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Author's Notes: The Major's insane, we all know that, right? Right. Translations for various German stuffs at the bottom. Enjoy.
Und die Glokken Läuten
By Ichigo Morino (11.12.03)
Major Montana Max sat in his favorite seat. However, all was black and the only indication of his presence there was a single beam of light reflecting off one round lens. The eye on the other side was obscured, as was the rest of his being.
His face split into a grin. A silent, partially insane grin. Nothing of it was seen, however, but a slight shift of the round lens. "Krieg," was murmured with great pleasure. The sharp word hung heavy in the black air for a moment before fading away.
Something stirred, slightly and briefly, before falling still once more. The Major did not pay it any mind. It was night, a terrible dark night. Beautiful. A night fit for attack, for war, for blood, very, very much blood. The rattling of machineguns. The crack of Panzer tanks upon earth—no, upon bones. The shouts. The screams—screams torn from terrified throats.
The screams. Yes. Oh, yes, yes. The screams! The screams! Major Max threw his head back in one glorious moment and laughed with glee. The screams! The screams must come! The screams will come and stay! Stay forever! Not like before! They won't end—not like in 1945! The screams will haunt day and night forever! Yes, yes! The screams!
"The screams!" He roared, laughing harder. His whole round being shook with insane mirth.
The very same something stirred once more, and this time, one gleaming eye opened at the Major's feet. It belonged to a creature curled around one of Max's short legs. No, rather, a boy. An ear twitched, a sharp black ear, and the said boy lifted his head in Max's direction.
"Major."
Major Max's laughing slowly dwindled as he turned two gleaming lenses upon the boy. "Ah, Schrödinger, I was just recalling the beauty of war."
Schrödinger's lips slowly revealed sharp, gleaming canines. They contrasted drastically with the innocent shine of his rotund eyes.
Schrödinger sat halfway up and the Major slightly leaned an arm towards him. Schrödinger's arms were folded against his own chest much in the manner of an eager animal. The tips of Major Max's fingers made contact with the bottom of Schrödinger's furred ears and shortly the Hitler Youth-clad boy was purring contentedly. "Meine Kätzchen," the Major possibly whispered, but it was soft enough to be overridden by Schrödinger's purrs.
"Sturm, Sturm, Sturm, Sturm, Sturm, Sturm," Major Max began to sing. Clearly, he was not made for singing. Just as clearly, the song was not meant to be sung in a whispered, lightly hoarse voice. But the tone Max took to it, a haunting, strongly determined tone, did the war song justice like no other voice could.
Schrödinger continued his purring, though his ears perked lightly and the look of pleasure on his young face intensified.
"Läutet die Glokken von Turm zu Turm—" the Major continued his song, but at the end of the second line his voice cut abruptly and instead he leaned forward, round, bespectacled face soon gleaming only breaths away from Schrödinger's.
"Mein Krieg," he whispered. A hard, strong whisper. "Unser Krieg."
"Krieg," Schrödinger echoed, his voice half-purring. And Major Montana Max shivered with unimaginable pleasure.
~ Ende ~
Translations:
Und die Glokken Läuten – And the Bells Ring
Krieg – war
Meine Kätzchen – my kitten
Sturm, Sturm, Sturm, Sturm, Sturm, Sturm – Storm, storm, storm, storm, storm, storm
Läutet die Glokken von Turm zu Turm – Rings the bells from tower to tower
Unser Krieg – our war