Immaculate Misconceptions

The room was spinning uncontrollably and his vision was blurred. His feet felt heavy as he moved them underneath himself in order to catch his footing and stand. Everything was so numb that his foot slipped and the chains rattled as his weight yanked against them. His head lolled back and forth as he mumbled something to himself. He would blink slowly, each blink slowed the spinning and helped him focus on his surroundings. He coughed dryly. There was a fowl taste in his mouth and a stench that made his stomach churn. Something wasn't right... His feet scuffled against the floor again as he caught his footing. He took a deep breath as he stood there for a moment, his arms raised high. There was something different... He'd hiss as he looked down at himself. His jeans were badly ripped in the front and his shirt was torn and dirty. His feet were covered in dirt and cuts. His underwear was missing... What did they do to him? Did they... no. They couldn't have. He remembered the feeling of his bowels releasing and hung his head in embarrassment at the thought. They must've cleaned him up.

No one seemed to be around. He'd jerk a shoulder forward in frustration causing the shackles to clank loudly against each other. he yanked at them again... and again and again. They rattled violently and he let out a ferocious scream similar to the ones he did at shows. He wasn't an animal. He wasn't going to be hung out to dry. He thrashed at them and yanked at them. Something in his shoulder popped and he let out a painful yell,
"MOTHER FUCKER!" He hissed, pushing himself against the wall as his shoulder seemed to be on fire. He clenched his jaw as he turned his head as much as he could. There was a bone sticking out oddly from his shoulder. He has dislocated it.
There was the sound of a door opening causing Chris to look away from his self inflicted injury. The man with the glasses who controlled the electric chair approached him with a needle in his hands. He stood before Chris stiffly, his eyes focusing on Chris' shoulder as he twirled the needle between his fingers.
"You hurt yourself." The man murmured.
"No shit!" Chris snapped, "Get away from me with that shit!" He glared at the needle.
"I need to push it back in." He made an advance towards Chris. Chris' leg shot out but he yelped as the shackled tugged at his arm. The man used this distraction to stab the needle into a vein in Chris' neck. Chris gasped and jerked away slightly but the cool liquid began to take effect and the muscles in Chris' body began to relax. He felt numb and couldn't move as the man walked to one lever and began to lower Chris' dislocated arm first then moved to the next to lower Chris' good arm until Chris was able to drop into a sitting up position.

The man adjusted him and Chris could only watch with a blank expression as he placed one hand firmly on Chris' shoulder and another on the bone that stuck out. With a firm push the bone fell back into place. Chris would've screamed at the amount of pain that seared through him but he couldn't even muster a sound. His eyes watered but he was incapable of reacting. The man would leave him there again completely useless. He couldn't even struggle. The numb, warm feeling left him irritated, frustrated, and upset. All he could do was stare into the room and for the first time he truly felt alone.
And he began to cry.
In his numb state, warm tears flowed down his cheeks. But don't think he cried because he was scared or because he was giving up. He cried for all the kids he'd stood up for. They'd be disappointed in him. He should be stronger than this. He should be fighting harder than this.
Only a whimper of a sound escaped his lips as he attempted to speak. He tried to move but every part of him felt like it weighed 1000 pounds. He became fully alarmed when he heard the fast pace walking of someone upstairs. His eyes were the only thing capable of moving as he followed the sound to the stairs that were just barely visible. Whoever it was looked back up them, then to the other side of the room where the man has walked off to before advancing towards Chris.

It was the young man that Chris was able to take a hit at before yesterday's events. The boy looked behind him one last time before kneeling before Chris. He grasped his face, his nails digging into his skin. He moved Chris' head from side to side as if to inspect him. Chris wanted to cry out when his fist made contact with his nose and an abnormal cracking sound rattled through his head.
"That's for this," He pointed at his own face, "You disgusting piece of shit. You are NOTHING!" He spat in Chris face and Chris felt his blood boil, "What makes you think you're better than any other person? Just because you wear black and dress like a fag doesn't mean shit!" He slapped Chris, "Your words mean nothing! Nothing, you hear me?!"
Chris couldn't understand where all this boy's anger was coming from... What had he done?
"You steer the innocent away from God and damn their souls! You think you're saving these people? Think about all the lives you took!" He stared long and hard at Chris before shaking his head, "They're gonna teach you... You better pray that somehow they manage to pull your black soul from the clutches of Lucifer because if they don't, I'll make sure I hand deliver you to the fallen angel himself." He spat at Chris again, this time the glob of saliva sunk into his shirt. The boy scurried back up stairs and soon Chris was surrounded by silence again.

~~

With a bit of make up, piercing removal/rearrangement, and Gothic platforms; there was no issue with making Mike Kuza look like Chris Motionless.
Exactly like Chris Motionless.
The darkness of the venues also gave them leverage but they made sure that the day Chris was arrested, they were to quickly disband any rumors and made sure everyone knew Chris was alright, bailed out, and just a tad bit ill. This had brought them enough time to fly Kuza to their current location and have him study up on their set list. He did ask some questions and the band was perfectly comfortable with answering them truthfully knowing that Chris had taken a close liking to Kuza.
He did have some concerns but their manager quickly silenced them and decided it was better off that they all focused on the show.
"Lemme hear that growl one more time." Ricky asked, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.
Kuza took a breath, "BLARGH!" Kuza's voice had a pitch different to Chris'. At times it was lower and at other times it was higher. He could carry a growl or a scream for a pretty long time.
"Remember the furrowed brow and frown." Angelo pointed out. Chris always put some amount of anger into his growling or screaming, it added more power. And emotion.

Kuza adjusted his eye shadow with a frown, "I don't know... I'm still uneasy about Chris man." He lent against the mirror and folded his arms across his chest.
"I can't stop thinking about where he is and what he must be going through..." Ryan pointed out
"Can we just NOT right now." Josh squeezed his temple and glared at the group, "I don't wanna be mopping around on stage."
"You're right." Kuza sighed.
"Guys! 20 minutes!" Venue Staff shouted at them sternly.
Their tour manager popped his head through the cracked open door of the dressing room, "Kuza! After the 3rd song, 5th song, and after the last song we have recordings of speeches Chris usually gives. I have the transcripts here," He held them out to them, "I want you to read over them and lip-sync like your life depends on it. I don't care if you have to hide behind the mic or take a few laps around Angelo but do it and make it fucking convincing."
Kuza would take the papers and begin to read over them but he was beginning to get nervous. I mean, he's joked around by pretending to be Chris during ONE song at ONE show but he's NEVER stood in for Chris Motionless for an ENTIRE set that included some inspirational speeches. They had already cut down fan interaction to Ricky, Ryan, and Josh but he still felt so overwhelmed.
"10 MINUTES!"

The boys got up, shaking off their jitters and stretching their tired limbs. Kuza continued to cram the transcripts into his memory, mumbling to himself and deciding that if anything: he'd hide amongst the shadows and by Angelo's drum set.

"5 MINUTES!"

They gathered themselves and exited the dressing room, single file. If this moment was being recorded for some kind of tour DVD, it would be black and white, slow motion, with the sound of either individual's heart pounding. But all for the wrong reasons. There wasn't any excitement or those good giddy nerves they'd usually get before playing. It was complete and total chaos nervousness of failing to even fool the crowd with their little stunt double.

By the end of the show,

The boys hollered on top of their lungs as they rushed back stage. Their mind clear of any worry and sadness but filled with excitement and glee! This tour was gonna happen and they were gonna get enough cash to support Chris' case.
Josh and Ryan rushed Kuza, tossing him up on their shoulders with the rest of the band quickly surrounding them along with the tour manager, regular security, and other friends,
"KUZA! KUZA! KUZA!" They chanted, fists pumping and adrenaline running.
Kuza shot his fists in the air, although he wasn't being himself, the effects of his first show were coursing through him. The crowd actually thought he was Chris Motionless and his vocals didn't cause ANY suspicions. Not even his speeches!
"Hold on I gotta take this!" Their tour manager chuckled with his own excitement and disbelief that they pulled the stunt off, he'd celebrate more but his phone has been ringing off the charts since the middle of the set.
"FUCK YEAH! WE DID IT!"
"WE TOTALLY WRECKED THAT SET!"
"HELL YEAH!"
The boys were rowdy, carrying Kuza all the way to the lounge where they ransacked the bar for beers to carry back to the dressing room. The majority of the tour just became a bit more easier for the boys and they couldn't wait to keep pushing forward to ensure the return of their real front man.

As they all piled into the dressing room with cheers, the smiles seemed to be smacked off their faces as their voices were dulled down and their eyes focused on the tour manager that sat on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands.
His face was pale.
"Greg, man, what's wrong?" Ryan spoke first, the mood in the room darkening.
The manager looked up at them with glossy eyes,
"Come on man! Say something!" Devin snapped, feeling the frustrations as his heart started to pound in his chest.

"Chris never made it to the precinct..."