99 Luftballons

Toy Shop

"Come on West, let's just hurry up already!" Gilbert Beilschmidt laughed from the front cashier counter in a small little toy store in the town square of Berlin.

"Keesesesese, we need to get back home before papa makes dinner!" The older Prussian boy called to his smaller German brother.

Ludwig, a small blonde boy, looked over to his older brother from where he stood at the end of one of the toy isles.

"Coming bruder!" Ludwig called back, grabbing a little bag of a hundred red balloons, then running over.

"West, these things are stupid! Why would you want these, Hm?" He sighed a little, looking down at the boy who was called Germany by some. Him? Well Gilbert was occasionally called Prussia by his friends and family.

"Because they are fun bruder!" Ludwig defended, looking up at his albino brother. The older sibling shook his head.

"Whatever, whatever, here you go Herr." Gilbert hummed, taking the pack and placing it on the counter.

"Ah, gonna shoot these at the Jews?" The old, crusty man asked behind the counter. "They have nice elastic, so they can be reused." The clerk continued. Gilbert only laughed gently and shook his head.

"No Herr, we just need the balloons to blow up and release." Gil said, a bit of edge in his voice.

World War II had just begun, as it was 1939, and Germany around this point was a bit hectic towards the Jewish communities that were there. By now, they were being carted off to ghettos, if not in a separate place all together. Even though Gilbert didn't like the idea, he was forced to hush up and not disobey the government.

The clerk shrugged a bit.

"Eh, you're right. They deserved to be shot with an actual gun! Not just some balloons." The elder then smiled as he took Gilbert's money, putting it in the cashier, then handing the bag to Ludwig.

"There you go, sonny." The sweet looking man hummed, then waving to the two boys as Gilbert quickly dragged Ludwig out of the shop.

"Bruder, why did that man want to shoot the Jews?" Ludwig asked, pulling on Gilbert's white sleeve, tilting his head. Gil looked down to his younger brother, and smiled painfully, gritting his teeth as he spoke, not wanting to say the next words that uttered from his mouth.

"Because they deserve to die."