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A Lesson Learned	By : Cyndiana Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1550 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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TITLE: A Lesson Learned (Chapter 1 of 5)
AUTHOR: Cyndiana
ARCHIVE: A Feather in the Blood
(http://groups.yahoo.com/group/afeatherintheblood/)
RATING: A VERY strong NC-17 for EXTREME violence, and
description of M/M sexuality.
PAIRING: Doomy/Richard, and description of Till/Flake
SYNOPSIS: Richard learns from a knowledgeable source how to
unleash the rage inside him…and put it to DEADLY use…
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I blame society…Ok, I don’t, but I blame
fandomination.net. I read an even MORE gruesome fic on there, and
I’ve long wanted to write a Dark Fic, and that story inspired me.
This fic is not at ALL for the faint-of-heart. It is gruesome. It
is grizzly…It is Dark Fic, so if you have a weak stomach, PLEASE do
not read. If you read this, it’s because you CHOOSE to do so.
THIS FIC IS NOT FLUFF! IT IS GORY AND GRAPHIC.
You have been warned.
DISCLAIMER: A work of fiction. Not intended as a statement
of fact in any way. Not-for-profit.

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CHAPTER ONE

Richard Kruspe strode coolly through the garage of his luxury apartment building. He went in search of his car. He never could remember where he parked. After looking through row after row of cars equally as luxurious and costly as his own, he finally spotted it.

He pressed the small button on the control that so courteously unlocked his door for him. His seat adjusted to the exact position he liked, the air conditioning to the proper temperature, and the radio to the exact station he preferred…

“Hey! Thanks for tuning in to New York’s number one rock station! We’ve got some great songs coming up from Velvet Revolver and Three Day’s Grace, but first, we have the traffic report…”

“Traffic is shitty…It’s ALWAYS shitty…” he mumbled under his breath, as he slid into the soft, warm leather seat.

He checked his appearance in the mirror one last time before closing his door, buckling his safety belt, and turning his key in the ignition…

He slid the gear shift into reverse, and prepared to embark, when he felt a hand clamp over his mouth.

He struggled against his faceless attacker, but soon succumbed to what he realized all too late was chloroform…

His head landed on the steering wheel, and the horn let out a long blast as all went dark…

He slowly awoke an undeterminable time later.

His head ached from the chloroform, and he found his wrists and ankles to be tightly bound, and his mouth gagged with a cloth that tasted and smelled faintly of motor oil.

From what he could tell, he was in the trunk of a car, his own, most likely.

He wondered where he was being taken, and what horrors awaited him. But mostly he wondered who was taking him, and why.

During the lengthy voyage, he had a great deal of time to think…

He thought about his precious children, and worried about what would happen to them, once he was gone.

Then, he thought to his band mates…

He began to even imagine how they would react upon hearing of his untimely demise.

Would they be saddened? Would they weep?

No, probably not, he thought.

They would probably replace him quickly, so as to not disturb their careers, hinder their success.

They would probably rejoice at his death. They certainly didn’t protest his move to the United States. They seemed all too happy about not having to share even their COUNTRY with him any longer.

Just as he felt the old anger inside of him rise, the car slowed to a stop.

Had they arrived?

He heard nothing for a moment, then he heard the driver’s side door open, the close.

He heard footsteps crunching gravel as his captor walked around to the back of the car.

He heard the trunk latch give, and saw a small slit of light as the trunk opened slightly.

Soon, the trunk door rose, and he met the face of his captor for the first time.

His face was unfamiliar, but his M.O. was famous in the New York area.

He had been slaying for months now, first throwing his victims in the trunks of their own cars, then leaving their butchered remains the same way…Except by that point, their cars were aflame, and most if not all of the most useful evidence went up in smoke.

“Ohhh…You’re awake? Good…Have a comfortable ride?”

Richard mumbled obscenities through his gag.

He was stocky, and strong, and he threw Richard over his shoulder with relative ease.

He carried Richard into an old, abandoned factory in a part of town Richard had never been, but heard about often. Most of New York’s murdered and missing ended up there because it was relatively abandoned, except for the criminals that used its vacantness for their own sick purposes.

Richard was thrown into a cage about the size of a large dog kennel. Once he was locked in securely, his captor spoke.

“If you put your wrists up to the cage, I will untie you. Then you can undo your ankles and gag. Scream all you like. Anyone who might happen to hear you won’t help you anyway.”

Richard slunk up to the bars of the cage, offering his wrists obediently.

His captor freed them, and he undid the rest of his bonds.

He spit out the foul taste of the motor oil that permeated the soft tissues of his mouth.

Richard blinked benignly as his captor rose, and strode toward a man that hung from chains attached to an aging, wooden rafter.

His captor caressed the trembling man’s cheek…

“Are you…scared?”

“Let me go you SICK motherfucker!”

The man kicked blindly at the captor, trying to land a blow anywhere he could.

“Oh no…Bad mistake!”

The captor bound the man’s ankles with chains that were attached to the cold, concrete floor.

Now all the man could move was his head and middle.

The captor pulled a knife from his pocket, and showed the shimmering, double-edged blade to the frightened man.

“Come on man, come on…Let me go…Please GOD let me go!”

“Do you know what you ARE?” the captor demanded.

“What?” he man asked through quivering lips.

“I asked…Do you know what the FUCK…you are?”

Richard couldn’t break his gaze…He was engrossed in what was unfolding before him…

The man whimpered as the captor lowered the knife to his chest, ripping open his dress shirt and exposing his pale, tender flesh.

“You are…” the captor began, as the thrust the blade into the skin of the man’s chest, and the man cried out in pain,

“T…” he hissed, carving each letter as he spoke it, “R-A-S-H…Now…Read it back to me…”

The man sobbed and struggled against his bonds.

“I SAID READ IT BACK TO ME!”

“Trash…I’m trash…”

“That’s right…fucking useless garbage…”

Richard stared, transfixed by the trails of crimson snaking their way into the waistline of the man’s pants.

The captor traced the letters with his index finger, smearing the blood over the frightened man’s lips.

“Now…you have two choices…die slow…or die with dignity…The choice is yours and yours alone…”

The man shook violently, as the reality of his demise hit him full force…

“Tell me this…Did you enjoy raping that little girl?”

“Wha-what?” the man asked, weak from his ordeal.

“That little friend of your daughter’s…She wasn’t older than, what? 11, 12?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

The captor shoved his thumbnail into one of the cuts, and the man cried out into the echoless room.

“I didn’t rape her! She seduced me!”

“A child?! A child seduced you?! Well, I told you it was your choice…and you made it…”

“N-no…Please…Don’t!”

The captor slashed violently, making mostly meaningless cuts all along the man’s chest, then stood and watch him slowly bleed.

Richard watched as well…

The man convulsed violently, as the life started to drain from him…

For many moments, the captor let him bleed, until the man weakened significantly.

The man’s head hung low, and he was deathly pale…

“Now…tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll offer you release…”

“I did it…I…I raped her…I’m sorry…” the man sobbed, his mutilated chest heaving.

“That’s a good boy…Now…I wish you a safe and expedient journey to Hell…”

And with that, the captor cut a massive gash, left to right, across the man’s throat.

His eyes grew wide from shock for a moment, then dimmed as blood poured from the wound.

In mere moments, he was dead.

Richard took in a great gasp of air, now realizing he had hardly breathed the entire time.

The captor let the knife fall to the floor, and it landed with a loud clink…

He turned his attentions to Richard, who now sat casually in the corner of his cage.

The captor pulled a chair up to the cage, and sat, looking Richard over abjectly.

“How could you…do that?” Richard asked, his voice soft and even.

“He deserved it. That little girl will suffer all her life. He only suffered for mere moments.”

“No, I mean…how could you bring yourself to…take another man’s life?”

“Wouldn’t you rather know why you are here…What is going to happen to you?”

“I know the answers to both, so why ask?”

“Oh…do you then? Then, enlighten me…Why are you here?”

“Let’s see…You’re a vigilante, hell bent on revenge…I am in a rock and roll band that people hold to be the cause of every school shooting in this godforsaken country…”

“Oh the ego on you is IMPRESSIVE, Richard!”

Richard was taken aback. Now he was really frightened.

“Then tell me why I AM here?”

“Well…A killer hardly breaks their M.O…and I’m known for killing in the name of justice…But in the interim, I’ve built up a love of just…killing…for killing’s sake. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time…You will be my first, Richard. My first kill just because I fucking feel like it. Aren’t you proud?”

“Well, seeing as we have such a good rapport, you can answer my question…How could you bring yourself to kill that man?”

“When you build up enough hatred, anything is possible. In my sick spree, I’ve developed a hatred for all mankind. Evil. Mankind is pure evil. Every last soul. I decided I might as well just kill indiscriminately.”

“What does it…feel like?”

“What, killing?”

“Yes…Killing…”

“You become God…It is upon your ears their prayers fall. You decide if they live or die, and that kind of power…is intoxicating. Addictive. PRICELESS.”

Richard leaned against the side of the cage, considering his captor’s words.

“Is there someone…you long to kill, Richard? Someone who’s life means even less than your own?”

Richard met his gaze with trepidation…

“Those who…betrayed me…yes.”

His captor softly grinned.

“You wouldn’t have it in you. You’d stop at the first drop of blood. You’re weak.”

“I…don’t know…I’ve never been faced with such a choice.”

With that, his captor rose, slipping on his coat, and out the door, leaving Richard in his cage.

Richard doesn’t know how long it was before he fell asleep.

He was awakened by a man’s screams.

Richard’s cage was opened, and the man was hurled inside, and the lock safely refastened..

“Undo his bonds, Richard. Go on.”

Richard obeyed, and the man scrambled for the opposite side of the cage.

“They’ll find me, you know! The cops, they’ll find me! And you’re going down motherfucker!”

“Hmmm…” was all the captor uttered, as he slipped out of the room.

Richard considered the young man before him.

He was lithe, slightly built, shaved head, and a prominent Swastika tattooed on his chest.

“Shit man, I gotta get home…I have to be home by midnight, or I violate my parole…” the young man whimpered.

“Well, I have a family…and friends…and a career waiting for me.”

“Awww man…this is not good…Fuck! How’d you get here?”

“Same as you…trunk of a car…thrown in a cage.”

The young man began to survey the scene around him, and saw the corpse of the man killed earlier, still hanging from the chains. The young man began to scream.

“Oh man! That’s fucked up! That’s just fucked up! I can’t die…Oh God, I can’t fucking die…”

The young man’s chest heaved with panic, and Richard’s eyes were transfixed by the Swastika…

The young man looked at him briefly, then did a double take.

“Wait…Man…Aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I, who?”

“Oh my fucking Christ! You’re Richard K, from Rammstein!”

Richard’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“Yes…I am…”

“Oh man! Sieg Heil, motherfucker!”

Richard could feel his blood actually boil in his veins.

The captor returned, and he casually unlocked the lock from the cage and opened the top of it a crack. The young man scrambled for freedom, while Richard sat coolly.

The captor grabbed the young man’s arm, holding it in place with the top of the cage. He stabbed a syringe into the young man’s arm.

The young man cried out, then fell limply, and still.

“You…Out.” the captor commanded.

Richard rose, then climbed out of the cage.

The captor locked it once more.

“Is he dead?” Richard asked.

“No…I only gave him a sedative. It’ll only last an hour or so.”

“What do you want with me?” Richard asked.

“First…I want you to smoke a cigarette…You’ve got to be dying for one right now. No pun intended, of course.”

The captor handed Richard a cigarette and a lighter. Richard lit it, and took in a deep drag, feeling instant relief from the smoky nicotine.

“Then I want you to sit…and wait with me.”

“If I were a wise man, I’d break your neck and run. Tell me, what is it we are waiting for?”

“Your lesson.”

“What could you possibly teach me?”

“You have a hate inside you Richard…A deeply buried anger…You have been scorned…Now, you are weak. You will let that hate, that anger fester…then rot. Meanwhile those who jilted you live on, never having paid their retribution for what they’ve done to you. You will learn to harness that rage…and exact your well-deserved revenge.”

Richard took a moment to examine his captor. He was older, probably in his early fifties. His hair was thinning, and black tinged with silver. His face was weather-beaten and his brown eyes were dim, devoid of any humanity he might have ever had.

Richard didn’t know why, but he HAD to stay…It wasn’t fear of not being able to make an escape. He knew he could. But something inside him longed to learn everything this man had to offer.

So, he sat. No more words passed between he and his captor. Only puffs of putrid smoke from the cigarettes they shared.

Finally, the young man began to stir.

“Wha-…What the fuck? Oh shit…my head…”

The young man looked around to see Richard and the captor sitting, staring at him.

“What the fuck is going on? Hey Rich, you got out! Take him down man, let me out of here!”

“You wait here. Look at him a while…that emblem on his chest…” the captor said softly, as he rose.

Richard obeyed, the Swastika igniting his rage.

“So, what’s up man, he’s gone! Get me out of here! Come on!”

The captor undid the bonds on the other man’s corpse, tossing his body aside.

He returned to where Richard sat.

“Help me with him, would you?”

“Hmmm…” Richard agreed with a soft nod of his head.

“Wha-? Fuck, no man…You can’t do this! You can’t fucking do this!”

The captor opened the cage, and they both lifted the young man out, despite his fierce kicking and flailing of his lanky arms.

“Oh man, don’t do this! I ain’t done nothing! Let me go!”

Richard held him while the captor did up the bonds on his wrists, then his ankles.

“This angers you, doesn’t it, Richard?” the captor ran his hand over the young man’s chest softly.

Richard said nothing, and his chest heaved as his anger grew.

“What? My Swastika?! But I thought…Aren’t you a…?”

“No…I’m not…I’ve spent a lifetime, and a career trying to dispel that very idea. Assholes like you make me SICK!” Richard hissed, spitting on him.

“Good, good Richard. He makes you angry, doesn’t he? Angry enough to…kill?”

Richard’s chest seized a bit at those words. He began to back down.

“No! Don’t back down! Don’t you dare! Aren’t you sick of it, Richard? Sick of these bastards permeating your shows…Throwing up their hand signs and their ‘Sieg Heil’ s? Do something about it!”

The captor handed Richard a knife.

Richard looked it over. It was still stained with the blood of the last man who’s life it took.

Richard wanted to stop himself. To do the right thing and kill his captor, and set himself and the young man free.

Only now he wasn’t sure anymore if that truly was the right thing to do.

The Swastika seemed to scream out at him…His eyes blazed as they looked upon it…He couldn’t fight it any longer…

The young man cried out as Richard sunk the knife over and over into the icon of his rage…20, 30 times he thrust it in, until he heard the young man grow silent, and saw his head fall forward.

Richard dropped the knife like it was poisoned.

His chest heaved, and his stomach twisted.

He felt his captor place a hand on his shoulder.

“The power is sickening at first, as is the way with any drug that’s worth your time. You know about that, don’t you Richard?”

“How do you know so much about me?” Richard asked softly.

“I said I killed indiscriminately, not anonymously…I know as much about them as I do you. Now, how do you feel?”

“Sick, but…vindicated…”

“Yes…that’s good…Now, take what you’ve learned, and use it Richard. Go home…Not your stuffy penthouse…Berlin…Now, go…”

The captor tossed him his car keys, and turned away, dragging off the body on the floor.

Richard slid into the seat of his car.

He sobbed, leaning his head on the steering wheel…

Soon, his sobs turned into laughter…

He was no longer weak…and soon, his band mates would learn that…the hard way…

Revenge ensues in CHAPTER TWO! >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
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A Lesson Learned