Warning: AU –Second World War

M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex.

I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!


Herr Cartman walked hastily away from the camp.

He needed desperately to create distance between him and the red haired Jew. He needed to avoid and look at him ever again. Otherwise, he feared he couldn't stop himself. He feared he would do anything to get this Jew back and break all rules, endangering his own career. His own safety. His own sanity.

Sending the redhead back to the camp had been the most difficult thing he ever did. He couldn't exactly explain why, but he realized there had always been something in this Jew that attracted him. And that had been quite an accomplishment. Kyle was the one and only exception. All Jews ever did was disgust, irritate and infuriate him. But this one had fascinated him from day one. Only now did Herr Cartman realize he had been doomed from the moment he looked into those beautiful green eyes. Because he had been fascinated by its color. He had been fascinated by the amount of inner-strength he had read in them. Only now did he understand that all the torture he had put Kyle through, during these harsh winter months, was his way of getting something out of the boy. He loved to watch Kyle struggle. He loved to watch him fight. And savored every triumph. Only now did Herr Cartman comprehend it had been admiration all the time. Admiration for this one Jew's persistency. His continuous fight for survival. This was reason why he always was curious instead of angry, by Kyle's small but clever tricks to make his life easier.

And then there was the soiree. How beautiful Kyle had looked. How captivating his smile was, his melodic laughter sounded, his graceful movements were while he played the violin. The fat Nazi had written his own death sentence when he decided to fuck the Jew. Because if he was fascinated before, he was now conquered. The touches, the kisses, the increasing need to be together, to be one, the soft moans and the pleasurable screams, all burned his soul. His heart cried for him, while his body craved for his. But the more Herr Cartman desired Kyle, the more he avoided him. Because what he desired was impossible.

Days passed too slowly and no news came from Craig. While Herr Cartman waited impatiently to be transferred and leave this shithole, he had the need to fill his time with all kinds of tasks to distract himself. To keep his mind occupied with other things than Kyle. Every day he would go to the working fields and cleverly avoided the red haired Jew. He projected all his anger and frustrations on the other Jews, acting even more cruelly and vilely than before. Because he was being tormented. For being so drawn to Kyle. For evading him. For longing the Jew so much. For forbidding himself to have him. And for torturing himself every day, waiting for the long hours to pass, waiting for that crappy piece of paper to come to him hands. He checked the obituary list with a racing heart and breathed from relief when one particular name wasn't written on it.

Time passed too slowly. Spring arrived. It's warm and beautiful days mocked his depressed heart. He felt like he was mourning. Often, during lonely and sleepless nights, Herr Cartman would wander alone in the house. Somehow he always ended up sitting on the leather couch in his office, holding on his lap a wooden box. He never opened it. The violin inside of it was not his to touch. The violin was to be held by nobody else but Kyle. And so, the box always ended up being devotedly returned to a corner, where it waited, patiently, to be played once again.

Today was selection day. Once a trimester, Herr Cartman organized this important event in which the doctor would decide if Jews were still fit to work or ready to die. Herr Cartman's presence during the selection's vigilance was crucial. Today the fat Nazi had two main goals. One, to ensure no kind of incidents were to emerge. Two, to make sure a certain Jew wouldn't be appointed to deportation.

The selection started.

Soldiers were strategically positioned. Their function was to intimidate the Jews and make sure nobody would try to resist, fight or run away. Herr Cartman had heard tales from other camps where things ended badly and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. Order had to be maintained. Herr Cartman had a clean record. And he meant to keep it that way.

The fat Nazi watched the male Jews run an invisible trajectory. He loved the selection. It was an extreme form of humiliation and intimidation lived by the powerless Jews. They were stripped of their clothes and forced to run around naked. It had rained during the night, so the ground was wet. Feet buried in the soft mud during the run, and sometimes Jews slipped on it. Each soldier that stood in the pitch, represented a point of the track, a reference for a turn and change of direction. The Jews ran diligently one after the other, repeating each other's tracks, so the invisible path was traceable. They always ended by the doctor who would glance quickly at the Jew. The few seconds of his judging gaze would determine if the Jew's life would be prolonged or extinguished. A cargo train waited for the too weakened and sick Jews to transport them to Poland, to one of the extermination camps.

Herr Cartman knew rumors had already spread among Dachau's prisoners. There were, after all, Jews that survived several selections. They knew that those sent to the left side never returned to the camp. But, what the Nazi also knew was that in was of the Human nature to refuse such a definite reality. Many preferred to believe they were sent to a different labor camp. It was easier to believe in a smoother fake reality than in a cruel real one.

At a certain point he saw a red haze run between the mass of men. His heart skipped a beat and his eyes followed the running boy all the way. He was glad to see he hadn't lost more weight and that he ran easily. He could see the boy was fit and his rosy cheeks were evidence enough for the doctor to let him live. His suspicions were confirmed. The doctor barely looked at the boy and sent him to the right side where he received a new uniform. Herr Cartman breathed of relieve and continued his surveillance more at ease. Every once in a while he would glance to Kyle's direction. He saw theJew meet a dark haired child and hug him. His little brother. The boy that denounced the violin's owner. Not a very wise kid, the Nazi thought to himself. His eyes darted back to the selection. All was going well and smoothly. Men were divided. Some were sent to the right, others to the left. Nobody dared to interrupt the track. Orders were simply followed. Nobody stopped to think why there was a separation. Nor its implications. Nobody really noticed the shadow of death hanging over them.

Then suddenly, there was a scream. It was not a vulgar scream. It was an expression of sheer terror, agony, despair. Herr Cartman's eyes turned back to the place he had last seen Kyle. His heart nearly jumped out of his throat. The scream had come from the redhead. Herr Cartman watched horrified as the red haired Jew ran back to the pitch, yelling "Father" on top of his lungs. There was no time to think. He needed to act quickly. So he hurried to Kyle's direction while the world seemed to move in slow motion.

Herr Cartman saw Kyle running fast. Everybody instinctively turned their heads to the source of the desperate shouting. But everybody seemed to ignore. Jews continued running, while Nazis continued guarding. A soldier managed to obstruct Kyle, pulling him back with his strong arms. But the redhead was out of his mind. Panic and hysteria had taken hold of him. So he struggled violently, while he shouted for his father. The soldier hit Kyle's back with his riffle so the boy fell with his face on the mud. Herr Cartman saw the dark haired child rush to his older brother. Then he heard a man's voice call out for Kyle. Herr Cartman turned his head to the source of the voice and recognized the bald middle aged man. It was Kyle's father. He stood on the left part of the track. In that moment, the fat Nazi understood the reason for the young Jew's despairing behavior. There was no time for thinking. He made a run to Kyle.

Herr Cartman knew this red haired boy was no ordinary Jew. He knew Kyle would never give up. So he ran as fast as he could. And while he ran, he watched Kyle swiftly get back to his feet, escaping from right under the tall soldier's legs. Kyle's little brother ran after him, but the soldier grabbed the child in midair, stopping him. Ike was thrown down on the floor and commanded not to move. Seeing a rifle pointed at him, he obeyed. Meanwhile, Kyle succeeded in returning to the pitch. But this time a large soldier grabbed him violently by his thin waist, hindering him completely from his goal. This was when Kyle was overcome by panic and shouted the words that caused complete chaos.

"Run! They're sending you to extermination camps! They're sending you to gas chambers! They call it the Final Solution! You are all gonna die! Run for your lives! RUN!"

Herr Cartman reached Kyle just seconds after the denunciation and hit him on his stomach. With a raw scream, the redhead fell on the mud and contorted from the pain. The fat Nazi needed to stop Kyle from endangering himself even more. Because panic had installed itself among the Jews. The Nazi cursed under his breath, realizing he had reached the Jew too late.

Other scared Jews started repeating Kyle's words. The suspicion that had lived as a mere whisper of fear in the camp became now tangible. This fear that has, for so long been brewing and waiting to be triggered, exploded among the Jews like a bomb. Men started running and screaming in all different directions. The ones selected to go to the extermination camps started fighting their way out, breaking the wired net in front of them and attacking the soldiers. It was all one great blur of chaos. Then there was the sound of a shot gun. A Jew laid on the floor under a pool of blood. The screams increased and panic grew among the prisoners. They were like ants running everywhere. The soldiers too panicked from the Jews' unpredictability and there were more shot guns.

"Stop with the shooting!" Herr Cartman ordered. But his voice was muffed by all the other voices. He bent over and grabbed Kyle by his hair, who was still curled in a ball from the pain. "Look what you did, you little shit!" He whispered furious. Kyle gagged a painful scream. He could not see the Nazi's face but recognized his voice. "Look! Fuckhole! Look what you have done!" He released Kyle's hair and the Jew finally managed to direct his gaze to the confusion. He stared shocked at the images of chaos, dead bodies and blood. Herr Cartman picked his own gun, pointed it to the sky and gave three shots, one after the other.

"Stop the God damn fucking shooting!" All soldiers froze at the chilling and powerful commando. Jews too hesitated with their running. Slowly they stopped and turned to stare at the monster of Dachau. The Nazi purposely put his foot on top of Kyle's back, pinning him down and keeping him immobile. Anything to make sure the redhead couldn't jeopardize himself anymore. "How dare you disrespect meh autoritah?!" The fat Nazi yelled. "There is no such thing as extermination camps! There is no such things as gas chambers! This Jewrat here…" He said while he stamped on Kyle's back, making the boy release a painful scream. "…is delusional. His mind got infected during his work as bodies' fetcher. He does not know of what he speaks of." Herr Cartman said with a scornful tone. "There are men not fit to work here anymore, so they are being sent to another labor camp, where work is lighter." There was a heavy silence and Herr Cartman knew he had things back under control. "Proceed with the selection. I don't want any more incidents, or I swear, I'll shoot you all down myself, one by one!" The Nazi furiously threatened and watched relieved as the Jews slowly retraced the invisible trajectory and continued the selection. Then he called out two soldiers. "As for this Jew…" He said while he kicked Kyle to the side. "Take him to the Dark Room. Nobody is to do visit or talk to him but me! I need to interrogate this little shit and get to the bottom of this." He secretly murmured to the two soldiers, making sure nobody else heard him.

Each tall and strong soldier nodded, grabbed Kyle by an arm and dragged him out of there. Herr Cartman watched him being taken away with a heavy heart. Kyle was now yelling pleas to save his father. Herr Cartman had hated to kick him, to hurt him. But he had to. Just like he had to send him to the Dark Room. This was the only way he could save him. Herr Cartman looked to the pitch. There were still Jews dispersed. He rushed in between them.

"Don't stand there doing nothing. Go back to your line!" He yelled while he pushed the Jews back to the right or to the left. "Back in line! Back in line!" He grabbed a middle aged man by the arm with force. The Jew stared surprised at him for two seconds, as the Nazi pulled him out from the left track to the right side. "What are you waiting for, fucking Jew? I said go back to your line!" The Nazi furiously spat. The man only blinked once and quickly followed the men running on the right side. He received a new uniform and soon was running to a teary child standing behind the fences at the barrack area. He embraced the dark haired boy and looked back in the fat Nazi's direction. He was still pushing Jews from one side to the other. Controlling the damage. Restoring order. And somehow, Gerald Broflovski had the strange feeling, when Herr Cartman pulled him out from the left line, it had not been a mistake.


A/N

If you never saw "Schindler's List", I highly recommend you to watch it (also the "Pianist" is a WWII great movie!). You'll understand where I got the inspiration for this chapter.

The following 2 chapters are going to be pretty intense in a psycological/emotional way. I'll update soon ;)