The band was walking down the street, not knowing what to do. The boys were bored, they didn't have anything to do for today. Richard couldn't stay confined in the house anymore so he had barged into the living room, forcing everyone to go out with him, and promising them he would pay them food, since this always worked. That's how the boys found themselves in Berlin's streets.
"Oh my God guys look!" Paul yelled in a high pitched voice, startling everyone.
"What?!" Till yelled back, holding his heart as he nearly got a heart attack. He saw Paul pointing at swings in a children park. A confused look was plastered on his face, as well on the others'.
"These are swings Paul, what about them?" Flake asked like a father exasperated by his child. Paul was pouting.
"Let's go swing a bit!" The small guitarist yelled and began to run toward the park, "Last one will get fucked by Till during Bück Dich!" He knew it would make them react. And it did. They all followed Paul, pushing each other to save their honor. Oliver, being the tallest, reached the swings first. He sat down on the first one and waited for the others that were growling at each other, running. What would journalists say if they saw them like this?
Flake passed Paul and sat on the swing at the opposite of Oliver, leaving the last one free between them. Oliver saw something dark on the floor, he suddenly looked up, "HOLY SHIT TILL WHAT THE FUCK?!" He screamed as he discovered the singer sitting on the top of the structure, a smile on his face, "HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET HERE?!" Till simply shrugged and looked at Richard and Schneider. The drummer had grabbed the guitarist's jacket and had pulled him away from in front of him.
"GET OUT THE WAY BITCH!" The drummer yelled and jumped on the last swing and swung very high like a child.
"NEVEEER" The diva yelled back and grabbed the wooden board where Schneider was sitting. It didn't stop the drummer's movements so it dragged him against the floor, back and forth. He knew he should let go, but his ego was too high so he kept holding the board, even if his who'd body was full of sand and little rocks.
"You are being children," Flake muttered, the frown on his face turning into an evil smile as he looked at Richard accumulating sand on his face and clothes. He began to rock gently, to entertain himself as he watched the show on this right. He didn't even care about Paul sitting on his shoulder. It was okay since he wasn't too heavy.
"LET GO OF MY SWIIIIING" Christoph whined at Richard.
"NO I WANNA SWING TOO" the other answered, still holding tightly on the board. Oliver chuckled quietly as he was swinging gently on his own swing. He silently prayed for no family to come here with their children. They would be really surprised.
"Hey Ollie," a voice coming from above him said, "Do you think the little rocks on Richard can burn if I put fire on them?" Oliver frowned. What the fuck was Till suggesting? He looked up and gulped when he saw the singer holding a small flamethrower.
"Holy shit…" the bassist let out as he watched Till doing his experiment. Little flames reached Richard, who yelped.
"What the fuck Till?!" The guitarist looked up at the singer with a pout, gravel hitting his face as Schneider swung like a mad man.
"What I'm just trying something," he shrugged and kept spraying fire at him. Paul laughed and took a little red flag with a black Rammstein logo on it and planted it on the edge of the structure above him.
"I claim these swings as Rammstein Castle!" The smaller man raised his fist as he announced proudly is newly conquered territory.
On the other hand, Schneider was living his best life. He felt like a kid again, trying to swing higher and higher. Plus the fact that he was dragging Richard along with him made him happier. The guy was covered in gravel.
Till had approved Paul's game. He looked around, seeing if he had to throw fire at someone to defend their 'castle'.
Oliver was still judging his band mates. How did he get in a band full of children?
Flake was enjoying the view. Richard's situation was so funny. He was glad they had gone out, he didn't think it would be that fun.
Paul was laughing along with Till, Richard was so stubborn. They already knew he was, but they didn't think he could be THAT stubborn.
Richard was hating his life at the moment. He knew he should have let that damn board go earlier so he wouldn't have been covered in rocks. Right now, he didn't care, he just wanted to sit on the swing, "LET ME IIIIN" He yelled.
"NAH" Schneider yelled back. He would never let Richard take his place. So he kept swinging as high as he could, enjoying every time Richard scraped the floor.
Suddenly, a flash made them all freeze on their spot. A photographer, a journalist. They all began to panic and looked toward where the flash came from.
"Who are you?!" Paul yelled, "What do you want from Rammstein Castle?!" Flake rolled his eyes under him.
They waited for the journalist to show themselves, but nothing came.
"Till, my knight! Go burn that journalist down!" The small man ordered and Till nodded evilly.
"Of course Princess Paulchen," Till went down and walked toward the bush, his flamethrower ready to fire. He aimed toward the bush and a man yelped, coming out quickly.
"Dude it's me!" The singer frowned and looked up… Only to see Jens. What the fuck?
"The fuck are you doing here?" Till asked, confused. The younger man scratched the back of this head.
"Ah I just wanted to say hello, but you were busy and the view was just too funny to not take a picture. Please don--" He was cut off by a long and thin object nearly stabbing him. They both jumped and looked down to see… A drumstick? They turned toward the swings, Schneider was standing up with a drumstick into his hand, Richard happily swinging behind him.
"Fear my archer Sir Schneider, Jens !" Paul yelled from Flake's shoulders. Both Till and Jens laughed and walked toward them.
"Hi guys," Jens waved at them, "Just saying, but you should go home, I heard someone call the firefighter because they saw Till's fire… And the cops too, because you all were yelling in a children park," the photographer explained and the whole band went white as sirens could be heard.
"Well… Last one at home will get fucked in jail!" Paul yelled and ran away from them. Of course, everyone followed him, still wanting to protect their honor and to not be arrested. Richard struggled a bit, his body hurting from scraping the floor, but ran among the others, leaving gravel on the floor.
At home, they were all glad that the journalist was actually Jens, because they could have got into big trouble if it hadn't been him.
A few days later, they walked near the park, no one paid attention to it, except Paul, who yelled, "These children stole our castle! Let's reclaim it!"
Everyone sighed as Paul ran away, they were definitely too old to handle the small guitarist.