Lost Clans of a Hidden War

Chapter 1

The Smell of Defeat

Late during World War II, Hitler spurred his people to find some way to help the Nazi cause and finish the war against the Allies. Now it was rumored that Hitler was obsessed with the occult and anything pertaining to it. He even created a secret organization within the Nazi party whose only purpose was to explore every lead they could find that pertained to the occult, religious artifacts of power, relic of Atlantis, and alien sciences and technologies. From what is whispered, this secret organization searched far and wide for anything that could help the cause. Scientists within the organization performed bizarre experiments with items recovered from a plethora of locations, and rumors abounded that they had unlocked several secrets that could be used to win the war against the Allied forces.

Of course, any secret one might have, is never a secret for long. The Allied forces quickly caught wind of Hitler's secret division and their driving purpose. So like any good opposing power, the Allies also formed an organization whose sole purpose was to obtain the same items the Nazi's were looking for and to counter the research that the Nazi party was conducting in secret. And like any two secret organizations at war, a silent battle was fought in the labs hidden deep from prying eyes. They say great battles of magic and technology raged in the deep places of the Earth fought between men and the things men had created.

Eventually the Allies won the war, and the battles were over, both secret and overt. Are secrets unlocked ever able to be contained again though? What of the secret places deep in the Earth where arcane battles raged and beings not of this world battled for their human masters? Whatever happened to the unnamed souls that fought in secret to protect our world from utter destruction when science delved too deep into the mysteries of life and magic? What horrors lie still beneath the realm of man awaiting a chance to once again see the sun? Find out tomorrow on the History channel, at 8 - 7 Central.

Max snorted in contempt and cut the TV off. Wasn't it supposed to be about history, not science fiction? I mean really, the shows on TV were getting ridiculous. He moved as if to get up and hissed in pain as the fluffy ball of fur in his lap objected to the movement.

"OW! Damnit Baxter, stop turning my leg into a pin cushion you lazy cat," he vented towards the offending feline.

Max pried the offending claws from his blue jeans to the displeasure of the feline who then leapt down with a contemptuous flick of its tail and sauntered off for who knows where. Max rubbed his leg vigorously to make the pain go away before getting up out of the recliner to seek his bed for the night. He bypassed the alarm system forgoing it. It wasn't like his neighborhood was in the middle of crime alley or anything. Actually, just the opposite; the worse that had happened around here was some kid spray painting a tag on someone's fence. Of course the kid's parents found out and drug him back by the ear, made him apologize, and then made him paint the entire fence. It was a good neighborhood, a boring neighborhood. Max sighed and shut the lights off in the house and crawled into bed. Work always came too early, and sleep was always in short supply. Ah, the glamorous life of a security guard. Well, it might not be glamorous, but it was quiet, and it paid quite well actually; one of the joys of leaving the military with a high security clearance. Max peaked out of the window to see the rising sun and winced as he closed the black-out curtains again and got comfortable in bed. Gotta love the night shift!

The alarm blared its annoying noises at 4pm. Grumbling, Max slapped the offending device and was rewarded with claws digging into his chest. "GODDAMNIT BAXTER!" he shouted as the feline leapt from his chest to the floor and scooted away with an offended yeowl of protest. Max grumbled as he rubbed his chest. "Who needs coffee when you have a fucking cat?" he growled in a resigned voice.