Hitler barely had any time to react as Bush fell upon him, his slightly wrinkled fists crashing into Adolf's moustache, sending the man stumbling backwards.
"C'mere you facist panda-lover!" screamed Bush, stomping on Adolf's pristine leather boots.
"Schiza!" cursed Hitler, rubbing his mouth with one hand and shoving the former president with the other. "Essen Scheiße, Hund!"
Bush raised his dukes, but a swift kick to his kneecaps by the younger man proved his defence had holes in it. "Wh- I won't eat anything of the sorts, you... you Nazi!"
Staggering, George grabbed a pillow from a nearby bed, Gandhi's, and lobbed it at the mans face. The pillow exploded into a mad burst feathers, flying all over the place as Bush tackled Hitler's waist, sending the two of them sprawling to the ground.
Couching, Hitler blindly nailed Bush straight in the jaw, but George wasn't bested so easily. He was Texas born, and quickly rammed his head straight into the Führer.
"Yee-haw! Take that you-" Bush rubbed his head, wobbling a bit, "Ow... my head kinda hurts..."
"Ah Ha!" shouted Hitler, kicking the man off of him and sending the older man skidding across the floor. Not wasting any time, Hitler tore off one of his heavy boots and threw it right at George's head, nailing the still writhing Bush.
"Don't throw your boots at me, you hog gurgler!" screamed Bush, desperately kicking his legs out at the dictator, who was circling the writhing man with his other boot held tightly in his hand. In his other hand, he held his belt, hastily torn off as a make shift weapon.
Now, a foolish warrior would surge forward to stomp his enemy into the ground, but Hitler had fought in one world war, and then commanded the second. He knew better than to dive for the American, who fought best when furious.
While Adolf looked for his opening, as did Bush. While he writhed, his eyes scanned underneath the bed for something he could use, literally anything.
In a desperate moment, Bush lurched under the bed closest to him, still Gandhi's, and tore a loose metal bar out from underneath the bed. While he did this, Hitler lunged forwards with his boot being swung by the laces.
Bush barely got the bar out in time to block the heavy boot, and narrowly dodged the belt that snapped right past his face. Growling, he swung the bar for the man's chest. With nothing to properly block the swing, Hitler leapt back and out of the way of his foe, only to have the back of his knee's push against the bed next to Gandhi's.
It was a momentary weakness, but that was all that Bush needed, howling as he brought his bar forwards, driving Adolf backwards.
Gasping, Hitler moved involuntarily, feeling his legs giving out against the bed. During his tumble, Hitler dropped his makeshift weapons. Completely defenceless, all he could do was raise his hands to shield his face as Bush swung down with his bar, screaming at the top of his lungs;
"I'm gonna beat you so hard you can't pronounce all the S' in your stupid language!"
As his bar collided with Adolfs hands, instead of searing pain there was a bright flash.
Both were blinded for a few seconds, and when their vision cleared each were equally shocked. Hitler had blocked the furious swing, yet not with his arms apparently. A few millimetres from his arms sat the bar, held back by some mysterious barrier that protected him.
"What in the Sam Hell-" George cut off as Hitler's fist slammed into his mouth.
"Essen Sie es, Sie Cowboy asshaten!" roared Hitler, grabbing the metal bar. The whole bar instantly turned red hot, and Bush barely had time to drop it before the whole thing started sizzling.
George gasped and took a step back from the suddenly frightening Führer, apparently high off his newfound power.
With a sneer, Hitler tossed the bar across the room before racing forwards, his fists smoking as he launched a flurry of punches at Bush. Instead of his own bright light flaring to protect him, all George got was a series of meaty thwacks to his mouth as he fell on his rear.
Before he could even start moving again, Hitler sent a sharp kick straight into his head, launching George into a bed-frame.
"Ertrag, Sie täuschen!"
"I'll never surrender to you... you monster! I'll never follow you either!" George spat, snarling as blood dribbled out of his mouth.
Hitler didn't say a word, instead rearing back his hand for a final punch, aimed right at the weak and immobile George's throat. George looked straight at the man, knowing that the monster never had any compunctions about killing in the least.
Just as Hitler's fist flickered forwards, a hand lashed out and grabbed his arm, throwing Adolf backwards. Socrates lifted one hand in front of both of them, though he kept his eyes locked firmly on Adolf.
The two stared hard at each other for a minute, neither making a move. Eventually, Hitler relaxed his stance and stormed out of the room, his still smoking hands clenched at his sides as he pushed past the rest of the group.
Glynda fixed a disapproving glare at George, who was only now finally picking himself out of the wreckage of a bed. Gandhi shook his head, frowning slightly at the disaster of a room.
Ozpin sipped on his coffee.
"So... I suppose you weren't star-struck then?"