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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2131 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Title: KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Author: Robby a.k.a. Mr Naked
Rating: NC17/AU
Pairing: everyone and then some more
Disclaimer: I was smoking some really good stuff when I came up with this.
Betas: Flowers and thank yous go to Hannelore_K & Ketene

KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids) - Part II. The Mark Has Been Made
Chapter 12.

It’s cold. So cold that I can feel it even if I’m asleep. And, somehow, I’m aware that I’m asleep. That means that actually, under my closed eyes, I’m awake. And freezing.

These long sounds, like a grunt of pain of a massive metal structure make me finally open my eyes. I keep motionless, as I look at the white ceiling above me, and listen to another set of sounds like made by a heavy metal carcass as it is being hit by something just as big. I realize then that I’m inside this carcass, and this shell is moving with me inside it.

Shouldn’t I be dead? I touch the back of my head with the tips of my fingers. First of all, I don’t have that silly haircut anymore. Second, the back of my head is just as normal, no bullet hole in there.

Intrigued, I rise on my elbows to look around. I feel my head heavy and hazy, as if after a long night of drinking. But I make the effort to throw a fleeting look around and see that I’m lying on my back on a narrow bed, more like bunk. The walls of this small room I’m in are white-bluish, and the electric light casts icy colored shadows, enhancing my feeling of coldness - rather of freezing - judging by the slight tremor of my flesh and the clatter of my teeth.

I should move, to make my blood circulate a bit and get myself warm.

I stand up in the empty cabin, and then wait for a few seconds, trying to get rid of that feeling that the floor is spinning with me. I feel as if I just woke up after one hell of a drinking night!

But the floor keeps its rocking movement under my feet. So, this seems like I’m on a ship, on the sea. I look at the massive metallic white door over there. I hope I’m not trapped in here!

I walk unsteadily to the door, thinking that even if this looks like one of those modern vessels, it has the rolling movements of a wooden, century-ago used ship.

I place my fingers on the rounded and massive handle of the door. Shivers cross my arm right to my spine, when feeling its coldness under my touch. But the door opens easily, and I poke my head through the cracked door to throw a look at the hallway.

Same white-bluish walls, same icy cold electric light, but the hallway seems completely empty. All I can hear is the moans and the grunts of the metal carcass and the huge thuds against it. Waves! And me, in what appears to be a deserted ship.

Better go and check what this is all about!

I get out of the cabin and start walking through the narrow and labyrinth-like halls. I have the weird feeling of having just been eaten by this gigantic fish or whale, taking me somewhere as it is swimming the seas, and all I can do is to walk through these hallways while listening to my steps on the metallic, frozen floors. Inside this metal-made fish is so cold. I’m so cold.

At the end of one white-blue metal-walled hallway, I spot a human silhouette. Another human being, finally! It’s someone wearing a white with blue shades protective costume. His or her face is covered though, by the costume’s hood; the person wears some protective glasses also, but dark, so I can’t see who it is.

“Hey!” I shout, and wave to the figure.

That person turns at me and emits these muffled sounds, while their hands point to their left.

“What’s that? I can’t understand!” I shout while I keep walking toward the person in the suit.

The one in the protective costume continues to emit the muffled sounds as his or her hand, holding a clipboard, keeps pointing to that direction.

“Thanks for nothing!” I mumble as my teeth are clattering so badly that I’m almost biting my tongue.

This isn’t a ship; this is a fucking floating freezer!

I stop right in front of the person and look to my right. He or she was pointing to another hallway. The only hallway, actually.

“This is dumb,” I mutter and take a right.

But my walk is short; this hallway ends into a large room, all white, and even colder than anything before.

“You made it, Till!” A husky voice drags me out of my astonishment, making me look ahead.

In the middle of the room – a silvery, shining metallic table, a surgery table of some sort. On the table, a man dressed in a black shiny vinyl suit is lying on his back.

This man has his eyes closed, and, judging by his pale skin and rigid position, he must be dead. So, I guess, this wasn’t the one who talked.

I detach my gaze off the dead man and look to the end of this room. That’s when I spot this other guy, standing with his shoulder propped against the wall. This new guy wears a white linen shirt, more like the 19th century fashion, and white pants, to match the style.

“You always take so long to show up for the surgeries,” he reproaches me, but he isn’t looking at me, as he’s focused upon a butcher’s knife he is fixing his nails with.

“What surgeries?” I whisper, shocked, while my glare travels along black spiky hair, and his face – a covered by white make-up face, with black and blue designs around his eyes, something resembling flames, and blue painted lips.

He leaves the wall and comes over to me.

“C’mon Till, hurry up, the patient is waiting,” he says placing the butcher’s knife in my hand.

“But I’m not a surgeon,” I protest, outraged, while my fingers grip spasmodically the rounded handle of the huge dagger in my hand.

“Of course you’re not,” replies the man moving closer to the table.

He pulls down the lamp hanging from the ceiling; closer above the corpse lying on the table. Then he turns his face at me, he grins and winks lewdly.

“You’re the butcher,” he explains.

“I’m no…”

“You even wear the outfit,” he responds, and as he talks, his teeth shine pearly-white, while, from time to time, the tip of his tongue seems to be licking their edge, in a ferocious yet sexually inviting attitude.

I frown and look down at myself. My clothes are in the same style as his, but I’m also wearing this white apron over them. It’s a chef’s, or, more likely, a butcher’s apron.
This is insane!

“And who might you be?” I ask to stall time.

“Your assistant, Richard,” the man introduces himself with a mockery of courtesy gesture as he keeps grinning.

I sigh and rub my forehead in confusion until my hand reaches the end of this chef’s cap I realize I’m wearing on my head.

“Well, Richard… I have no fucking idea of what I’m supposed to do,” I confess, walking over to the table on which the man in black vinyl lay.

“Ah don’t worry, no one ever has any fucking idea about anything they are doing,” Richard tells me on a cheerful tone that, I guess, wants to be reassuring. “You have to save him,” he adds quickly, now on a serious voice.

“Save him?”

I’m standing near the head of the dead one as Richard is standing by his feet.

“He isn’t dead?” I ask almost whispering, as I’m leaning a bit over the table to look closer at the one I’m supposed to operate on.

The man on the table’s face is painted in white and he wears black heavy make-up on his eyelids as well.

“If he isn’t dead, I might kill him,” I start, worried. “I have no medical training and…”

“If you kill him, we’ll have to eat his flesh then,” Richard announces to me on the most casual tone.

“What?”

“Well, we’ve all been starving for weeks on this fucking ship. And, also, we can’t leave his body to remain whole; one of the evil spirits might take over him. Then we’d be really fucked.”

“What evil spirits?” I frown, and I can feel myself shaking my head slowly in disbelief.

This is a mental hospital, not a ship!

“Absinthe must have taken your mind, Till.” Richard sneers, and he looks at me with a pair of eyes – blue, just like absinthe. “Those evil demons helping the Dragon…”

“The Dragon? What…?”

Richard shakes his head slowly, like he’s talking to an idiot.

“The one that…”

“Hey!” This third voice cuts off Richard’s words.

I look at the man on the table – his eyes are wide open, fixing me with their blue gaze.

“Stop chattering and do something!” He demands.

~ To Be Continued ~
- 11
- 12
- 13
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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)