Immaculate Misconceptions

Another state, another city, another show. It was the same routine at this point for Chris Motionless and the rest of Motionless in White of course.
"Are you guys okay?" Their tour manager looked back at them from where he sat in the passenger side seat of the van.
They were all gazing out the window... Up the block was a mob of mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, people of the church shouting in front of Webster Hall with signs that read: "God Hates You" "Burn in Hell" "Sinners Burn" They've seen this type of behavior before, they weren't too surprised nor were they scared. But seeing these crowds always struck an unnerving feeling in their stomach. They were always begging for trouble.
"Guys?" Chris' head snapped over to the tour manager's direction, then his band mate's.

Ricky's head was pressed against the tinted glass as he gazed out the window with a sad kind of look on his face, Devin looked away from the window before running his fingers through his uncombed hair, Ryan was staring down at his lap, Josh laid his face in his hands out of stress, and Angelo looked back at Chris with a solemn look.
"We're ready." Chris mumbled, unbuckling himself.
Security opened the door of the van, "Keep your eyes glued to the floor, don't make eyes contact, don't respond. We have staff keeping the mob at bay." He looked at them through covered eyes.
"Let's do this shit." Josh announced, pushing himself up from his seat. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they piled out of the car, being surrounded by security once the van's door was closed behind them. Chris placed some large sunglasses over his face and out of nervous habit, Ricky lit a cigarette.

The walk towards the mob was unnerving, security began walking along the wall of the venue and most of the boys kept their heads tucked down as they walked at their own paces, refusing to be phased. Ricky chose to just stare at his surrounding, his cheeks sinking in every time he pressed the soft stick between his lips.
"FREAKS!"
"FAGS!"
"YOU'LL BURN IN HELL!"
"SAVE YOUR SOULS!"
"DEVIL WORSHIPERS!"
"YOU'RE CORRUPTING OUR CHILDREN!"
"MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON YOUR BLACKEN SOULS!"
"GO TO HELL!"

Hypocrites was all Chris could think of as the pollution of insults assaulted his ear drums.
We're all sinners.
The door to the venue was so close though... Everything could've been fine if Chris just hadn't looked up. Why did he look up?
A man pushed his way past security, slipping underneath them and startling Chris as he stepped up to him.
Then, it happened.
The man spat some kind of.. black substance in his face before screaming,
"You'll burn in hell faggot! Polluting our children's minds with your garbage! God will have no mercy on you!"
"Chris..." Ricky's voice was concerned... scared.

Chris didn't even realize he was shaking as he removed his sunglasses to wipe the black shit from his face. It was sticky like tar and fowl smelling. He glared up at the man who continued to shout bible versus at him,
"HYPOCRITE!" Chris screamed, lashing out, bringing him and the man to the floor. The mob seemed to jump back and scream in shock as Chris' hands found their way around the man's neck, squeezing it even as he clawed at Chris' fingers that dug into the flesh of his fat neck,
"All you do is talk and talk," Chris sneered in the man's face, "I've seen so many of you come and go, you think you know the world but you minimize your knowledge to a little black book written by man with a symbol of your so called God stamped on it. Think before you fucking speak, appearance isn't everything you disgusting PIG." Chris had pulled the man upright by his neck only to slam him back down into the floor, the man's head hit the concrete. The man's face was turning pale and Chris began to feel strong hands grip his clothes and yank him back forcefully, causing him to fall off of the man. He scrambled to attack the man again, his blood boiling but security grabbed his arms and yanked him upright.

He thrashed against them, his foot managed to kick the man in the gut as other security officers were helping him up. He jumped at the man again, security grabbing him and engulfing him in a bear hug,
"Chris chill out man!" Josh's voice called out behind him, panicked.
"SPIT IN MY FUCKING FACE AGAIN PRICK, I DARE YOU! I'LL PUT YOUR FACE TO THE FUCKING CURB AND STOMP YOUR FUCKING FACE IN MOTHER FUCKER!" He hollered as he tried to yank away from the men trying to detain him. He was so sick of this shit... Something about the man's decision of action ignited all the fires within Chris' mind and sent him off the wall.
He felt another man grab his arms and yank them behind his back in a painfully uncomfortable way. A sense of panic washed over Chris as he felt himself being pushed and shoved. The rest of Motionless in White watched in shock as two cops slammed Chris onto the hood of the police vehicle, they pushed his head into the warm metal as they began to cuff him.
"YEAH! ARREST THE BASTARD!" A women hollered,
"ROT IN A CELL YOU DEMON!"
Chris barked out a laugh as the cops yanked him up, "I'LL SEE YOU WHEN WE ALL BURN IN HELL TOGETHER!" He cackled. One of the cops smacked the back of his head,
"Eyes front and shut your mouth." He commanded.
"Fuck you!" Chris spat at the man's feet.
They glared at him, reviewing his rights before throwing him into the back of the car. Chris stared out the window with a scowl, sneering at the disgusting cheering mob. His band was being pushed into the venue by security and he could already imagine his tour manager frantically on the phone, trying to find out where they were taking the singer. Damn.

He stood quiet as the officers drove him to the station... although Chris would come to realize that wasn't where he was going at all.
"What the fuck is this?" Chris sneered as the car pulled into a dirt road and soon (what looked like) an abandoned building came in site.
"Shut up faggot." Oh great...Chris thought to himself. Why would they bring him HERE? By the sound of it, it wasn't good... at all. If only he could reach the cell phone in his back pocket...

They pushed and shoved him towards the building causing him to stumble. They brought him to an opening in the wall where he could guess a door was suppose to be and shoved him inside the, what he know realized, warehouse. There were unrecognizable things covered in dirty white sheets and the concrete floor was long destroyed and left in a ruble. He tripped and fell hard on his knees causing him to hiss in pain when the chunks of rock scratched into his skin.
"Get up!" One of the cops hit him in the back of the head, causing his teeth to chatter.
"What the fuck man!" Chris shouted at them, "Where the hell are we?"
"Didn't we tell you to shut up?!" There was a sharp pain in his lower back as he got up and the force that came with it sent him back to the floor, this time his face making contact with the dirt...
"You guys are fucking crazy!" he spat at them, already working on pushing himself up; the gravel dug into the skin on his forehead and chin. They yanked him to his feet and continued to push him until they reached a staircase leading downstairs, leading into darkness. Chris felt his heart begin to beat erratically as they began to shove him towards the stairs,
"Man, let go of me!" He yanked at the restraints.

One of them scoffed and Chris felt something hit the dip in the back of his knees sending his balance to hell and himself face first down the stairs. He let out grunts of pain as his body tumbled down the wooden staircase, a panel hitting his forehead and sending his vision white before he slammed into a wall at the bottom of the stairs. He heard his cell phone tumble and clatter onto the floor. Was this really happening to him? He groaned, flexing his back as if to shake off the pain and opening his eyes wide and shutting them to reset his blurry vision. He groaned in discomfort as he attempted to roll himself onto his back. He yelped when a firm hand gripped his hair and began dragging him along the dirt, he twisted in his cuffs, trying to pull away but the man just wouldn't let up. His ribs hurt and the pressure on his skull did no better to ease the throbbing that engulfed his body. When his vision managed to focus, he could see the two cops following him, his cell phone smashed to pieces (probably stomped on) by the wooden stairs.. With the cops being "in front" of him, that would mean there was a third person involved?

The lights were dim and strained his already throbbing vision but Chris was dragged to one spot where a single ceiling light shined the brightest. The stranger let go of his hair and his head hit the floor with a thump. Were they just going to leave him here? He tried to look around, the position he was in made it hard for him to push himself up. He saw the cops out of the corner of his eye but the third person was no where to be seen. With a grunt, Chris used most of his upper body strength to swing himself into a sitting upright position only to have his vision flash red, his upper lip digging into his teeth as a boot smashed into his face. He groaned, spitting up on the floor.

"What the hell is this?!" He hollered from the floor only to choke on his words as a boot made hard contact with the pit of his stomach causing him to whimper like a wounded animal. The tough exterior he was trying to hold up was faltering, he was scared. There was another blow somewhere along his back which caused him to thrash, arching his back as the spot seemed to flare in pain that tingled all the way up to his spine.
Were his ribs broken?
The room began to fill with his yelps and coughs, there were four people now (counting the "cops"). Two continued to beat him, kicking him, punching him. His vision flared white and hot as a tall man in a black mask kneeled against his chest, sending whips of pain into his ribs while making it hard to breath, and grabbed a fist full of his dirt covered hair only to yank his head up so he could smash his fist into Chris' face 3 times before left him.

How long has it been? He was numb now... The blows came more slowly.. as if they had to PICK where they wanted to hit him first. It was sick and made Chris want to vomit although he already did when his stomach couldn't handle the blows anymore. He could feel his eye begin to swell and he was more than positive that his ribs were broken. Someone was murmuring something somewhere in the room. Chris didn't want to go down... he was laying on his stomach now... He squirmed, arching himself in attempt to get up but he slumped down with a long groan. He felt like he was on fire. There was a small pool of bloody saliva collecting where he once laid weakened.
"Arg!" Pain seared through him as his head was yanked back, causing his back to painfully arch.
"Do you repent for your sins?" The man sounded young... maybe in his early 20s. But even with that, the sentence made Chris shiver.
"Hasn't your god told you to honor thy neighbor?" Chris' voice was raspy and low, almost like a tired growl. His teeth were stained with crimson red and he spat as the nickel taste collected in his mouth.

The man threw him back to the ground in disgust, "Then stay here and rot." He kicked him in between the ribs causing Chris to arch and squirm. Chris should have been playing a show in Webster Hall... He should have been singing his heart out to his fans and releasing all his anger of society through fierce low throaty growls. His adrenaline should be pumping through his veins. But there's a deeper emotion filling him now as the two "officers" undid the cuffs that bit at his wrists, the skin now red and chafed. His breathing was heavy and wheezy, the air stung his lungs ashe struggled to catch his breath. They dragged him backwards to another part of the room. With the little energy he was able to muster; he lifted his head, his good eye focused on the two figures who now took off their ski masks and were talking to a short and much older man dressed in white and red robes. The older man held something in his hands...

Chris looked up at the officers, he flexed his jaw. He wanted to curse them but his jaw ached from the boot that stepped on his face, painfully pushing his head into the ground during the merciless beating. They yanked his wrists upward and shackled them to rusted chains, much thicker than the cuffs, that hung from the ceiling. They released his wrists and walked over to dark colored cranks, only letting Chris remain slumped against the wall for a few short seconds before the sounds of creaking metal caused his ear drums to ring. The chains rattled and he felt his wrists being yanked upward and away from his body. They continued to lift him higher and higher. He groaned as he struggled to stand on his bruised legs, his knees throbbing. He couldn't hold his own weight as they lifted him to the point where he almost had to stand on his toes... They took his shoes off and tossed them somewhere, the only sound in the room was the distant murmuring and the sound of Chris' labored breathing. Chris couldn't hold himself much longer, he let out a cry as his legs gave in, pain shooting up his arms as his upper arms and wrists strained to support his weight. They stared down at him with smug looks before patting him down; they took his chains, wallet, cigarettes, removed any jewelery, and even tried removing Chris' facial piercings but he wouldn't let their hands get close enough to his face even as they slapped him and dug their nails into his cheeks. He wasn't going to let them take his identity.

The officers left him and he could hear them marching up the stairs. Ahead of him, the unmasked men looked back at him, then departed into the darkness of the room. The old man stood there for a moment, staring...
Chris' breathing was catching up to him but every breath hurt... so.. so much. His eye was swelled badly and any sane person could tell that he desperately needed medical attention. But he wasn't going to get it... He couldn't think straight either as his thoughts were swimming, floating far away from him. All he knew was that he was hurt.. and in danger and he hoped that someone was looking for him.
Chris flinched at the sound of walking as the man shuffled over to him. He brought himself to his feet, ignoring the pain as he lifted his head bravely to look down upon the old man who's white hairs stuck out of the little red cap on his head. He was dressed down in white robes with a long scarf over his shoulders who's panels were stitched with a golden cross. He stared at Chris coldly before opening the black book which Chris only recognized as a Bible. The man's hands stroke the text before he began to speak in a different language, phasing in and out from English to Latin.

His hands moved fluently over Chris' body in a way Chris had seen in movies... Was blessing Chris? Praying for his soul? The action brought a quiet chuckle from Chris' lips as he tugged on the chains slightly. His chuckle only got louder and braver to the point it almost resembled a crazed man. The Priest paused, looking up at him.
A small smirk played upon Chris' lips before he spoke, "I hope you choke on all the cum you fucking swallowed to get yourself this far." He spat at the man's feet causing him to jump back. He looked back at the man, studying his actions.

Chris refused to utter a sound as the man lifted the book and struck him on his right cheek, then his left... Then struck the base of his skull over and over until his head throbbed and the room span around him. Chris' knees gave in again and he hung like a rag doll... not even being able to utter a sound.

The Priest, satisfied with his work, tucked the book under his arm and disappeared, leaving Chris utterly alone and battered.