FicWad

After a few more empty rooms, Gerard was incredibly pissed off to the point that he wanted to punch the bastard’s head in – and he’s pretty anti-violence. They were nearing the end of the hall and Gerard was nearing the end of his allotted time to locate the remainder of his band. Frank was fading in and out of consciousness, opening his eyes and slowly blinking a few times in a lost way before drifting away again. And while he didn’t say anything, Gerard could see the pain and exhaustion written all over Ray’s face each time he glanced back to check up on them.

With just under an hour to go and Bob and Mikey to find, Gerard was ready to start ripping the place apart with his hands. But he knew he was being watched and if he stepped out of line, he’d be shocked to death. What good would he be to the others then?

So, begrudgingly, Gerard clenched his hands into fists, kept quiet and kept going.

“Gerard,” Ray sighed from behind and Gerard spun around with a bit of a startle. It’d been a while since they had spoken that the mere sound of his friend’s voice made him jump. “I’m sorry, but I have to stop,” Ray frowned with the most sincere expression. “My arms are stiff, and-“

“It’s fine,” Gerard cut him off with a small shake of his head. He’d wondered how long it would be before Ray couldn’t take it anymore. It was only natural that in his condition he’d need rest eventually. “You don’t have to keep looking with me. We’re almost at the end of the hall anyway.” He ran the palm of his right hand along the side of his head. “I’m the one that has to do this anyway. You rest.”

“It’s just – Frank’s small, but the dude’s kind of heavy after a while.” Gerard gave a tiny smile. “I don’t want to leave him alone in the hall, either. Not when…” he trailed off and Gerard followed perfectly.

“Sit and rest,” he told the other man. “I won’t be long. And I’ll be within yelling distance if you need me.” Ray’s eyes were regretful, but Gerard could tell that his body was purely grateful as he assisted him with lowering himself and Frank to the dirty ground. Ray sat against the wall, crossing his legs loosely and lying Frank down behind him with his head on Ray's leg.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Gerard instructed. “And regardless of what you might hear, or what happens, stay put.” He started walking backwards away from them to finish his search. “Worry about yourself and Frank first. Watch over him, please.”

This time Ray gave his own little smile. “Have for years. This,” he waved a hand quickly, “isn’t going to change that.” Gerard nodded and spun around once more to check the handful of rooms remaining in the hallway before his only option would be to head in what he assumed was a basement.

He continued to find nothing but abandoned furniture and rotting walls the further down the hall he moved until he came upon the very end. Gerard threw open the last door on the right to be faced with the sickening darkness that made his skin crawl with an eerie and fearful feeling. This was it, he knew it in his gut, and hesitated only a moment before attempting to locate the light switch and see who he’d found this time.

At this point in the game, Gerard expected the worse. Though it didn’t stop him from shivering and adverting his eyes the moment the bright lights burst on. He had found Bob – suspended from the ceiling by a series of thick metal chains; one around each arm, one around his ankles, and one locked around his neck. Gerard closed the door to the room, remembering Ray was not too far away in the hall and he didn’t want him to come across this like he had. A little pool of fairly dried blood had collected beneath Bob which, from Gerard’s observations as he stepped into the room, looked like it had come from the man above him.

Bob was covered in a decent amount of blood and bruises that, from Gerard’s readings in free time, he recognized as defensive wounds. Of course Bob would have fought their attacker. He was a scary motherfucker – when he wanted to be.

As before, Gerard found a note on a small table sitting in front of four boxes sticking out from the wall. They were clear and, at closer observation, set back into the wall with each leading to a small red button. Each box’s opening was lined with a series of pointed blades that would be harmless when entering but would do a number when coming out. It was very much like a porcupine.

The heavy and unpleasant feeling settled in Gerard’s stomach again because he could already feel the outcome of this ‘challenge’, but knew he couldn’t leave Bob hanging there to die. If they were going to die, they were going to die together. What’s a few cuts and bit of blood over brothers?

Sighing, Gerard snatched the note and flipped it open, looking momentarily at the clock on the wall before reading. 42 minutes.

Bisque, or porcelain, dolls go back many years. Fragile and fair skinned, one of their most noticeable features is their stunning eyes. Well, at least this kind of made sense to Gerard. In a disturbing way. But everyone knew and loved Bob’s bright blue eyes. They were hard to miss when you looked at the man.

Just like the bisque doll, the art of hanging has been around for a long time. Before you are a series of boxes containing red buttons. Those buttons are the key to your friend’s survival. You only have two chances to save him. Three wrong choices and he hangs.

Think carefully, choose wisely, and decide if the pain is worth your friend’s life.

Tick tock, tick tock.

In Gerard’s opinion, this was entirely unfair. Not that any of it really wasn’t . But Gerard was at a huge disadvantage this time because it was a life-or-death situation. Three fuck-ups and he’s murdered Bob, just like that. He had a 25% chance of getting the drummer out alive, and a 75% chance of killing him.

The only advantage Bob had over the other two was that physically, he had the least trauma. A couple bruises and cuts that might cause a few small scars after a couple of days. He also had the benefit of being out of it and unable to witness his own state of peril. For this Gerard was thankful as he stepped near the boxes, because silent-Bob meant no freaking out and no extra stress on Gerard.

Pain was inevitable, Gerard knew. Just looking at the boxes and thinking back to his experiences thus far, he knew it wasn’t as simple as it appeared. And while Gerard had smaller arms than other people, there was no escaping the blades around the edges.

He took a deep breath and approached the box closest, cracking his knuckles before slowly pushing his arm into the small space. The metal that brushed against him sent shivers through his body, better than those the shock collar gave, and for a moment Gerard’s mind relaxed as he stretched his arm towards the red button.

Gerard’s hand momentarily froze above the shiny button but he overcame himself and forced it down, grimacing when he heard the release of a chain behind him. The metal fell quickly to the ground with an echoing crash followed by that same cynically amused laughter that’d been haunting him the past hour and a half.

He was startled though when a hot liquid started seeping into the container his arm was in – instantly steaming the glass sides and clouding his vision. He could feel the warmth on his skin and tried to tug his arm out but he met too much resistance as the bladed-border locked around him. Gerard continued to tug, desperate to get free, only managing to dislocate his shoulder with a loud popping sound that generated a yelp of pain from the man.

It got worse when the container filled enough to leave Gerard’s arm nowhere else to go. He couldn’t help but cry out loudly as he was burned by what felt like wax from his elbow to fingertips until the sting was so sharp his entire arm went numb.

Once his arm was emerged in the fiery wax, the cuff immobilizing him loosened enough to allow Gerard to easily slide his arm out. The blades sliced cleanly through the quick-drying wax on the way out so that most of it was removed from his skin in the end. His arm was bright red and thrumming with pain – shoulder momentarily forgotten as he dropped down to his knees.

Overhead, Bob dangled by the chains around his wrists and neck now with his body gently swaying from the drop of the chain still locked around his ankles. His moving body dragged the tip of the chain back and forth a few inches on the ground, generating a scraping noise barely audible over Gerard’s own soft sobs.

“Gerard?” Ray’s hesitant voice came through the door. “What’s-“

“Don’t!” Gerard yelled out. “Don’t come in.”

“Gerard,” Gerard ignored him and the door opened anyway. “I heard-“ he stopped when his eyes came across what had been lurking behind the door Gerard had shut for good reason earlier.

“Get out,” Gerard practically whispered, using his unburned hand to wipe away tears. Ray continued to ignore him, going to Gerard once he was able to pull his eyes off Bob’s hanging form and getting on the ground beside him.

“This is bad,” Ray quietly said, hand going towards Gerard’s arm but stopping before he made physical contact. Ray’s hand hovered along Gerard’s arm up towards his shoulder where he frowned more. “Your shoulder is…” he trailed off. “Um…I can set it back, but it’s going to hurt,” he said. “I mean, I know it hurt when it…”

“You need to get out,” Gerard repeated.

Instead of leaving though, Ray gently placed his hands on either side of Gerard’s shoulder and muttered, “Just-“ before putting a lot of pressure on the front and, with a jerk and shout from Gerard, forced the bone back to where it was supposed to be, relieving a deal of pressure and pain from Gerard.

“I don’t like when my dolls are tampered with,” the voice overhead rang out, followed by Gerard’s body involuntarily jerking as a jolt from the collar sparked through his muscles, sending him into Ray. “There are rules for a reason, Gerard. You can’t just break them because you got a boo-boo.”

“What the fuck?” Ray caught Gerard, the other man’s face wound tight with his hands flying towards the collar. “I reset his shoulder and you shock him? It’s not like I was helping with that!” Ray threw one arm towards Bob.

“My game, my rules,” the voice answered simply. “And I don’t like mouthy dolls either, Mr. Toro.” Gerard jerked again as another shock was administered.

“Stop,” he croaked. “Please, just stop.” He was breathing rapidly and struggled to sit up, Ray guiding him until Gerard pulled away. “Leave, Ray. I’m fine.”

“But-“

“Leave!” Gerard all but shouted, throat raw and aching. It was like he was suffocating, on the verge of an anxiety attack, and he wanted it all over. If Ray was why he was getting shocked, well.

Ray stared dumbfounded but put his hands up and silently rose, walking away without so much as a glance back at Gerard, pulling the door behind him.

“You’re sexy when you’re demanding,” the voice purred.

“Fuck you,” Gerard growled in response and instantly regretted it when his throat protested. “I’ve got a game to finish,” he mumbled, forcing his trembling body up onto wobbly legs.

“I’ll forgive this little situation and set the clock back a few minutes,” he was told. “I hope you don’t disappoint me.” And just like that, Gerard could tell he was alone again.

Despite his instinct not to, Gerard stumbled back towards the boxes, injured arm held level with his waist where it was when in the box because it was the position of least pain. Three boxes remained, two chances to save Bob.

Gerard tried to think logically and skipped the next box inline to end up at the third instead. He should have known the first would be wrong. It’s rarely an end box. Certainly not the first, and hardly the second. So Gerard was going to try the third.

Gerard knew the outcome of his failure too. And though he didn’t want to get burned more, he also didn’t want to risk his other arm. With some resistance and lip bit tight in pain, Gerard eased his arm back into the enclosed space towards the next button.

This time Gerard hardly blinked before letting his hand drop down. The metal of the opening locked around his arm and he heard another chain release, flying into the one already dangling, and closed his eyes.

Fuck. Wrong again.

As the wax started pouring in, Gerard buried his face in his arm, biting his own flesh and waiting for the cuff to release. The burn came all over again and Gerard whined into himself, having to lean against the hot box as his legs gave out. It seemed to last twice as long before the cuff was loosened and he could get free.

His arm looked even worse – skin not only red but splitting open in a bloody mess with blackened edges. It was disgusting and sickening and he knew it was the worst kind of burn to get. Gerard learned all about burns the same time they learned that having open flames around while playing was a bad idea.

Gerard was tired. There were two boxes remaining and only one chance to keep Bob alive. He could hardly move his burned arm, the skin not only fried but a number of the nerves shot as well, forcing Gerard to use his other arm for his last box.

He braced himself in anticipation, taking a deep breath and exhaling a sincere “Forgive me,” then slammed his hand down. His heart was racing and his body sweating, waiting for the pain. But instead of hearing the third chain freely swing into the others, Gerard heard louder clanking that, when he looked, revealed the two chains holding Bob up extending to lower him slowly to the ground.

“Fuck,” Gerard sighed heavily. “God, fuck, thank you.” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to live with himself if he killed Bob.

Carefully, Gerard got his arm free with only a few small cuts and made his way to Bob whose feet were still hovering an inch or two above the ground. He hung at a slanted angle that would make Gerard laugh if he still possessed the ability to do so and the situation wasn’t as hellish as it actually was.

A small silver key hung by a frayed cord around Bob’s neck beneath the thick cuff. With one strong tug Gerard broke the cord and somehow managed to get his brain to convince his hand to stop shaking enough to get it into the small holes to release Bob. He fell with a pretty solid ‘thud’ to the ground, half on top of the chains, jolting awake a moment later.

“What;” he grumbled, brow knit and sitting up.

“Here,” Gerard said weakly, handing over the small key. “Undo those,” he pointed to cuffs around Bob’s wrist and ankles, “and get up. We have to go.”

Bob accepted the key and looked at himself. “Um, Gerard, the fuck’s going on?”

“No time to explain,” the older man answered, already leaving. He didn’t have time to check if Bob was okay. He was alive, awake, and seemed coherent. Gerard was beyond pissed, more than exhausted, and in enough pain to rival a woman in labor. He still had to find Mikey and had roughly a half hour to do so. A half hour to not only find Mikey, but to find a way out of this house.

Letting his burned arm dangle limply by his side, Gerard headed towards Ray who had resumed his seat on the ground with Frank lying still beside him. “We have to go,” he said in passing, eyes flicking to Frank briefly. Gerard was certain he was going to die before they got out, if he was even still alive, but there was no way he was going to leave Frank to rot there either.

“Gerard, stop, you-“

“Need to find my brother,” Gerard finished for Ray and kept walking. Bob emerged from his room and, rubbing his neck and wrists, approached Ray with a mix of confusion and shock. Ray just shook his head, motioning for Bob to assist him in moving Frank, the pair following after Gerard with Frank’s body held up between them.

They stopped before the old door by the stairs, waiting in silence until Gerard kicked it open with impressive force mimicking that of dramatic cop shows. Another stairwell sat before them, leading down to a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling and swaying in front of another door at the bottom. “Stairwell to hell,” Gerard mumbled before grabbing the railing and starting down.

Gerard held hope, but not much, and he couldn’t afford to lose what he had.