Schatzi Von Jiftofen (Part 2)

BOOM! The air around me shakes as the redirected missile makes contact with the blimp. It may have shaken, but it could have been my imagination.

I'm hovering in air, waiting for another attack. I must have really surprised them.

So up, up, and away!

I'm tearing through the air now at an almost offensive speed. I feel like Superman.

WHOOF the air around me pressurizes around me and I land on the tread plate surface of the blimp's interior. It's dead quiet.

All around me, there are figures in brown uniforms. All of them have stopped what they're doing to turn and look at me.

All of them have a short, mean-looking machine gun on a strap over their shoulder.

And most of them... are... animals?

The one closest to me is about six feet tall. There's a hole in the back of his pants and a long cat-like tail twitches nervously in the air. Furry hands slowly clench into fists and then go limp again. Yellow eyes stare back into mine and a pink nose in the center of its face twitches almost imperceptibly. Slowly its cloven mouth splits open, revealing tiny, white, perfect, and sharp teeth. The teeth of a carnivore.

"REEEAOOOOWWWW" it says as it makes a drop for its machine gun.

I can't say I'm not surprised. It takes me a moment to react. I feel the air light on fire as I instinctively dodge gunfire. Behind me, something explodes and I see a shatter of sparks out of the corner of my eye.

A guttural voice voice roars over the machine gun fire, "YOU IDIOT! Our orders are to take him alive!!"

Another shot rings out and the Cat Man falls dead, a smoking hole in his forehead. I spin toward the source of the voice and I see a buffalo's head staring back at me. It's wearing a black uniform with a black trenchcoat. He's got a smoking Luger in his hand. Or hoof. I can't tell what it is. There's an enormous hump on its back.

Jesus Christ.

"Now, now, Punchernaut..." the buffalo says. "We've been expecting you."

"Oh have you?"

Behind him are two fat girls in Nazi uniforms. One is wearing a headband with felt cat ears attached to the top. She swipes at me and whispers sinisterly, "Nyaaooh..." The other one hisses. They're both pointing disturbingly black machine guns directly at me.

"It's the whole reason we're here, dear, dear Punchernaut," the buffalo says.

"And you expect me to come along quietly?"

"Well, seeing as how you're outnumbered..." he whistles through his teeth, which I must assure you, is a sight to see. Whistling buffalo men. What next?

In response to the whistle, I hear the clattering of at least 20 people arming their submachine guns and I see about a half dozen behind the buffalo and the catgirls pointing them my direction. Three of these half dozen are also animals. One more cat and two dogs. One has a black circle around his eye like the dog from the Little Rascals. The other three are humans. Two skinny girls wearing cat ears and one dopey, chubby boy with a skunk tail attached to his uniform pants.

What in the hell have I gotten myself into?

"Are you guys... furries?"

Everyone in the room gasps. The buffalo spits, "Swine hound! How dare you use that word!?"

Swine hound? I think he means schweinhund. For a Nazi, this guy needs to brush up on his German.

"Furries? Or guys?"

Everyone gasps again.

"We are not... I can barely bring myself to say it... FURRIES!!" The word erupts from his mouth and everyone in the engine room groans. "We are FURS!"

"Um." I say.

"Still your vile tongue before you insult us further!" a voice from behind barks. Literally barks. I spin around and it's another dog, this one in a black uniform to match the buffalo's. This one is a shaggy sheep dog with disquietingly human eyes. His tongue lolls out after we stare at each other a few seconds and he pants quietly. I turn back to the buffalo.

The buffalo speaks: "Enough! Enough of this! Punchernaut, come with us."

"I hate to tell you how to do your job, Herr Buffalo," I said, "But you might want to issue a new order to your troops."

"Oh, Punchernaut? And what would that be?"

"Open fire," and before he can respond, both of my fists shoot forward like lightning. So fast and so hard I get windburn on my knuckles. I push the air like an invisible wall and all six of the critters sitting in front of me fall backwards. I hear noses smashing under the pressure of the air and the smell of blood comes to me.

Oh, man! This is going to be AWESOME!

The sound of submachine gun fire erupts behind me, deeper. I'm moving so fast everything around me seems to be going in slow motion. I feel a few slugs rip through my shirt, but they never touch me. I land face, first on the floor, catching myself with my fists. I'm grinning like a lunatic as instrument panels in front of me erupt in white light. The buffalo is screaming "CEASE FIRE YOULL TAKE THE WHOLE SHIP DOWN" but I doubt the gunners can hear over the commotion.

My hands slide under me and I shove with both arms, sliding across the steel floor backwards on my belly. One good push and I'm right under the feet of the SS Dog behind me. I spin around and grin up at him as he looks down at me, horrified. "I hope, for my sake, you're not fixed, Rover." and I drive the heel of my Converse up where his legs meet in the middle.

He folds like a napkin and I snatch his gun. I can punch harder than a bullet ever can, but this is faster, and I'm after destroying equipment at this point.

The other gunners don't know what to do. I've got their commanding officer on top of me, and I get to my feet, dragging him up with me. I push the submachine gun under the Shaggy Dog's chin. Everybody freezes.

"Cease fire!" the buffalo yells. He's finally getting to his feet. Or hooves. I can't tell. He's wearing jack boots.

"Yeah, cease fire, alla you Kraut bastids!" I'm high on adrenaline. I start laughing, "Point those peashooters elsewhere or I'm gonna fill Biko here fulla lead, see!"

"You misunderstand, Punchernaut," the Buffalo Bill says, "I was merely concerned about more damage coming to our instruments. Herr Morgenstern is secondary to our mission."

"Open fire."

I hate being shot.

So bad.

Especially by submachine guns.

Herr Morgenstern liquefies in my arms and the bullets rip through him and into me. I begin screaming and I lose my hold on the gun I swiped. It skitters across the floor as hot blood seeps into my shirt. I fall to my knees and start scrambling across the floor as more bullets drive into me, ripping my shirt in some places, bouncing off in others, but bruising everywhere. I'm yelling a thousand curses as the Bill orders a cease fire. My hands are sticky and slippery with warm blood.

What have I gotten myself into?

"Now, Punchernaut, you have an innocent life on your hands," Buffalo Bill sneers. "Shall we lose any more of our men, or will you come quietly?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Bill," I pull myself up off the floor and almost slip in Herr Morgenstern's blood. I'm going to need to buy a new shirt.

"Der Fuhrer awaits us on the command deck," Buffalo Bill says, "And he's very anxious to meet you."

"Lead the way."

I've got a bad feeling about this.