Immaculate Misconceptions

"So are we gonna be able to bail him out?" Ryan asked, the same amount of shock dripping in his voice that was read on the other member's faces.
Their tour manager pressed his lips together firmly, shaking his head, "They won't let us see him. Apparently the man he nearly 'choked to death'," The statement was dripping with sarcasm (everyone knew that Chris wouldn't have gone that far... nor would anyone let him), "is pressing charges. Instead of a holding cell, he's being transferred to a correctional cell until he stands trial." He played with the papers in his hands, "With assault and battery charges already seeming to be on his back, we might be looking at a mandatory 6 years."
"What's going to happen to the tour? To the band?" Ricky asked with concern.
He shrugged, "I can't say right now. Tour's going to have to hold until we hear from the precinct and then we're gonna have to see what we can do to get Chris back. For now, we're going to have to find him a decent lawyer."
"Decent? Chris would be eaten alive by the lawyers these religious dicks get these days. We need to get him a REAL lawyer." Angelo pointed out sternly.
"Oh yeah with what money? Tour funds? How are we even suppose to tour without our front man!" Josh didn't mean to come out so harsh... he just felt that this whole experience was unreal. The members of the band were family and to have Chris arrested right in front of him sent a pang in his chest.

The boys seemed to recoil already feeling the effects of missing their front man.
"I know you guys are upset..." The tour manager offered, "But don't start beating yourselves up about it. We'll figure something out and get Chris back here as soon as possible.. I promise." The manager would pause for a moment... "In the mean time... Give Kuza a call."

~~

Chris gasped loudly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as the icy cold water gave him a rude awakening. Where was he?
He hissed at his first attempt to lift his head and study his surroundings, the movement made him throb as a stabbing pain flared at the base of his neck. He was remembering now... He's remembering why his wrist began to bleed, why his upper arms throbbed, why he couldn't seem to stand, why his eye was swollen, why his rib-cage was bruised, why his mouth tasted like copper, why he was so thirsty, why he was so hungry, and why he was fighting.

As Chris' vision began to focus he recognized the man who threw the water at him to be one of the dirty cops that brought him here, he carried a baton on his waist; the other man that was beginning to unlock his shackles... was new and younger than the rest. There was always more of them... As one arm fell free, Chris gritted his teeth at the amount of pain in the muscles of his shoulder but was thankful that it was released from it's painful position. When his other arm slumped at his side he fought to stay on his feet, his knees throbbed and he had to lean against the wall for support. As he pushed himself up against it, small shots of pain throbbed along his back. The two men grabbed for his bruised upper arms. Chris jerked himself away from them, his elbow made contact with the new young man's face causing him to stumble back and hold his nose in pain.
"ARG!" Chris collapsed to the floor, the sound of the blow he received on his back echoed throughout the room. He gasped for breath as he laid on the ground. His collision made his ribs throb and his chest sting, his heart felt like it was cramping. He would imagine that would be how it felt to have a heart attack... He'd much prefer to have a heart attack right now.

When Chris was slow to pick himself up the two men (one bloody nosed) grabbed him by his upper arms and began to drag him to another part of the room, his knees dragged along the ground ripping holes into his jeans and causing his knees to bleed. They dumped him under the same spot he was before, the ground stained with evidence from the previous night. They tore his jacket off his body and tossed it somewhere. Chris didn't hear it fall anywhere so he presumed 2 men became 3. He could hear his heart beat as the room seemed to go silent. He moaned as he rolled onto his side, grunting as his body throbbed again. He had no doubt he had broken bones, possibly hairline fractures. He pushed himself up as much as he could, lifting his head to look around.
He saw no one.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!" His voice was coarse, "I'M RIGHT HERE MOTHER FUCKERS! YOU THINK YOU CAN BREAK ME SO EASILY? YOU THINK YOU CAN SHUT ME UP, YOU THINK YOU CAN SHUT UP THE WORLD FROM SPEAKING THEIR MIND! I AM THE VOICE OF THE VOICELESS AND YOU KNOW WHAT I SAY?!" His voice echoed but he knew they were there... He knew they were watching him like the sick fucks they were... Chris kept his jaw locked, refusing to utter another sound of pain as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled slightly, swaying as he held onto his abdomen, "I say," He breathed, "Go Fuck Yourselves."

He flinched, looking around the room at the sound of a door slamming shut.. or was it open?
He felt his blood boil again, who the hell did they think they were? And what gave them the right to be doing this to HIM? These... these parasites have no clue what "their children" go through just to earn acceptance. Chris knew what it was like and he would not be silenced.
"What are you waiting for?!" He screamed, his voice getting throaty, "COME AND FUCKING GET ME! YOU WANT TO SHUT ME UP?! YOU WANT TO GET RID OF ME? COME AND GET ME! CAUSE I'M STILL FUCKING STANDING! I'M STILL FUCKING BREATHING! And I'm still fucking speaking for the children you scorn."

He could hear it then... The scrapping of something being dragged across the room and being dropped or put down with a loud thump. Chris' fingers twitched as he waited for another sound, another sign of movement. He'd push the aches and pains in his body away as he focused on remembering the faces of the crowds he played for and remembering what he set out to achieve when he first started music. These thoughts helped fuel him. These thoughts kept him fighting even as the scraping returned and a wooden chair was presented in front of him. It looked sturdy and had straps everywhere. The back of the chair was exceptionally long... It clicked in his mind that this was no ordinary chair.
He fought against the men that grabbed his arms, taking him by surprised as they pushed him towards the chair. He flailed his body, growling in frustration as he kicked and trashed in attempt to yank his body away but it was no use. The men had the upper hand of Chris' injuries and their own strength.

They spun him around and pushed him back hard enough to send the chair falling back with Chris in it. Chris grunted and clenched his teeth when his ribs flared. Two other men lifted the chair back up causing Chris to hunch over. Chris fought to get himself off the chair as each man grabbed one of his limbs. His legs were pulled close to the thick legs of the chair, he kicked and lifted his hips in attempt to throw them off but they were quick to wrap long leather straps around his ankles and calves, buckling them tightly. When they were done with his legs the two men got up to assist the other two who held his arms out on either side of him as he tried to shake them off, ignoring the burning pains as he hunched himself forward to keep his back off the back of the chair. He pulled and yanked but the extra four hands were able to grab his shoulders, pulling them against the back of the chair and wrap another thicker leather strap around his upper body, pulling his chest and shoulders into the chair so he sat straight. He growled as they tightened it against his bruised skin. With his upper body immobilized, it only took them a few short moments to tie down his wrist to the arms of the chair. He shook his head rapidly as they brought another strap towards it. They grabbed his hair and pulled it back before they worked quickly to strap his head tightly to the chair. He tried to control it but his breathing was beginning to quicken as he panicked.

"Arg!" He growled as he shook the chair, rocking it back and forth as he pulled against the restraints. Bruises ached and his heart pounded as they all stepped away from him and stood in a line with their hands behind their back. None of them looked at him, "COWARDS!" Chris growled at them, struggling to move his head.
"Christopher Cerulli," It was a voice from yesterday, "You are so quick to speak when your words, your suggestive lyrics and disgusting behavior corrupt the lives of our beautiful and once pure children. You feed them lies and stand on a pedestal as if you were a God." The man made himself present and behind him stood the same younger man from earlier. His nose was bruised, possibly broken, but he rolled a cart with a device on it that made Chris pull harder at his restraints.

The device consisted of a square box and a cap made of various straps with wires hanging from it. When opened, the box was adorned with 2 dials, several switches, and one button. There were also 2 meters with different units of measurement. Chris stopped struggling then, when they parked the cart on his right side. He glared at them, his chest rising and falling, his breathing heavy as he scowled.
"We come before you, Cerulli, not in vain but with open arms to welcome you to the word of God. To attempt to scavenge your soul from Lucifer's clutches-"
Chris spat at the man's direction, barely missing his light blue jeans.
The man looked at him, shaking his head, "Christopher, we mean you no harm."
"Bull shit." Chris sneered.
The man shook a finger at him, "We come to you under the blessed hand of God and we ask you... search within yourself, find yourself and fight against the demon that consumes you. Let us help you redeem your soul." He motioned to the younger man who glared at Chris as he lifted the cap and maneuvered himself behind Chris. He sat still, back straight and chest puffed out as he felt the cap being placed on the top of his head, wrapping around his forehead and tightening. With another motion of his hands the man had another older man with glasses approach the box and begin turning the dials.
Something began to buzz to life.
Chris closed his eyes, his nails dug into the chair.
"Christopher Cerulli, under the eyes and ears of God, confess your sins!" This man made his stomach churn. Not because he sounded absolutely crazy but because he sounded absolutely... sane. As if this was the normal behavior expected in society.
Chris opened his eyes then, turning his head as much as he could to face the man, "... Fuck. Yo-HNG!" The disturbing sound that left Chris' mouth as his body began to shake and twist uncontrollably would've made anyone turn away from the horrid sight that laid before them. But the group simply watched. His chest was lifting from the chair as all the muscles in his body seemed to clench before it stopped. Chris' chest fell and his muscles relaxed... the hair on his arms sent off small wiff of burnt hair.
"Christopher we ask again, confess your sins! Beg for the forgiveness of the lord-"
"Your God is worthless-" Chris screamed as the currents attacked his body again, his vision flashing white as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His head was trashing and his legs vibrating. A choking sound could be heard escaping from his lips as he fought to stay conscious, as he fought to speak.

They stopped again... this time the ends of his hair were curled and crisp. Chris panted, sweating. The electric currents were draining him... but not enough to kill him. They didn't want to kill him. Not yet.
"God is watching! Beg, Cerulli. Beg for your saviors forgiveness! Cast the devil from your heart and welcome the warm embrace of God!"
"You stand for.. nothing... but a false idol." Chris managed before the currents rushed through him again, his body twitching and twisting.
Chris' bowels released themselves, his heart beat was erratic and uneven. The smell of Chris' defecation was beginning to fill the room as it soiled through his clothing. His breathing was rasped and a gurgling sound came from his throat as his eyes stayed open, his pupils dilating.

They stopped the currents again but this time Chris continued to twitch and shake, his nails began to bleed as the wood splinted under them. Chris was still conscious but remained limp.
"His demons are strong..." The man murmured to the one controlling the box, "Cerulli, let go of the darkness that you have learned to love. It lies! Welcome the kingdom of God into your haven. For it is he who can truly save and inspire the lives of our children."
Anything said to Chris went in one ear and out the other. He couldn't think... he stared blankly into empty space as his head laid limp within the restraints. Deep inside Chris' mind, he reached out for the images of faces. The ones that cheered him on and the ones that loved him. He tried to remember his band mates... He tried to remember his parents.

With his mouth still slightly gaped his eyes moved to the man once again. He breathed through his mouth, the air vibrating his chest as his heart beat began to slow dangerously,
"I am.." He breathed again, "Who I am..." His head pounded and the small of burnt hair made him nauseous.
The men stared as him curiously, was he confessing? Or has his demon come out to confront them?
"And I... we.. will not be silenced." Chris rested his eyes for a minute, the images flashing through his mind of all the letters he ever received... every fan who's run up to him just to embrace him and cry in his arms. Every fan who's life he's saved...

The men looked at each other with worried expressions on their faces. Their worry turned into fear at the mention of the word "we." Christopher Cerulli had let the devil take him over. They murmured amongst themselves.
The man held up a hand to silence them, "Speak thy name servant of Satan and remove thyself from the body of God's child."
Chris' eyes stayed shut, a small whisper of voice escaping from his lips as he hummed something... a melody that could yet to be recognized. He heard them speak to him... Did they think he was possessed? Chris' fingers twitched with left over currents as he exhaled softly, "I am Chris Motionless and you are pathetic."
They watched as his eyes shot open, blood vessels within them popped, exposing bold red veins. His screams pierced ears but they did not move even as smoke began rising from the ends of his hair. The veins in his neck began to bulge and the electricity only made his feces more pungent. Chris' mouth lolled open as the gurgling sound became more defined... louder. A yellow foam began to trickle from his lips, Chris was no longer conscious even as his eyes darted and rolled within his skull. His nose began to bleed and the foam and drool trickled down his chin in long ropes. The chair rattled as his body shook and then it stopped.

Chris' eyes remained open but he could not process anything. He couldn't feel anything... couldn't really hear anything. Everything was muffled, his vision was blurred.
The group removed Chris from the chair, letting him lay on the floor like a rag doll.
"This is a house of God, clean his... mess up. You can dispose of his underwear... his pants don't seem to be too soiled." The man ordered as the cart was packed and rolled away.
Two men from the group went to work, rolling Chris onto his back and undoing his pants. They were emotionless as they removed them and his underwear, tossing the underwear into a plastic bag. One of them dabbed at his destroyed jeans with a towel to remove any excessive urine, the other rolled Chris to the side, wiping down his buttox and his genitals before rolling him back on his back. The other man took the jeans and slide them up his legs once again, zipping them. Together, they dragged Chris back to his shackles. They lifted him and hung him from where he was, he dangled like a rag doll... an empty look in his glazed eyes.

A doctor came to check his heart rate and brain waves, injecting him with something... blue. He would write down that Chris would be alright. Only weakened and would respond more slowly until due time when the internal shock of the electric torture left him. He shut Chris' eyes and exited upstairs.
He was left there.. again. Fowl smelling and immobile.