(Author's Note: It's been a while since I last updated any one of my stories, and I really apologize for the delay. The House of Hades has NOT been cancelled. I'm still working on it. It will be out soon, in a few days if I'm lucky, or in a week at the most. Once again, I'm really really really really really really really really really really really really really…well you get the idea….sorry for the delay for House of Hades. Enjoy this story.)
WARNING: You might not enjoy this story if you're the sort of person who loooooves Christian and can't bear to see him in any situation where he's unhappy. If you're feeling neutral towards him, you'll need an open mind to enjoy this story. If you hate his guts, you'll love this story.
Where am I? Christian thought, as he opened his eyes.
He glanced around, and saw that he was in a small room, with large, manila envelope sized photographs of himself and his previous subs (and Ana) plastered on every inch of the wall, except for the area directly in front of him, which had a large flat-screen TV attached to the wall, and the area above the TV, which held a digital clock (that read 12:48). He could also feel something cold and hard around his wrists.
He looked up, and he saw metal shackles around his wrists, which were connected to chains that reached the upper corners of the wall he was leaning against. He also glanced down, and saw empty soda cans, empty bags of Cheetos, Doritos and Lays, candy bar wrappers and empty cans of Pringles all over the floor; most of them wear near his legs (which were in a standing position).
Christian glanced at one of the photos, of Leila slitting her wrists, then at another one of a sub pressing a handgun to her head lying in a pool of blood, then at another one of a sub passed out next to a bottle of alcohol, then at another one of him following Ana to her apartment, then at another one of him sneaking into Ana's apartment (to "fuck her into submission" after she sent him a joke email), then at another one of him bribing somebody for personal information, and lastly at a photo of him bribing a waiter to make Kate sick, so Ana would interview him instead.
What the…? How did anyone get these photos…he thought. Who got them?
Even though he had made a lot of enemies for the past twenty-eight years, he couldn't think of anyone who was crafty enough to get these photos. Christian was very careful when he did hid dirty work, he was awfully private too. Except for Ana, he never let anyone know about his subs.
So how did they get these photos? He screamed inside his head. When I work, I'm so careful! I always make sure that my steps were untraceable! When I stalk, I always make sure I'm undetectable, I always destroy any sort of evidence that could ruin my reputation, and I always pay my accomplices enough money, so they'd never snitch on me!
...Oh no! No! No! No!...Is it possible that I've slipped?...No!...That's impossible! I'm a genius! I'm too clever to leave behind clues like this!...No!...No! No! NO!
Sweat ran down his face, and he breathed heavily for a few moments before telling himself to calm down. He wasn't going to get anywhere if he panicked.
All right, Christian. Think. He thought. The person or people who took these photos… I'm willing to bet that they were connected to the guy who ambushed me!
Christian stepped out of his office building. As usual, it was a hard day at work, with him going over some companies he might buy, yelling at his 'incompetent' workers, going to business meetings, yelling at more people, hunting down personal information, going over to different departments and watching people as they worked, and yelling at more people. The only thing that made it a little better was emailing Ana on his personal computer. He had managed to make her agree to some after-work sex, which involved rope, blindfolds, a gun, a pocket knife, and a box of orange Popsicles.
He strolled through the parking lot and headed for his brand new silver Volvo, when he spotted a white van, parked a few yards away.
Hey! What's that thing doing there? Christian thought. I know everything about my employees, none of them has a car like that! And I know for a fact that nobody went car shopping recently! This is unauthorized parking!
He walked to the van, his anger growing with every step. How dare they do such a thing! Parking in his property! Without his permission! He was going to have a serious chat with the owner, assuming he was in the car of course.
When he got really close, the van doors slid open, and a figure in black (who was wearing a pig mask with long hair) jumped out. The shock caused Christian to freeze. Taking advantage of the element of surprise, the figure punched Christian in the jaw, causing him to fall over.
Christian landed on his side. The punch snapped him out of his shock. He looked up at the figure, but it was already too late. The only thing he saw was a blur as the figure raising his leg, and kicked him in the groin.
Christian's face contorted with pain. His eyes watered with tears. But before he could cry out, the figure took out a plastic syringe, and injected him with it.
He sighed. And now I'm here, in this shithole!...Well, one thing's for sure. I have to get out of these chains!
As if on cue, the TV turned itself on, and Christian could see a pale, white dummy wearing a suit with a red bowtie, red spirals painted on his face, wild black hair, red eyes, and red lips that formed a rather creepy grin.
The dummy then started to talk. "Hello, Christian Grey. Or as your sex slave likes to say 'hello, Fifty Shades.' You don't know me, but I certainly know you. I want to play a game.
"You're a rich, healthy young man with access to every luxury imaginable. You could be living the good life. Instead you choose to live a lie.
You prey on the kindness of others; you deliberately seek out naïve, inexperienced women to be your sex slaves, and you then manipulate them with your so-called 'looks' so they 'consent' to a three month 'relationship' where you physically and emotionally abuse them. Then you leave them when they're broken and battered. You ruin the lives of others, look at these photographs and you'll see what I mean.
After the three months are up, the cycle begins all over again, with you invading other people's privacy, breaking the law, and then you set up a situation where you meet your sex slaves. You use your looks to present yourself as a tortured man who could be cured with love, but it's all a lie. You're just luring vulnerable women into your trap with your appearance. And once they fall for it, you get to have some 'fun' with them. Said 'fun' involves a lot of misery for your slaves, but you get off to their pain. You're a sick man, Christian Grey. You might be 'attractive' on the outside, but on the inside, you're about as attractive as a dead squirrel in the middle of the road, with its insides hanging out, flies swarming around it, and bloody tire tracks across its body.
But it all changes today, Christian. Today, you have a chance to redeem yourself. You can see yourself who you truly are: a despicable, sick, sadistic 'human' being. Those shackles around your wrists are controlled by a timer. When it sets off, they'll explode, and you'll die from blood loss. The only way to escape from the shackles is to trigger a button underneath one of the discarded items around you. But if you do that, the ceiling will open, and acid will be dumped on you, dissolves the shackles, and scarring you forever. The only way to redeem yourself is to realize you're flawed in the first place, and the acid will bring your inner ugliness out into the open. It will match your face with the ugliness of your soul, and you'll see just how ugly you truly are. Only then, can you begin the path to redemption. So what will it be? Pain and scarring in exchange to turn your life around or refusing to see the truth and dying as an act of cowardice? Live or die, make your choice."
The dummy finished talking and the TV turned itself off. There was a beeping sound, and Christian could see the numbers on the digital clock changed from 12: 48 to 1:00, and they kept changing every second.
"AAAAAARRRGH!" he screamed in anger and frustration. How dare him! How dare that son of a bitch do this to me, the amazing Christian Grey!
He thrashed his arms around, causing the chains to rattle. "You bastard! You fucking bastard! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you! If I ever get out of here, I'll rip your eyeballs out and make you eat them! Fuck you, you fucking sadistic asshole!"
Speaking of getting out, Christian glanced at the timer, and without a second thought, he decided that he wanted to live, even if he had to go through a shitload of pain to do it. He looked up, and he saw a long, vertical crack on the ceiling.
No, that's no crack in the wall, he decided. Cracks are supposed to be edgy and all over the place, but that one's just a straight line. That's the thing that's gonna open up, and dump acid on me!
He quickly looked down again, and with his right leg, he kicked aside an empty Cheetos bag, but there was nothing underneath. He kicked aside another bag with his left leg, but he still got nothing. He kicked aside some more stuff, including a Lays bag, a Diet Coke can, a Mentos wrapper, and an M&Ms bag, but the results were still the same: nothing.
As the timer counted down, Christian kicked aside even more trash, but he could feel sweat running down his face, and he was starting to feel some doubt.
What if that dummy was lying? He thought. What if this trap is actually inescapable and he's just fucking with me? What if I'm doomed no matter what I do?
He forced those negative thoughts aside. Christian looked up, and saw that he had less than fifty seconds left. He continued to kick aside the garbage, hoping to find the one that could set him free, and while he did that he tried his best to keep his mind calm. Unfortunately for him, he still got nothing. The garbage that had been placed the closest to him, had all been kicked aside, and now he had to stretch a bit to get them.
That was exactly what he did. He ignored the discomfort in his body, as he stretched his right leg to kick aside a Starburst bag. He did the same with his left leg, and he managed to kick a Doritos bag, but as just like the previous times, he got nothing. Christian was getting desperate. He cried out with frustration.
Goddamn it! He thought. I'm never gonna make it out of here alive! I'm gonna die here! And…and then I'll lose everything! My money, my company….everything!...It's…it's not fair!
Christian glanced again at the timer. Right now, he had thirty…no, twenty-nine, no twenty-eight, twenty-seven….
He forced himself to tear his eyes away from the timer, if he stared at it for too long, he'd get so nervous that he wouldn't be able to think at all, and if that happened, he'd die when the counter reached zero.
Christian could see another item that he hadn't touched yet. It was a white Pringles can, and he knew he'd have to stretch himself again to reach it. Christian did that, he stretch his right leg further than he ever did. Pain shot up his leg, but he tried his best to ignore it. Even though his body wanted him to stop and end the pain, he continued to stretch, until he could feel his toe touching the Pringles can. He then kicked it aside, and once again, he ignored the pain that appeared in his leg when he did that.
To his delight, he could see a small round button sticking out about a quarter of an inch from the ground. Christian glanced at the timer (which read 0:18) one last time, and then he pressed the button.
The cracked ceiling slid out, just like the van doors, and a wave of acid fell onto Christian, landing on his head, shoulders, arms and wrists. But it didn't just stop there, once the acid landed, they flowed down to his chest and forehead.
"AAAAAAUUUUGGHHH!" he screamed, as the acid burnt his skin. The feeling of being burnt took him to one of his worst memories of his childhood, where his mother's pimp burnt him with cigarettes. But this was a thousand times worse. This was like being burnt by two hundred million cigarettes (that weren't fully put out yet) in every part of your body, all at once, with the cigarettes burning through your flesh, before getting to your insides, and burning them too.
"AAAAAAAAGH! AAAAAAAAHHHH! AAAAAAAAAHH!" Christian continued. He could feel the acid burning his face, neck, chest, and he could feel stinging as some of it went into his left eye. He wanted the pain to stop, and he would have done anything to make it end. Hell, he would've given up every penny in his bank account, if that would work.
But his skin wasn't the only thing that was being burnt. The acid burnt through his shackles as well, just as the timer counted down from ten seconds. Christian pulled his hands free, and even though the shackles were destroyed, he leapt away from them, as the timer reached zero.
It's over! He thought. It's all over! I made it! I'm…I'm…alive?!
He brought his hands close to his face, and he had to squint because one of his eyes had blurred vision, due to the acid. He could see holes in the sleeves of his designer suit, which exposed his damaged skin.
He then used his hands to feel his face. His once smooth skin was now very rough, and with every touch, he winced in pain. He didn't need a mirror to show him that his once handsome face was now scarred and burnt forever, and then there was his left eye…
Christian sank to his knees, and he did something he hadn't done for years. He started to cry in despair. The tears that didn't come when he was kicked in the nuts came now. They streamed down his face, mixing with the acid. He cried long and hard, no longer caring for his belief that a grown man should never cry.
Christian wished none of this had happened. He wished he was never kidnapped by the figure with the pig mask in the first place. Of course, wishing for it wouldn't make it so, and he Christian cried harder than ever when he realized that he would have to spend the rest of his life dealing with this. He didn't know how much time had passed while he cried, but when he was finished, he heard a faint clicking sound.
Some of the photos on the left wall of the room ripped in half, and Christian realized a sliding door (which must've been invisible underneath all those photos) had opened. He could see a ringing sound (like bells) getting closer and closer.
Someone's coming!
A few seconds later, a red tricycle came into view, and the thing riding the tricycle was the same dummy he saw on the TV.
"Congratulations," the dummy said. "You pass. Now you can begin the road to redemption. And with redemption, you'll be able to live without ruining the lives of others…speaking of living, most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you, Christian. Not anymore."
Christian of course did not know this, but there were tiny, hidden cameras in the room, watching his every move, and everything the cameras recorded was being viewed live by Dr. Lawrence Gordon and his new assistant, a woman with long, wavy brown hair shaved on one side, making her look kind of like a female Skrillex.
"Do you think he learned his lesson," she asked, not taking her intense brown eyes off the computer screen. "I mean, he's an asshole; an egotistical, narcissistic asshole, who thinks he's the greatest thing to exist in the history of the universe. Do you really think a guy like that can learn his lesson?...Wouldn't it be easier to just kill him?"
Dr. Gordon turned to his assistant, who was denim shorts, a tank top, and platform wedge sandals, which exposed the scars on her arms, legs, shoulder, neck and face. "That's not what John would've wanted," he answered. "I know how you feel, Leila. This guy was a demon of your past, he made your life a living hell, he broke you, then he tossed you aside forever. You were living an empty life, until I rehabilitated you. Now I have to do the same to him, even though I hate him just as much as you do. I'm not a killer, Leila. I want them to see the error of the own ways, I want them to survive and become better people. That was what John trained me for, and I'm going to carry out his legacy the exact way he wanted me to."
Unlike Hoffman and Amanda, he added silently.
"However, if (theoretically speaking) he doesn't learn his lesson, he'll have to repeat it, until he does or dies in the attempt to do so."
Leila paused for a moment, as she remembered her own rehabilitation, which involved a cage full of razor wire, a timer, and the basement in which she'd be trapped in, if she didn't complete her test in time.
"All right, Dr. Gordon…let's let time tell us the results, shall we?"
So….yeah. I got the idea to write this after I read 50 Shades of Grey. I hated everything about the books, I hated the bad writing, I hated the Porn Without Plot, I hated Anastasia 'Dumbass' Steel, I hated the fact that this piece of shit managed to get published, I hate the fact that this is just fanfiction with the serial numbers filed off, and I hate Christian Grey (aka the biggest asshole in 'romantic' fiction, he also shares that title with Patch from Hush Hush by the way). I hate the fact that their 'relationship' is being presented as 'omfg the most epic luv story eva!11' What they have is not love. Christian is a controlling, abusive, stalker-rapist who belongs in a prison cell. He does not love Ana, he only likes to fuck and beat her. He knows that she's an idiotic, naïve, braindead entity that he can easily manipulate, and he likes the fact that she can't see through him, like Kate. All they do is fuck. There's no friendship or trust between them. Hellspawn (that's Christian by the way) wants to control her every move, he always tells Dumbass that 'she belongs to him,' he doesn't trust her when she's not with him, he gets extremely jealous, and he 'smiles that stupid crooked smile' and buys her expensive gifts to keep her interested. Oh, and he has all of her personal information, he stalks her, threatens her, rapes her, and he never tells her what BDSM actually is, so no…it's not safe, sane and consensual. His obsession with her is more like Gollum's obsession with the One Ring.
Dumbass on the other hand, is the biggest idiot on the planet. She's a pretentious little twat, who refuses to read anything that isn't a 'classic' (even though she's an English major), she's never even touched a computer before (despite living in the 21st century as a college student, who's going to need access to the Internet for research, lecture notes, and email), and she knows absolutely nothing about sex. She's easily 'dazzled' by Hellspawn, she's fooled by Hellspawn when he tries to convince her that 'he's just an emotionally damaged man who's not really evil, he's just been through a lot of shit, but he can be fixed with love.' That's why Hellspawn 'likes' her, he can easily manipulate her.
Now back to Hellspawn. I've reached a conclusion that Christian Grey is a psychopath. He's handsome, charming, manipulative, egotistical, controlling cold…he doesn't care for anyone apart from himself, he has no sense of empathy, he's a liar, he can make people believe that he's a guy who went through hard times, but on the inside, he's more like a serial killer. Oh, and he's super rich, so if he's caught, he can just hire himself a good lawyer to talk the judge out of giving him a life sentence. So in no time at all, he'd be free, and he'd be able to search for new victims. Seriously I can picture him living his day-life as a CEO, but living his night-life as a murderer…
Oh my god…Christian Grey is Patrick Bateman! Seriously…compare the two, and you'll reach the same conclusion.
Well, I'm finished here. Gotta go work on the House of Hades now.
PLEASE NOTE: DR. GORDON AND THE DUMMY ARE NOT MY CREATIONS, THEY BELONG TO JAMES WAN AND LEIGH WHANNELL, THE CREATORS OF SAW, THE CHARACTERS OF FSOG ARE OWNED BY E.L. JAMES (AND POSSIBLY STEPHENIE MEYER AS WELL), I DID NOT COME UP WITH THE NAME 'HELLSPAWN' FOR CHRISTIAN, THREE GENIUSES ON LIVEJOURNAL DID, SO THEY GET THE CREDIT. IT'S PRETTY OBVIOUS THAT I OWN NOTHING.