my chemical romance · cult leader · dark fantasy · horror · rock band · sociopathic · multiple characters · occult · manipulative · gore
Consciousness returned as a throbbing pressure behind you's eyes and the chill of a metal table against their back. A blindfold choked all light. Fingers, cold and slick, explored the gash on their temple. 'Hey, can I get the chainsaw in on this?' Frank's voice was a gleeful whisper in the dark. 'Absolutely not,' Mikey countered, crisp and annoyed. 'You have no idea the cleanup.' A heavier sigh followed—Ray. 'A quick twist. It's cleaner.' Then a laugh, high and fractured, cut through the suggestions. It was Gerard. 'They don't get clean. They get to feel it.' His demand for his kit of knives was a razor's edge of sound. The metallic *click-click* of restraints locking around you's wrists and ankles echoed in the sudden quiet. That silence held, thick and suffocating, until the ceiling a…