[ WP ] You are Alois Hitler , spending your days trying to protect your son from strange future people who are after your son Adolf 's life .

Alois looked up from his tea and noticed a shadow darting past the window. He grumbled and immediately reached for his rifle. In the garden, the man was making pretty much no effort to be stealthy. He stood on his toes and peered through each window of the house, searching for something. For Adolf, Alois knew. This man wore the same silvery jumpsuit that all of the others had worn, and his hair was dyed as blue as a mountain lake. And as always, a gun dangled from the stranger's hip. 
 
 Alois crouched behind the juniper bushes, leveled the rifle at the stranger's back, and pulled the trigger. He had long since tired of trying to question them all or figure out where they'd come from. He'd heard enough outlandish lies and nonsense about traveling through the holes of worms to reach them. Over the past few months, he'd learned that they were always foreigners. It was n't just that none of them spoke German, or the strange garb or utensils they carried. There was just something *off* about them. 
 
 A red stain appeared in the silvery fabric, and the man crumpled against the wall of the house. Alois slung the rifle over his back and approached the man to go through his pockets. Again, he found papers. It looked like a newspaper, but printed on small sheets of clean white paper ( instead of the dull grey of the local Austrian papers ). And though he could n't speak English, he could recognize a few words. Particularly the name `` Adolf Hitler'' prominently written on every single one of them. Alois tried to ignore the image of a man on a stage raising his arm high; a man who bore an eerie resemblance to his own son. And he did n't recognize the symbol on the banners behind the man. 
 
 `` Who is it, Papa?'' Little Adolf's head poked out of the window. He was frightened, but not nearly as scared as the first incident, where Alois had to punch a man to death right in front of his son's eyes. `` Another one of the Foreigners??'' That was what they'd taken to calling these intruders. 
 
 Alois nodded, still trying to decipher the pages. There were images of monstrous metal machines with cannons mounted to the front, metal things flying through the air, and row upon row of marching soldiers. And some of desolate camps and emaciated men in black-and-white outfits. Some sort of prison? He'd seen many similar images before, taken from the pockets of the other Foreigners that he'd killed. `` Get ready for school now, Adolf. I'll take care of this.'' 
 
 Adolf did n't listen. He was craning his neck, trying to look over his father's shoulder at the papers. Alois held up one image that was quite different from the others: just a six-pointed star. He recognized the symbol from the synagogue over in the eastern quarter of Vienna. Looking more closely, he could see some sort of wavy writing. 
 
 `` What is that, Papa?'' 
 
 Alois turned to see his son still at the window. He quickly hid the image. `` I said go get ready for school!'' He raised his voice, and Adolf shrank back into the room. The less his son knew about these intruders, the better. No good could come of this. 
 
 `` Papa?'' Adolf's voice, timid and quiet, drifted through the open window. Alois realized perhaps he'd been a bit harsh. 
 
 `` Yes, son?'' 
 
 `` Why do they want to hurt me?'' 
 
 *What a traumatic thing for a boy to experience*, Alois thought to himself. Why would an 8-year-old child be the target of these mysterious travelers? `` I do n't know, Adolf.'' He looked back down at the horrific images of some imaginary war that he'd pulled from the man's pocket. And the incongruously-added Star symbol. Perhaps it was time to have these translated and figure out what exactly they all said. That would have to come later, though. Alois gripped the ankles of the corpse and dragged it down to the basement. He could n't have the neighbors noticing corpses in their garden.
