August Shower

Chapter 1

He breathed into his cupped hands, a scarf around his neck, the two of them both on patrol. "Damn, is it cold!" He hissed, rubbing his arms, trying to warm up. The other Nazi officer, read the headline of a paper he had stopped to purchase from a stand.

"15,000 Jews killed in a single week." The second officer read aloud, the first looking at him.

"Who the fuck could kill so many?" The first hissed, before a tall, black person, strode past the two, who stopped and stared, as the trench-coat wearing figure, went in the direction of the Furher's Office.

"That's him." The Second officer murmured lowly, both watching in awe. "It's August Stain Heart."

"August WHO?" The first one asked, and the second one didn't even look back.

"He's one of us- the one who killed 15,000 Jews in a single week- it was him. They call him 'August Stain Heart' because of the bloody killing sprees on Jews he pulls every August, that top whatever he kills during the rest of the year. He only answers to the Furher himself." The Second explained.

"Augustafh Steinhart!" The Furher pronounced, the cloaked man, bowed. "I'm proud on how you are ridding the world of those wretched Jews. You are a role model to your fellow Nazis." Hitler proclaimed. "You don't speak much, but, that is what makes the best solider! For the rest of you, strive to be like Augustafh!" With that, the Furher dismissed him, and he left without a single word said.

Straight back to his home, producing a key when he came in range of the cellar doors, and slipping it into the pad lock. There was a soft click, and he removed the lock, and swung open the door, before descending the stairs to the basement, closing the door behind him and dropping the pad lock on a nearby table. It was not often, that he went to such stupid meetings, nor was it often that he even left his house- but when the surge for the please of spending time with his favorite friend came, he must attend at all costs.

Gore, sat there, on an old table, the light from the single light bulb, giving Gore a very admiring sparkle to his features. Stainless metal gloves- it was by fate, that Gore and himself, wound up together in this Hellhole. The War was profitable- to every Jew they slaughtered, they were paid handsomely. Why, it made you wonder, why he took up residence in such a rickety old house that was more than 300 years old.

In his workshop, the soft occasional clank or clink, welcomed him warmly back, and offered up a very tempting offer of work he was to resume. There were ten tables in this room...like those you would find in a Hospital's Autopsy room. A silver tray, held his most favorite blades, which caught the light's reflection as well, and thus, seemingly sparkled in anticipation to be used. Their delightful gleam, as he picked them up, a scalpel knife in his right hand. He twirled it in and out of the spaces between his gloved fingers, looking over at the dead body on the nearest autopsy table. He strode over to the table, and pressed the blade to the cold, pale flesh, slowly pulling the blade towards the deceased's pelvis, ruby red liquid, bubbling out from the cut.

Jews were only the very best for experimentation.

x X x X x

She panted, running down the cobblestone streets, their voices echoing off the walls, demanding her to halt, the sound of their polished boots on the stone, almost at her heels. Where to run? She stumbled into the yard of an abandoned and old looking house, and she could see cellar doors. She found them unlocked, opening a door, and horridly slipping inside, quickly going down the stairs, before grunting, as she hit the floor in the darkness.

She looked back, finding the cause of her major slip up, was a discarded object upon which she had tripped over. When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she gasped. A butcher's meat cleaver, lie on the ground, a dark fluid on its blade, but whether or not it was blood, she could not tell. She got to her feet, afraid, of where she had stumbled into- turning her head around and coming face to face with a large axe, which hung, seemingly, in mid-air, but in reality, from a chain that was suspended from the ceiling. On impulse, she shoved the axe away from her with a scream, and tripped on something else, thus, falling once more, but, her back met a wall, and she lumped to the floor. She groaned in pain, but a door on the other side of the cellar, opened, revealing light onto a staircase, a cloaked figure jumped the railing of the staircase, and landed on the floor, as the rejected axe, swung backwards in recoil.

They appeared in a flash, and clutched her to their chest, as the axe came down for revenge, and took it upon the stranger, instead of the girl. Suddenly, there was a clatter, and a heavy thud, as the axe fell to the ground, the metal groaning in defeat in this battle, before resting against the cold floor. The stranger released her, and stood up, just as the doors from the cellar to the outside world, were destroyed and the debris rained down on the descending stairs and the floor. Two S.S. Officers, stood there, light pouring in from outside. The Stranger did not withdraw into the darkness from the Officers, like most would. They wore black- nothing but black, aside from a patch of pure white, on his left arm. They didn't reel away from the sun like a vampire- they stood their ground and was silent, as they gazed upon the soldiers.

"August Stain Heart!" one Officer said. "Um- we didn't know you lived here! W-We'll repair the doors, honest! R-Right away! But that girl got away from us, and she's to be executed today." The Stranger looked at her, helping her to her feet, but kept a firm grip on her arm with his left hand, tapping on the white hand with his free index finger twice, and the soldiers nodded. "W-We understand, Sir. We'll have this door fixed by the hour, Sir. Sorry for disturbing you." they vanished, and the Stranger was silent.

They scooped her up in their arms, and carried her to the other side of the cellar, hastily, darkness hiding most things from view. Their chest was flat- were they a male? Or a flat-chested female? They carried her up the stairs and into the actual house, the two appearing to have entered the house's kitchen, before the stranger nudged the door shut with the toe of their boot. They set her down on her feet and locked the door to the basement, slipping past her, and standing in the kitchen doorway to the hall. It was almost as if they desired her to follow him. She approached him, and he vanished somewhere to the right of the doorway, and when she got into the hall, he stood in front of a door, holding a small note pad and a pen. He showed the note pad to her.

'Past this door, there is a stair case to the bedrooms of this house. You are free to choose any bedroom, except for the one at the end of the hall, for that is my room.' They had written down, flipping to another page, and scribbling something else down, before showing it to her as well. 'If you need anything, call for me. You may call me 'August'.'

"My name is Zamantha." She said, and they nodded, opening the door, before going up. She followed, climbing the spiral stair case of steep, dangerous steps that could murder with a single slip. "This house- must be really old to have such steep stairs, eh?" August nodded, stepping aside to let her pass him to get into the hallway. He gestured for her to follow him, leading her to his room, opening the door, and putting his hand up, to make her stop, before going into his room. He came out with a white shirt- possibly one of his night shirts, and gave it to her. "Thank you." She said, and he nodded, as she turned and looked through the rooms, while she shut the door. Already, the sun had set, and she had settled into a room next to his. The long hall, has two rooms on either side, one only odd door, was the one at the end of that hall.

She exited her chosen room, and went to Augusts' door, standing there in only his night shirt, which was over sixed and baggy. Hesitantly, she knocked on the door, and it opened to August. She blushed slightly. "I-Um- can't sleep." He leaned back, reaching to his left, before producing a thick book with the title, Bedtime stories. She laughed. "Can we just talk instead?" August nodded, stepping aside to let her in, shutting the door behind her. Most of the room was covered by shadows, beside the occasional candle, and the lamp at an old desk. August gestured to the bed, and she took a seat, while he put the book back on a small shelf to the left of the doorway, before sitting at the desk, and tapped the filter of his mask, looking at her, but, picked up a pen, and continued what he was probably doing, before she knocked on his door.

"So, do you- live here by yourself?" August nodded. "Are your parents alive?" He shook his head. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" He nodded, and held up a finger. "One brother? No sisters?" He nodded. "You're ok with me asking you all this stuff, right? I'll stop if you're not…" He gave her a thumb up, and she smiled happily. "That's great-" There was a blinding flash that only lasted a second, but, she blinked repeatedly. There was a mechanical whine, and August pulled out a picture from the camera he held, and shook it to make the picture turn out faster. "Did you just take a picture of me?" He nodded, and went back to her writing. There was no other sound than their breathing and the scraping of his pen. When he was finished, he folded the letter and put it in an envelope, as he wax sealed it. "Who's that to?" He tapped the band on his sleeve. "Oh, I see." He waved it off. "You must feel uncomfortable-" He looked over his shoulder to glance at her, as she looked at the ground and clasped her hands. "For some strange girl like me, to bombard you with questions, when I really have no business messing in your affairs or your life." August looked back at his desk. More scratching of his pen, before he turned in his swivel chair, and offered her a folded paper. She took it, and opened it, reading what message he had written for her.

'I have a reputation that keeps people from openly approaching me. I'm not uncomfortable at all; actually, it's really comfortable to have someone who doesn't seem to be afraid of me.'

She smiled at him, handing back the paper. "I'm not afraid, and you sound like you're very lonely. Don't you have any lady callers?" August tilted his head to the side as if confused. "You know- girlfriends? Don't you go out to strip clubs or pick up a whore once in a while?" He scribbled something down for a minute or two, and then handed the paper to her.

'Sometimes, I have the occasional female admirer, but if I did go out with them, I would have no time for them. Strip clubs have a no touch policy, which is fine for me, but not when they're giving me lap dances. Whores carry STDs from all the men they bed.'

Zamantha giggled at his process of thought. "This is true. It's also hard to have a lover when you're stationed here and there, and your 'reputation' probably keeps you two apart." She said, handing the paper back, as August nodded, drumming his black coated fingers on the sealed envelope. "Do you have any children? Have you ever had a wife?" August shook his head, standing up. "Oh! You're going to bed? I'll leave as well-" He pushed the paper towards her, and she stopped, taking it.

'I'm going to go pick something up that I forgot. If you desire, you may wait up for me, but you may not come with me.'

She nodded. "I- um- understand. May I- stay in your room?" August nodded, and went over to her, as she sat back down. He raised his hand and- patted her on the head. With that, he turned and left.

~30 minutes later~

August opened the door to his bedroom, balancing three striped boxed in his left hand, opening his door with his right. Zamantha, lie there asleep, curled up on his bed. He snickered, setting the boxes down on his desk. He unbuckled the two buckled at the top of his coat, taking off the coat to drape it over his chair. He took off his hat and dropped it on the desk as well- stripping out of a cumbersome under uniform, only worn on the days he had to see the Furher, getting out of his boots as well. August went over to her and leaned down, putting his hand on her head, she responded to his gentle touch with a soft mew as she dreamed. He stroked her hair absently in thought, before realizing what he was doing, and withdrawing. He just stood there, and sighed, picking her up and pulling back the bed sheets and setting her down, tucking her in, taking up residence in a nearby chair. That would be his bed for the night, the loss of his actually bed, did not faze him.

To begin with, he was rarely ever home, for there was never a reason to come home. He glanced at Zamantha, reaching up and taking off his gas mask, setting it in his lap. She murmured something in her sleep, making him look over at her. He looked down at the letter he held. The red wax held his seal on it. No swastika. It was a sword with wings, his crest. He glanced back to Zamantha- noticing something slipping down her cheek. He got up and went over to her, wiping away a stray tear. Probably a bad memory had slipped into her head as she was sleeping. He gripped the letter and looked over his shoulder, at a fireplace that gave off a very dim glow enough to rival the candles. He went over to it, standing in front of the cackling fire.

This was the moment. This letter could either be handed to its destination- or be burned right now. He gripped the letter tighter, but not to crush it to damage the envelope. The flames danced in anticipation, waiting for him to throw it in. It was rare to get a letter from August- even rarer to hear him speak. He glanced back at her for encouragement, before picking up a bucket of sand- and pouring it into the fireplace to put out the fire. Augustafh had won this fight, and he dropped the letter on his desk triumphantly. It would be worth it, he was confident in that. He slipped back into the chair and closed his eyes, eventually, falling asleep.

~Next Day~

She woke up in the room she had showered in- she remembered falling asleep in Augusts' room though. She noticed some striped boxes on the top of the dresser in the room.

'You fell asleep in my room and I brought you to your room. Please, change into this after you bathe. I've arranged something important and you need to come. ~August'

She got out of bed and quickly took a shower, opening the smallest of the boxes to find undergarments, the next held a dress, and another, held shoes and a hat. When she was done dressing, there was a knock on her door and he stood there, black as could be. He bowed and offered her his arm. "Did you buy these for me?" She asked, and he nodded, making her blush. "Well, you didn't have to buy me anything!" He tapped the band on his arm, and waved the letter. "It's that special?" He shrugged and then nodded, and she took his arm. They left the house through the front door, and a car awaited both of them. She stood at the doorway, releasing his arm, and he looked back at her. "They- They shoved me into that, when they took me from my home- after they killed my family." August stood there, hands at his sides, and looked down at the letter he held. She sighed in defeat, and he got in first, and she slipped in next to him. "I'm still kind of tired, sorry." August held her close, as he reached over her and shut the door, before the car took off.

She lay against him, and August looked at her momentarily, before looking forward, and not saying a thing. When they came to their destination, the door was open closest to August, and he exited first, offering his hand to her, and helping her out. They had arrived at the Furher's own palace. Her knees gave out from under her, and she clung to August. He helped her t her feet, and she mumbled and whimpered incoherent protesting. He simply grabbed the hat, and pulled it down, over her eyes, so she could only see her feet. "Look at your feet instead." With that, he went forward, two Nazi Officers, escorting her behind him, as they navigated the maze of stairs and rooms to the Furher's chambers. There was a long table, and the Furher's secretary was there. He stood up abruptly.

"A-August-!" They exclaimed, Zamantha having lifted up her hat now. "A woman? She it not even allowed in here." August pulled out a gun and aimed it at the secretary's head, pointing to a picture of the Furher. "Y-Yes, sir!" He pressed a button. "Furher, August is here." The doors opened, and August stashed his weapon in his cloak, as the Nazi's Leader came in, Zamantha hiding behind August, who did not seem to mind.

"Ah! Augustafh! So very rare that you come to see me-" He said, August offered him the letter. "What is this?" He asked, but took it, and ripped it open, pulling out the letter, and reading it. An hour later, they were in a court house in a court room, Zamantha sitting in among the pews of people.

"Augustafh Steinhart, request from the German Court, that Zamantha become his legal responsibility-" she gasped lightly in shock, covering her mouth. "- on the accounts of home invasion, and the possibility that she has, in her possession, information that can very well be held against him and given to the Jews. The court has no reason to decline Mr. Steinhart of his request, and therefore, grant him of his request. The Court hereby gives full Guardianship of Zamantha to Augustafh Steinhart, and she will now, legally, take his last name if she so desires. Zamantha Jasnishka?" Zamantha stood up, afraid. "Do you understand what is going on here?" She shook her head in a 'no'. "Mister Steinhart wants to take you in, to stay with him. If you want, you may even take his last name. Are you fine with live with Mister Steinhart?" Zamantha nodded her head in a 'yes'. "Are you bothered with the offer to take his last name at all? Or would you like to keep your own."

"Um- I would very much like to take his name." She said, and the Judge nodded.

"Case dismissed!" The Judge slammed his hammer down on its rest stand, and August went over to Zamantha, and she looked up at him.

"…You adopted me?" Augustafh looked down at her and nodded. She was shocked. A total stranger, had just, basically, adopted her and claimed he now was in care of her well-fare. August walked off and she quickly followed after him. They returned to his home, and went in through the front door; she took notice of the fixed cellar doors. He had been writing in the car on the way there, but, not while he took her shopping for necessities that she needed for her stay there. She went to make a move up the stairs, but he grabbed the things from her and gave her the paper to read. "Um- thank you." She opened it and gasped. "WHAT?! Really?" August nodded, going up the stairs first, and she followed. "I figured as much when those Nazi addressed you, but you're really brave to say it yourself! May I assist?"

(A/N: I've been informed that 'Steinhart' is a Jewish name. FML. ~Ryu, 10/22/09)

August spun around and wagged his finger. "Alright. Can I make something to help you? I was studying to be a pharmacist, and I know a lot about drugs and medicine. Don't Jews fight back sometimes?" August let his and fall, then looked up slightly, before nodding. "I'll make something that helps, is that ok?" He nodded again. "Yey!" She went up stairs first and he stayed down stairs, before shutting the door to the stairway- and locking it.