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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
- 16
- 17
- 18
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: Ketene & Hannelore_K

KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Part II. The Mark Has Been Made
Chapter 17.

A bar. Music again. Drinks. And a lot of people. It’s so noisy inside that the sound of the slamming door behind us dissipates before even being heard.

“Watch out for these, they are the Beast’s evil guardian spirits.” Christoph’s lips move almost voiceless near my ear.

My glance follows the slim and flexible body of a woman that passes by me to mingle among other women and men in this bar. The obsessive pounding of the drums, the humid sweat, the enticing movements of the flesh, sounds of glasses and bottles, loud streams of laughter, scents of perfume and alcohol…

“We should take a seat,” Flake suggests.

“Where are the others?” I ask, following Flake to an empty table near the stage.

“Don’t drink their Champagne, it’s a drug meant to subdue any living person,” Christoph advises me, instead of answering my question.

“Are we here to destroy them?” I almost shout to make myself heard over the loud music, a luring tune, overwhelming, yet so sensual.

“Nope,” answers Flake with his glance lost in admiring a brunette dancing on the stage, right in front of us.

He sits with his head leaned backward, his eyes stuck on the round shapes moving languorously. Her skin shines under colored electric lights, her full round breasts, like half melons, jump inside the black and silver bra, her exposed thighs are long and silky, while her whole body moves like it’s all muscles, just like the body of the incredible thick and long serpent coiled around her divine form.

On the same stage I spot this cage where there are two children with blond hair, but their eyes are surrounded by black make-up. But then, on the farthest point of the stage I see them - Olli, Richard and Paul.

They are singing, they are the live band entertaining the clients for this day, they are accompanying the woman’s dance.

They look so neat in their suits; they seem not to have noticed us, they just carry on with their show, while the customers focus on the dancing woman at the edge of the stage, right in front of Flake. And Flake seems just as hypnotized as a snake by a flutist. That’s when I notice how neat our clothes look too. I wonder where all that dust and sweat disappeared.

“How the hell did they manage to get caught?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but it has to be the six of us, otherwise we can’t beat the shit out of that lizard,” Christoph replies.

“This is so...” I start as I’m lighting myself a cig, not before throwing another glance to what is happening on the stage.

In the hand of the woman appears this bottle of Champagne. The woman smiles, a thousand of sweet promises smile, as Flake is caressing her ankle. She starts pouring the liquor from the bottle over her knee, and the liquid moves languidly along her ivory-like shin, to her foot, into Flake’s mouth.

“Fuck!” Christoph yells, jumping to his feet, kicking Flake’s chair, and making him fall on the floor.

In the same second, men and women - red sparkles like flames of Hell in their eyes, surround us.
But Christoph doesn’t seem intimidated as he kicks the table, making it fall, and, with it, the dancer too.

“Now those flamethrowers would be good,” I hear myself growling.

In that instant I feel in my palm the rounded thick barrel of the flamethrower. I clutch my fingers over it; I lift it, aim at those surrounding us, and, like in a reflex gesture, squeeze the trigger. In the same moment the machine starts spitting this long line of fire, like a red and burning tongue. Bodies ignite like paper and burn with hissing sounds, their ashes falling like a gray snow on the wooden floor.

“Run!” Christoph yells at me as he grabs Flake’s hand and starts dragging him away.

“Behind you!” I hear this husky voice.

I turn around and fry this man that’s now transforming into a creature getting ready to attack me.

“Thanks man!” I throw over my shoulder to Richard, while watching the demon becoming a pile of smoking ashes.

I push another creature and jump on the stage.

“Let’s fry some demon ass!” This war cry makes me twist my head; near me is Paul, turning his flamethrower on and starting to torch the creatures of Hell that are assaulting us.

Encouraged, I do the same, delightedly watching the fire tongues burning these two monsters that followed me onto the stage.

“Mother fuckers!” Richard's war cry too, and he's fighting with his own share of monsters.

“We're surrounded!” Olli announces to us.

“Run, run Till, and turn the page to open the door on the back-stage!” Christoph is shouting at me, while with one hand he's maneuvering his flamethrower, and with the other he is holding Flake to protect him against the monsters' stretched arms, claiming his body.

“Do it!” I hear Richard.

“I'll cover you!” Paul assures me.

I turn on my feet and run toward the curtains covering the back of the stage.

“Hurry!” I hear through enraged growls, shouts of pain, and the scorching sounds of burning bodies.

Like from nowhere, in front of me appears this creature with eyes like two incandescent coals, its face resembling a skull being covered by a yellow-brownish skin looking like parchment. The creature grins at me, revealing its huge fangs threateningly.

Only when seeing in the background a worried Paul signaling me that I should go and fulfill my task, I realize I am standing motionless in front of this creature, paralyzed by shock. I grab the flamethrower, aim and turn it on. In the next second in front of me is just this immense moving and howling-in-pain fire.

They said I should turn the page, I repeat in my mind while running toward the back of the stage, looking for that door, as I’m getting closer and closer to it.

I picture in my mind the impact of my shoulder as I bump into the door, rather than feeling it.

*

First I don’t even realize what’s happening. I only feel the bright white light as if kicking into my pupils, and my own body’s free falling.

“TILL!”

That shout slashes the air as I sense falling into freezing water, so freezing that at first it feels like fire burning my skin.

“Fuck!”

And I figure it – I’m in water, must be the Ocean in the North.

I hold my breath. I open my eyes. I look up, and fight with my own limbs not to let them turn instantly into ice, but force them to move. C’mon, help me get to the surface!

But up there, where there should have been the door to fresh air for my lungs to breathe again, I see this wide thing like a ceiling.

I’m fucked!

And I curse my own hands and legs, and I order them to keep moving, to help me swim along the icy ceiling, as I’m hoping to reach to a crack in it. And I fight with the cold, and the thick water and my own sore muscles. I try to kick the ice, to break it, but the water slows my movements. Now I’m fighting with my own eyes to keep them open, while struggling with myself to hold my breath just for one more split of a second, just one more, before I inhale the water.

My fingers cling onto the sturdy cold surface above my head, as I’m begging it to break. No, I don’t want to give in yet, even if I know I’m about to let the water fill my nostrils. A thought about me struggling like that, all those erratic movements not helping me, that I should calm down, crosses my mind. My mind catches another glimpse of the massiveness of the ice block above me, the feeling of my own body with slowed movements due to the thickness of the water, before I get ready to admit it. I know it, but I still refuse to admit.

That’s when I catch it – a feeble sound of a voice singing, a woman’s suave voice saying “A day without you is like a bird without singing ...”

I must be hallucinating, I’m thinking, as I turn around as if looking for the one singing. It can’t be possible, I’m in the water, I tell myself as I leave behind the surface covered by the block of ice and swim toward the spot I think is the source of the voice.

“You’re the hunter...” I catch again the voice, but now it’s singing a new song, and the further I swim toward the depths of the ocean, the clearer I hear the voice. It has some sort of suavity mixed with an unimaginable strength, and I feel as if I’m lured to it, drugged by it.

“I’m the hunted,” the voice carries on, on a high pitch. This is how angels must sound when singing, I think, as I swim faster.

The waters feel even colder around me, but for some unknown reason it doesn’t bother me anymore. Also, they seem to get thicker and darker, a dense dark green, but that doesn’t bother me either – the voice is guiding me. And I’m not afraid of swimming further, toward the bottom of the ocean. I realize that I don’t have problems with the breathing anymore. But I don’t give it too much thought, as I am more concerned about getting to the one singing with such a soothing and surreal voice.

At one point I see something far away from me – a shadow in the shape of a human body sitting on the edge of a rock, as the rock seems to be the peak of an under-water mountain. That’s when the voice stops singing. Suddenly I feel the coldness and the pressure of the water. I move, slowly, though, toward that shadow. But the shadow remains there, still – at least I’m not hallucinating. And I get even closer, still with slow movements, thinking that whoever might be there could get scared by my appearance.

The figure sitting there doesn’t get scared though; the voice starts again, another song, the words seeming to pour from the water and mingling with it. I can’t realize whether I’m hearing the singing for real or it’s only in my head.

“Travel the days of freedom, roads leading everywhere... ” The voice sings, as I’m getting even closer toward the silhouette sitting on the rock. “... follow the dying embers,” it goes on, and I see more clearly the roundness of a woman’s shoulders, the shape of her arms crossed over her chest.

“Imagine the burning embers, they glow afar, you won’t remember and all you’ll find there, is love. Ashes are burning brightly,” she continues, as if she hasn’t seen me. “The smoke can be seen from afar. So now you’re seeing how far, ashes are burning the way...”

Her face surely looks like a woman’s face, with childish features, but her head is covered by white fur, and on top of it she has a pair of rounded ears, like of a bear.

“Actually, I am a mermaid!”

I look at her, startled, not by the way she looks, but by the fact that she didn’t even open her mouth to pronounce the words. It was as if I was hearing them in my head. Then, I think of the classic image of the mermaid.

“These waters are so cold sometimes,” replies her voice with a sigh and she uncrosses her arms, opening them as if getting ready for an embrace. “But you’re not here to talk about what I am and what I should look like,” her voice adds as she shakes her head, and with each movement, these long, black silky strands of hair detach off her head, dancing through the thick waves around the small white shoulders of the creature. In the same time I see that the skin on her chest seems to be covered by diamonds that start glistening; and from the waist down she appears to wear some sort of skirt, covered in glittering gems too, a skirt infinitely long, covering the underwater mountain toward the bottom of the ocean.

She is a mermaid! She is...

“You lured me here to kill me,” my thoughts whisper as if they weren’t even mine.

Not even her chuckle seems to snap me out of my state.

“I can’t kill something that’s already dead.”

“Oh!”

For few minutes I seem unable to say anything, but it’s not because I’d be shocked by the news. Maybe it’s better that way, I’m tired of chasing beasts and dragons, of being thrown from one insane world to another, even worse than the previous.

“The Dragon can be destroyed only by a living being, a human being,” her voice chants between my thoughts.

Yeah, but I’m dead, end of story.

~ To Be Continued ~
- 16
- 17
- 18
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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)