Chapter III
Suddenly his memories are interrupted by a soft knocking. He gets up and stretches his arms, slowly walking towards the door and opening. "Good evening, Kroenen." It is Ilsa. He opens the door completely and gestures her to come inside. "Thanks. Say... I'm going to buy groceries and I will cook dinner. Do you want to eat something, too?" Karl thinks for a moment, rolling his eyes up beneath the gas mask. Then he nods. "Good. Would you mind writing down what you'd like to eat? I even brought you paper." She smiles and hands a small piece of paper to her silent companion. Karl nods again, scrutinizing her up and down behind the black, empty lenses and licking his bare teeth. Somehow she seems to grow more beautiful year by year. He turns to the left and bends down over a small table, grabbing a pen and starting to write. "How about lasagna?" She smiles brightly, trying to see his eyes for a moment. "Of course. Anything else I can get you?" He bends back down and writes again. "Since when are you so nice? Before, you never even asked if I was hungry." She reads his graceful writing. "Well, you know... I thought about how I treated you the past years... and I came to the conclusion..." At this point she blushes heavily, staring down to her feet and lowering her voice, not thinking about Kroenen's excellent hearing. "I didn't treat you the way you deserved to... You never did me wrong... But I think I was a little disrespectful towards you..." Karl quickly writes another line on the paper. "No reason to feel guilty. Nevermind." Her face looks a little sad, her eyes are watery and her lower lip is trembling. His elegant writing forms more words. "You could get me grapes and some chocolate, if it isn't too much to ask for. Oh, and I'd love to have something to read. I'm horribly bored these days. Do you need money?" Ilsa sighs and smiles at him once more. "No, I think I have enough money. Magazine or book?" He raises two of his slim, graceful fingers. "Book, alright. Which genre?" He takes the paper one more time. "Choose something you like. Everything but this romantic women-stuff with lots of heartache." She giggles. He even had drawn a little smiley underneath the last words. "Fine. I'll call you for dinner when I'm done, okay?" He nods, lowering his head a little. A gesture he used to express gratefulness and respect. With that she leaves his room, hurrying down the hallway. Karl takes a deep breath and looks out of the window. It was dry outside, but heavy, dark clouds covered the sky. Perhaps there would be some rain tonight. He almost hoped for it, as the rain always offered him a possibility to leave the castle without having Ilsa follow him. He sat down again, hanging his head low a bit. If only she knew what really bothers him. But he is too proud to admit that his heart is broken and that he is in need of some comfort. He also doesn't want her to be sad. Noone knows about the big heart he carries inside his chest. Noone actually knows about any of his feelings. He intentionally made Ilsa think he didn't have longings or emotions like sadness, loneliness, sorrow. And he never complained. He just watched her from a distance, wishing for her to be happy, but at the same time convinced that she would never be able to find happiness with him. Even though he would give everything to be with her. Taking off his mask, he rubs his devastated face and throat. The scars and wounds itched a little and his shoulders hurt from tension. He sighed; hopefully Ilsa would be going out soon so he could take a bath without being disturbed. His body needed to be taken care of desperately. "I'm sorry I put you through so much stress... I'll attend to you. Soon." he thinks to his own body. Over the years he had tried to make up for letting his own body starve to death. From time to time he granted himself a little break, enjoying a long shower or eating something exceptionally delicious. Even though he didn't need to eat or sleep, since he wouldn't die a second time, he felt the need to apologize for how he had mistreated himself. Aside from the palms of his hands, which he considered to be filthy and unclean, he loved his body. Adrenaline injections to endure long term stress and straining workout in order to keep in shape for the Master often caused injuries and severe exhaustion. After what had happened to him on the day he had met Ilsa he also considered everything between the lower edge of his ribcage and his knees his private parts; front and backside. These parts of his skin were the ones where his obsession with surgery and perfection had caused the least damage and almost no scars; the surface of his body felt gorgeously soft there and was very sensitive. Even when he and Ilsa had sexual intercourse - a mutual consent between the two of them, the nights often were cold and very lonely - she had never been allowed to set her hand to his private areas. Already the imagination of being touched there by foreign, impure hands made him shiver in disgust. At first he had feared Ilsa wouldn't let herself in for this - having the closest physical contact they could have without using her hands. But to his surprise she had liked it decidedly good. He silently groaned when he remembered how she had moaned with pleasure under him, almost screaming his name everytime he touched the right spots. His pelvic muscles shivered a little with the arousal those memories gave him. And how impressed she had been by his stamina... even though he had never touched himself over all those years. Handpalms... He sighed again. Oh, how he wished to be her beloved... His heart clenched hardly and tears welled up in his blue eyes. He had spent over 60 years at her side, protecting her and taking care of everything she needed. But he always had felt so unworthy; without body warmth he couldn't even warm her when she was cold, not even to think about kissing her. And he feared that his touch felt cold and dead to her. Just like the steady, lifeless ticking of his heart. But he remained silent, watching how he slowly lost his touch on her. Watching it all fade away.
From a distance he heard the huge door of the castle shut. She was home again. A sudden streak of curiousity took hold of Kroenen, so he got up and left his room, quickly going downstairs and joining her in the kitchen. He shyly opened the big wooden door and peeked inside. "Oh, hey Kroenen!" She smiled brightly, even though her hair was wet from the heavy rain that had started outside shortly after she had left the store. Karl took a towel from the nearby heating and carefully placed it around her shoulders. It sent a warm shiver down her body and she leant against his chest for a moment, breathing deeply and closing her eyes. His whole body trembled with overwhelming feelings, just as always, when she touched him a gentle way. He closed his arms around her before he had even thought about it, slowly letting his head sink on her shoulder. Warm air evaded the filter of his mask, making the tiny hair on Ilsa's neck stand up. She sighed comfortingly, pressing her cheek against the warm metal. Kroenen's gloved hands had started to massage her shoulders. He pulled her back a little and sat down on a small chair, making her sit on his lap. He almost felt innocent at that moment. His feelings weren't driven by sexual arousal and neither were Ilsa's. They just sat there and he had the opportunity to comfort her, which he did quite well, as she rapidly drifted into a warm sense of wellbeing underneath his skilled, gracious fingers. She opened her mouth, whispering softly into where she thought his ear might be. "You're really good at this... Thank you, Karl... I haven't felt so good in months..." Beneath the mask, Kroenen was awakened by her voice from a absentminded state of just concentrating on stroking her as softly as possible. His whole mouth was full of water and saliva had already started to run down his chin as he hadn't even thought about swallowing from time to time. Without his lips, there was nothing that would keep the fluid inside his mouth. He backed his head away a little and reached behind his shoulders, taking the mask off swiftly and silently. Then he wiped his wet chin and throat with the sleeve of his shirt, making her giggle slightly. "Forgot to swallow? Or aroused by me?" He shook his head and tensed his muscles as if to smile. It didn't quite look like one but Ilsa knew. She had lived together with Karl for so long, she now knew exactly how his face changed when he tried to express certain emotions. She looked at his devastated face for a moment. Over the years she had gotten used to it and even found a certain beauty in it. "May I touch you?" Kroenen nodded. Ilsa raised her hands and gently put them on his scarred skin, stroking and caressing the tensed muscled and the badly healed sutures. He rolled his eyes upwards - his form of closing them - and moaned barely audible, greatly enjoying the feeling. "Does that feel good? It's been quite a while since you allowed me to touch you." A soft "Ngh-hng... Thank you..." rattled from his throat and made her shiver. It had been years since he last had spoken, his deep, soothing voice, even if it was hoarse and very low, made her smile. Suddenly she recognized the human behind this broken facade again. She could see the pain he endured everyday in his eyes and felt a little sorry for him. How good it seemed to do him that somebody finally touched him and took the time to ease his pain almost brought tears to her eyes. Such a small gesture, and still it enabled him to unwind for a moment. Kroenen's facial muscles visibly relaxed and made him look 20 years younger. Also, he stopped gritting his teeth and opened his mouth a little bit. His light rose tongue showed through the dental arches. Ilsa slowly moved forwards, his head still in her hands, and kissed Karl's teeth, letting her tongue slide into his mouth and playing a little with his. A suprised gasp escaped his throat and he reluctantly joined the little game she had started. But after a long moment he tilted his head back. "Don't... you'll make yourself unhappy..." he whispered, deeply gazing into her eyes. "What?" Kroenen lifted her off his lap and got up. "You shouldn't do that..." his voice sounded hoarse as always, but for a moment she thought she had heard distinct sadness in it. She looked at him. Over the decades he had grown pretty strong, and even though he still was mostly skin and bones, decent muscles were outlined against his slender silhouette. "I never recognized how handsome you were, Kroenen..." she mumbled and immediately blushed, trying to hide her eyes unterneath her blonde thatch. Karl lowered his eyes as well. He instinctively knew that it actually hadn't been meant for his ears. A barely audible "Thank you..." was all he managed to say. "I'll get our dinner ready then... Do you want to call me when I'm done cooking?" He silently nodded and backed away, before turning around and almost running back to his rooms as soon as she was out of sight. His thoughts started running wild. "Oh god... How am I supposed to not feel anything for her when she says stuff like that? I should've never gone downstairs to her..." But then her words swayed through his mind again and again. "Handsome... me? I wonder if she meant it..." Swiftly he vanished back into his quarter, sitting down in a comfortable chair, taking a deep breath and trying to sort his thoughts. Absentmindedly he put his hands over the lenses of the black mask he had put back on while hurrying upstairs. He drifted back into his memories...
Suddenly Kroenen jumped awake. He immediately felt horrible. His whole body seemed to be dried out and his head was aching terribly. But the rest of the pain was merely a nagging pressure that pulsed through him. He could clearly hear his clock ticking so he briefly looked to his nightstand. Almost midnight. Slowly he got up, flexing his arms and legs a little. A glimpse into the mirror made him freeze. He looked even worse than a prisoner from Auschwitz. His whole body, only dressed with - strangely enough - dustcovered shorts and a shirt, also covered in a grey veil of dust. Both of them looked fairly oversized were about to slide from his scraggy waist and shoulders. Without a word he got rid of the tagrag around his chest and stared at his reflected image. Skin and bones weren't even enough to describe it. For a few minutes he just stood there, until dread turned into fascination. A strange, otherworldly beauty radiated from this sight. For a second he thought the ticking of the clock seemed strangely loud, considering how far away from it he was standing. But the moment he closed his clotty eyes he realized something. It felt as if the strange voice with the thick Russian accent suddenly grew a face inside his memories. He didn't know why, but he remembered it as the voice that belonged to Grigori Jefimowitsch Rasputin, the supposedly dead magician that had served the Russian Royal Family until his death in 1916. And from somewhere Kroenen knew that he know was destined to serve exactly this man. Taking a closer look at himself he now also noticed the golden dial on the left side of his chest. And it didn't even bother him. He clearly knew that the Master had replaced his dead human heart with the clockwork heart Karl himself had designed and built years ago. Shyly, with a hoarse voice he asked: "Master Rasputin? Do you hear me?" An unearthly breeze wafted through the room and the familiar, deep voice appeared behind Karl's ears, making him turn around. "Aah... Doktor Kroenen. Good to see you finally arose from your slumber. How do you feel?" Kroenen's whole body shook with deep respect and enthusiasm. "I... uh... good! Thank you. Thank you. I am deeply grateful for this present you gave to me..." his voice rattled. He bowed down and lowered his head, not even daring to catch the Master's gaze. Rasputin smiled, completely satisfied with his new servant. "My pleasure, Doktor Kroenen. Know, that you now are more than any man can become during his lifetime. You are now blessed with invulnerability to physical damage. You will be able to lose great amounts of blood without fainting or dying. Also, you will notice, that winding up your clockwork heart will provide you with enhanced strength, speed and reflexes - a little gift from our gods, whose magic enabled the fusion of your body with your new heart. But be aware; once the clockwork is completely destroyed or your head is separated from your body, you will suffer another death." His soothing voice lowered. "But don't be afraid. For my loyal servants, no death is final..." He finished his words with a warm, almost friendly chuckle towards Kroenen. "Use your gifts wisely. Downstairs you will find a stack of books. Read them. You will understand. Then start your preparations for Projekt Ragna Rok. We will create a new Garden of Eden." Karl nodded, still shivering all over, and responded "I will do as you wish. Thank you. For everything." Rasputin smiled again and gently patted Kroenen on the shoulder. Then he vanished into thin air. Kroenen shook his head for a moment and tried to calm down his thoughts. Still unable to truly believe what just had happened, he went into the bathroom. "Undead men shoul be clean as well, I guess..." He mumbled, a little amused.