Collaborative Fan Fiction

Hello,

I thought it might be a cool idea to use this thread as a way to tell an Indiana Jones fan fiction story. The way it works is, I'd post a piece of it, and the next poster takes on where the other left off. You can post crticism, or ideas for next pieces of the story so it can be clear, cohereant, and enjoyable.

Ill get the ball rolling....

MEXICO, 1941

The thick jungle leaves pushed past Indiana Jones's face as he moved on the centuries old path. While hardly visible, Indy knew the path well, as the Foregin service operative had clearly showed the trail to him back in Mexico city. He wished he brought along a machete to see where he was going, but as long as he looked like he knew what he was doing, the two OSS agents behind him wont ask too many questions.

One of the agents, Zac Hexton, a rather over zealous youth who Indy didnt really see fitting in with the bureaucracy of intelligence work stealthly came up to him, as if they were surrounded by enemies just waiting to strike.

"Dr. Jones?"
Indy casually nodded
"Is it much-" As Indy was listening he heard the sound of two branches crack at his one o'clock. He reached for his revolver when......

Will said:

"Dr. Jones?"
Indy casually nodded
"Is it much-" As Indy was listening he heard the sound of two branches crack at his one o'clock. He reached for his revolver when......

Click to expand...

"Is it much to humid to get a decent pipe around here?"

The grip on Indy's revolver loosened as he stared at the sweat soaked beard in front of him.

"Be you'd never thought you'd see me in these jungles, did you." replied James V. Forrestal. "Old habits die hard, don't they."

Indy smiled. Before him stood the brother of his most respected adversary, and his admiration for James was greater now than ever before. "I'm sorry for loss. Although we were competitors, I always respected your brother."

"I know." Forrestal replied. "In fact, that is why I have dragged my administrative ass out of the office and into this God-foresaken jungle. I see Zac was able to convince you away from Teotihuacan. Not an easy task, unless, of course, Zac was a woman. Bwahaha..."

Forrestal's laughter faded into memory as Indy thought of...

...his latest love interest. What was her name again? "God, I love fast women..." Indy thought to himself.

His thoughts returned to this latest trek. Indy pulled the well-worn fedora from his head and mopped his brow. "All right gentlemen, whenever I see a combination of government and academia I start to worry. Zac you've pointed out the way to these ruins, but I think I'll ask Jim about their significance."

Zac seemed a little surprised, "I thought you were intimately familiar with ancient history of every kind, Dr. Jones."

Indy cocked a half smile, "Jack of all trades, master of none. The Forrestal brothers have always been one step ahead of me when it comes to Latin America." He nodded at the remaining Forrestal, "I'll defer to your expertise on this one. What can you tell us, Jim??

(OOC: I actually didn't include any of my original vision - yet - since I'm in a position of playing off other people still, and I'm kind of tired and don't want to write the whole book at this point. In other words, I have about two more typewritten pages written of actual plotline but I'm not going to submit it yet. After someone else posts I"ll be back.)


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Forrestal paused, suddenly suspicious of Indy's modesty, then admitted a faint nod.
"I know about my brother, Indy. I assure you he would have been most happy that his prize went to the Americans and not the French."

"But you're here to learn about the Nazi presence in Latin America." Noticing Indy's rolled eyes, Forrestal elaborated, "Zac Hexton doesn't just fly to this hell-hole on holiday. Not with Der Fuhrer roaming around like he owns the place."

"Well?" Zac blurted, as the foursome, now co-led by Indy and Forrestal, continued to work its way through the underbrush. "An American mole working for the Germans was recently assigned to a Nazi project in Uruguay. That's not so unusual. But he was an archaelogist. That is."

"And you want me to tell you why." Forrestal responded quickly. "Hexton, we've done business in the past. You know my rates."

Indiana Jones looked up immediately from hiding under his fedora. His face was twisted into a menacing growl. "Hey Jimbo?. This war is bad for both of our pocketbooks. But you'll tell us what you know, and fast."

"I'd just like to pay income tax like everybody else", Forrestal shot back, but grumbled as three hands went for revolvers. "I see you gentlemen mean business. I'll tell you about the Uruguay expedition? just don't let it get around."

"Hitler's been establishing an underground here for years. Wilhelm Bohle is personally overseeing the conversion of a large portion of Uruguay... into some sort of Agricultural Colony, or something. And you're either smarter than you look or luckier, Indiana Jones, because the central outpost is right through this clearing. I'd follow you in, but unfortunately I have a date with running the other direction as fast as I can. I don't hate the Nazis nearly as much as you, Indy."

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Indiana Jones abruptly cut off Forrestal's speech and broke through the clearing.
Hexton followed hastily, but wondered, "What about Jim? We could use him!"

"You've got one archaeologist on your payroll, it's enough. This is the second time I've left a Forrestal in the dust."

Hexton had dark hair and a muscular build. He was the archetypal American doughboy, complete with pendant around his neck, a token of his darling back home. He grumbled, but followed behind and slightly off to the side of Indy, just out of sight. The third man seemed to lag suspiciously. His name was Mongrel, a short, stout man who must have grown up in an American Ghetto. Hexton wasn't sure, but had a hunch that Mongrel was Hispanic.

The three came close to the edge of the clearing. Indiana Jones brushed the last bits of jungle aside with the blunt side of his whip, un-obscuring a large military complex. In sight were three makeshift buildings, and some sort of roped off area in the back. Suddenly Indy pulled back.

In sight was an Aryan-looking guard in nazi uniform, passing from inside the closest building onto a hidden dirt road. The red swastika on his cap shone prominently under the moonlight.

"Uh, Dr. Jones, why didn't we just take the road?" inputted Mongrel from behind the shadows.

"We had to shake them off, and no questions!", was the reply.

Indiana Jones and Zac Hexton were lying flat on their stomachs peering through cracks in the bush. At a distance they see that the guard is followed by a young local girl wearing a light dress, carrying a bottle of liquor in one hand. She tosses her hair back and hangs on the guard's shoulder, laughing inaudibly. The young nazi looks nervously at his watch, but allows himself to be led toward a blue transport truck, the only vehicle in sight.

As the two drove along, the truck's suspension was unstable - either because of the bumpy 1-way road, or because of their drunkenness. As the guard and his friend drove off, Hexton and Mongrel turned to each other, amazed at their good luck.

As the two face each other, they suddenly realize that Indy is missing.

Indiana Jones was creeping along the side of the closest building. He crouched near the window of the construct, a shanty that could only be held up by the blind devotion of its occupants to der Fuhrer.

"I hate these guys", Indy muttered, as he watched too such occupants discussing affairs. One of them was Wilhelm Bohle, boss of the Foreign Organization of the Nazi Party, a member of Hitler's inner circle and mastermind of the unofficial German conquest of Latin America. The other Indy recognized to be Jeff Weir, a prominent British archaeologist, and not the mole that Hexton mentioned.

What was Weir doing at a German military complex? For that matter, what was Forrestal doing?

"The Nazis probably pay their men", thought Indy briefly - as briefly as he could.

It was closing time. Weir, who was dressed in plain clothes, shook hands with Bohle, who exited through the same door as the guard did earlier.

From his side of the building, Indy watched Bohle, as he headed towards the deepest section of the military complex. The man neared the roped area, then shouted out an order in hoarse German. A few men emerged from hole in the dirt, and looked as if they were packing up. Indy didn't wait to find out why.

From behind the jungle growth, Hexton and Mongrel saw Indiana Jones walk calmly into the building.

Dr. Weir was apparently accustomed to the entrance of men like Indiana Jones. He saluted shortly, inattentively: "Heil Hitler".

Indy raised his own hand in turn, "Yeah, yeah, Heil Hitler?Hell Hitler", and turned his open right hand into a fist which connected squarely with Weir's jaw. The Brit staggered back.

Meanwhile, Mongrel spit in disgust. "The bastard, he's jumped ship!" he mumbled in a heavy Mexican accent. Hexton held him off: "Dr. Jones is soldier of fortune, but he's also honorable. I worked with his father? before that unfortunate accident."

"You mean the accident involving Dr. Henry Jones, the firing squad, and the barrage of bullets!" Mongrel was clearing becoming frustrated about lying around in the jungle growth doing nothing.

"Some things are necessary, Mongrel" responded Zac Hexton. "We wait here for Dr. Jones."

While he and Hexton waited, Mongrel's mind mulled things over. His real name was Miguel Jaurez, but his gringo "comrades" had reduced him to "Mongrel". A thought occurred to him and he mused aloud, "Kind of strange that Dr. Jones would go alone into a camp full of Nazis like this, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you were familiar with Jones' file."

"I am... I guess." said Hexton, embarrassed that he was being shown up by Mongrel.

"Well," continued Mongrel, "Dr. Jones is a soldier of fortune as you said, but he's practical. He takes the path of least resistance. Sometimes that means fighting, but he doesn't usually PICK fights."

Hexton was impressed, "So what are you saying?"

"I'm not sure," said Mongrel shaking his head, "But something doesn't add up."

Hexton was starting to catch on, "Yeah... he did seem a little eager to work with us when there was no priceless artifact up for grabs."

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a loud thunderclap and a sudden downpour.

"Madre de dios," Mongrel grumbled.

Meanwhile, Indy had just doused the kerosene lamp that illuminated the shanty. Weir was pinned against the wall by Indy's gun pressed roughly under his chin. Dr. Jeffery Weir knew Indiana Jones primarily by name and reputation. The two had met at a few times at various conferences and other events. Weir had always scorned Indy as a thuggish grave robber, but nothing he'd ever heard about Dr. Jones prepared him for the savage that confronted him now.

Illuminated intermittently by the lightning outside, Indiana Jones' face was mask of pure hatred. His glare drilled into Weir. After a few painstaking moments, Weir finally sputtered, "Wha- wha- what do you want?"

The hammer on Indy's Webley MKVI cocked with an ominous metallic click.

The lightning flashed again, as Indy growled through his gritted teeth, "Tell me about the death of Abner Ravenwood."

OT: Ah the death of Abner Ravenwood. I wish now I'd saved that line about "the accident involving Dr. Ravenwood, semiautomatic rifles, and a firing squad"