What Is This Man Doing Here?
by 80sarcades
What if Hochstetter entered the real world? Not to be taken seriously; just for a bit of fun! Happy New Year!
Disclaimer: I have the Heroes on DVD. Sadly, that's all I own of them.
Let's see…throw in something about his mother…
The Christmas carol about Hochstetter was coming along beautifully. All I needed now was to throw some other stuff in; the ending was already perfect…
Oh, yeah…Burkhalter telling him where he can shove his theory would be nice…
Finally, it was done.
Just think: without Sgt. Moffitt, I wouldn't have had the perfect opportunity to slam Hochstetter yet again. I should really feel sorry for him…nah, I'm a guy; we're not that emotional…
It was late. My wife and kids were over at my in-laws; I was alone. After saving a copy of the carol, I checked out the Fox News website. While that was going on, I somehow dozed off.
That was the worst mistake I made that night.
I felt something poke me in the shoulder. My pleasant dreams of world domination were quickly interrupted by two things: a headache, and a gun. Specifically, the pistol that waved back and forth before my bleary eyes.
It took me a moment before my mind snapped back to reality and I saw…
That's impossible!
Howard Caine - dressed in the 'I'm a Gestapo slimeball' outfit he wore on Hogan's Heroes - stood in the middle of my office with a sneer on his face. I closed my eyes and shook my head; when I opened them, the apparition was still there.
Mental note to self: never eat Milky Ways again when I'm drinking Vodka. Ever.
The closet that held my shotgun was too far away. To be sure, I might be hallucinating; hangovers do play strange tricks on you. Then again, there may be some whacko that actually goes around and robs houses while dressed up as an dead actor. So I decided on the best course of action:
"If you're here to rob me, you're at the wrong house," I began, then pointed to my right. "The house down that way has the really nice stuff, like flat screen TV's-"
"I am not a thief," the man growled; his voice even sounded like Hochstetter's. "I'm here for you."
"Me? Impossible!" I exclaimed. "What would you want with me? I'm just an innocent family man!" Which is technically true. So what if I have a few outstanding arrest warrants issued by other countries? At least in America a man is innocent until proven guilty. Or until he runs, anyway.
The other man snorted. "Do you, or do you not, go by the pen name 80sarcades?" he demanded.
"Well," I hesitated, "If I say yes, is there money involved? Because I have to warn you, my wife will probably get to it first-"
"Silence!" the man said, shutting me up before he looked around the room. A sadistic sneer crossed his face as he confirmed his theory.
"You are, aren't you?" he asked, then waved his free hand at my collection of arcade marquees. Well, might as well live up to it; can't play dumb forever.
"Of course I am!" I said, proud of the fact. "Might I have your name, sir?"
It's always nice to be polite. Especially if they wave pistols around.
"Wolfgang Hochstetter. Gestapo. And I have a problem with your…stories…about me."
"You?" I scoffed. "Hey, I wrote those stories about a fictional character, not you! Just who are you, anyway?" I asked, somewhat annoyed. "If you're here to rob me, get it over and done with. You can start with the living room TV; it broke down yesterday…"
In response, the stranger reached inside his jacket and pulled out a piece of metal. After a moment, I recognized it as a Gestapo Identity Disc. I was impressed; this guy went all out to create the persona. Not that it mattered, or that I was impressed.
And just how did he know who I was? Was I dealing with some whacko hacker that figured out my secret identity? Not that it's much of one, anyway.
"I am here," he began, "because you have posted certain stories that put me, shall we say, in a bad light. We are going to correct this," he said, motioning me to my office chair with his sidearm.
In response, my anger only grew. Pistol or not, this jackass comes into my house specifically after me. You'd think that if he could find me the Publishers Clearing House and their big check could too, but nooo…
"Oh, go take a flying leap out the window" I said sarcastically, then wrinkled my nose. "And do something about your body odor; I have some deodorant in the bathroom. Then again, forget that; use something stronger, like my Axe body spray. Will chocolate do?"
If anything, the smell got worse as the man stepped closer, a furious look on his face. "I am Major Wolfgang Hochstetter," he roared. "You can either write what I want, or I will have you shot!"
"Oh, all right," I said calmly, trying to placate the whacko. I then turned to my computer and sat down in my chair before calling up the word processor. "You want a story?" I called out. "Let's see…I don't know what you want, so here's an example…"
My fingers flew through the keys, forming the words Major Hochstetter tried on the blue dress with white dots… My head nodded in satisfaction. Even the big ones start small.
"There now, there's a story I can build on," I said, turning to the man. "Now…" I broke off; my jaw dropped in shock.
The man was now wearing a 1940's style blue dress with white dots. The black cover on top of his head had disappeared; instead, a matching blue pillbox hat completed the ensemble. Yet the pistol was still there. So was the sneer, which soon disappeared when he looked down at his new outfit.
"CHANGE IT BACK," he ordered in a panicked voice. A part of my mind laughed at his wide eyes even as my fingers hurriedly hit the backspace key. As I did so, the dress morphed back into the black Gestapo outfit. I was literally dumbstruck…if that happened…
Then this is real! Oh, my God…it really is Hochstetter!
But how?
"Keep your hands away from the keyboard," the man - Hochstetter - ordered. I complied, yet I couldn't keep the scrowl off of my face.
"You know," I commented dryly as our eyes locked, "why you? Any other guy would get a Playboy bunny. Me, I get a Gestapo thug." My eyes rolled upward before glaring at the ceiling. "Thanks a lot!"
"You swine," Hochstetter said, returning to his usual charming personality. "That is what I am talking about!"
"Huh?" I asked, confused.
"You, along with those other writers on that fan fiction site, have made my life a living hell."
I shrugged. "Well, it seems fair," I said. "Your character is probably going to hell, anyway…"
"No more!" he exclaimed. "You personally embarrassed me in What Promotion?, had me killed in Hochstetter's Stalag…"
"Yeah, so I did," I interrupted. "But I also had you win in Prisoners of Honor! There's that, isn't there?"
"You killed off the Führer! Who wants to be a part of that?" he exclaimed angrily. "And the sequel you have planned for it? Not to mention that nasty Christmas Carol you wrote about me?"
"Well, okay, that might have been a bit much," I allowed. "I mean, we all write the character you are. Can't be helped," I explained. "Then again, we do change it up sometimes. I mean, look at the wonderful work Sgt. Moffitt did in Unsung Hero…"
"Oh, yes, I remember her," Hochstetter said, a look of disgust crossing over his face. "She had me working for the Allies! I'll be visiting her next," he said ominously, "after I'm done with you!"
"Great, just great!" I sarcastically said. "So I'm the first one you've come to? What about all the other authors out there that did a job on you, such as-"
"Don't say their names!" Hochstetter hissed.
"And why not?" I challenged.
"Because they might sue." A look of fearful apprehension appeared on the Gestapo man's face as he wildly looked around the room. Yup, it's true, I thought. The lawyers will always find you, no matter what.
I nodded, then changed subjects. "So what's the harm? All of this is for fun; as long as someone out there enjoys the stories, who really cares?"
"I do!" Hochstetter said sadly. "Don't you, or any of the other writers, know that I have feelings? Did you ever think about how I might be hurt?" he asked.
"Ah, you're Gestapo," I said. "You're not supposed to have feelings…"
"But I do. And that is why you are going to write a new story. One where I am the hero."
"Riiight," I commented, drawing out the word. "Just to clear the air between us, you should know that I'm a former Green Beret. You'd better get lucky with that first shot, because there won't be a second."
Hochstetter was unmoved. "Before I joined the Gestapo, I was a simple policeman," he said. "I know when someone is lying."
"Okay…" I nodded, serious. "Army Infantry. We may not be as crazy as the Green Beanies, but we still kick butt!"
"Again with the lies," the other man said. "At least Hogan could lie, even if I couldn't catch him at it."
I sighed in exasperation. "All right, the truth." I confessed, somewhat lamely. "Would you believe that I dressed up as a WAC once, for a party?"
Hochstetter raised an eyebrow as I went on.
"The dress itself was okay, but I really shouldn't have gone all the way," I explained. "I mean, the makeup was a nice touch, but I should have chosen a better fitting bra. It was really hell to move around without the strap cutting into my chest. The best part, though, was that the whole outfit really gave me that perfect hourglass shape. And the slip, let me tell you…"
"ENOUGH ABOUT THE LINGERIE!" Hochstetter roared as he raised his pistol in warning. "Quit stalling, and get to writing!"
I raised my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay," I said before I turned around and sat down at the computer. Under Hochstetter's watchful eye, my fingers touched the keyboard as I started coming up with ideas.
"You want a story where you win and Hogan loses, right?" I asked.
"Correct," he confirmed.
"All right, let's see….how about a female interest?"
"No," the Gestapo man said. "No women." When I raised an eyebrow, he went on. "I want action, not romance. A proper woman would stay at home and not involve herself in such business."
I shook my head in disbelief. "Um…you do know this is the twenty-first century, right, and not the 1940's?" I asked; the man just stared at me as I continued talking. "You also know that if you said that to a lady today, she probably kick you in the slats. That's if the good 'ol boys around here didn't shoot you first for wearing that Nazi getup."
In response, Hochstetter raised his pistol again. "No women," he announced firmly. I sighed and turned my attention back to the screen.
"Okay, so you're the hero…" My fingers started typing as Hochstetter nodded.
"Let's see…no female interest, but you want to win, and win big…" I thought aloud.
"Yes," the Major breathed.
"….Hogan gets arrested; you finally prove that you're right all along…"
"Yes," my visitor said. A quick glance told me he was in his own little world. Too bad for him.
"…Himmler decorates you; the Führer promotes you to, oh, General…"
"Oh, yes, yes," Hochstetter said dreamily
"…throw in the Tasmanian devil…"
"Yes…" the Major said, then quickly snapped back to reality. "What? What?" he demanded, trying to find out what it was that I said. I ignored him and waited…
…and sure enough, I heard the telltale sound of a top winding up at full speed. Or, to my mind, a blender on steroids.
The office door literally disintegrated as a whirling brown mass spun through and destroyed it. As we ducked for cover, the noise and swirling stopped to reveal a brown animal with very long sharp teeth. His eyes locked on us before he started jumping down and making incomprehensible noises. If nothing else, they covered my sigh of relief. Thank God for whoever created Looney Tunes, I thought. Who knew they'd come in handy?
"What. Is. That?" Hochstetter asked in a whisper. His voice actually sounded terrified; for a moment, I actually felt bad for scaring him. Thankfully, it quickly passed.
"Oh, that. Just a Tasmanian Devil," I said calmly. "Hochstetter, meet Taz," I said, gesturing towards the creature with my hand. I then motioned it back toward the Major. "Taz…meet dinner," I said, then quickly got the hell out of the way.
Taz immediately pulled out a knife and fork before turning into a whirling mass yet again. To his credit, Hochstetter actually managed to get several shots off - not that it did him any good - before he was consumed in the miniature hurricane. For a moment, the windstorm was black and brown, then it stopped. Taz was still there. So was the Major, or what was left of him. I was actually impressed; Taz had managed to reduce Hochstetter to nothing but bones without touching the clothes he wore. Nice trick.
At that moment, Taz chose to put his eye on me; my own eyes widened in horror as he licked his chops.
"Oh, no, you don't," I said, quickly x'ing out the story without saving. When I looked back, the space where Taz had been was now empty. Hochstetter - well, what remained of him - was somehow still there. I shook the jacket free of the bones it contained and held it up to the light; a miniature Nazi party pin gleamed on one of the lapels.
Well, at least I have something to wear for Halloween. Wonder if I can get it fumigated?
And look…I thought, picking up the skull…I have a free table decoration, too…
[fin/ende]
A/N: All reviews are greatly appreciated!