Title:  Breaking of the Alpha
Pairing:  Random rapists/Church
Rating:  For now, I guess... PG-13/R
Summery:  In order to split the Alpha, certain steps needed to be taken.
Note:  Nothing really heavy for now, well, in my opinion.  To be honest, I'm not that happy with the way it worked out, but it's good enough.  My friend said she liked it, and she's like, my writing hero.




He had no idea who these men were and why this was happening to him.  They had come in the night, like many a cliché would start, only there was nothing cliché about what they did to him...
 

When people talk about rape, they never really warn men about it.  Tell your cute little girl to say away from strangers, but that young lad will be just fine by time he reaches maturity.  So, as a man, Church never really considered the possibility of being kidnapped and raped.  Men were the rapist, not the victim.  Men weren’t supposed to be weak and easily violated, and yet here he was, in what appeared to be a basement.  He was far too focused on the current situation to really have a good look around, and it was much too dark to really see that far in front of one's face.  He could only make out the outline of his captors in the musty gloom.

Being who he was, he responded with the phrase that came out of his mouth the most.  “Fuck you,” he had said, the venom dripping from his voice.

“I think someone needs to teach you some manners, boy.” was what the same man had said.  He had a voice that was deep and gruff, sounding like it had years of abuse from cigarettes and cheep booze.  With him were two other men that busied themselves by holding Church down, one forcing his arms still behind his head, and the other kneeling on his legs.  The first man, the one who seemed to be in charge, pulled something out of his coat pocket.  “You ever been electrocuted before, boy?” 

Church simply spat at him.  Up until that point, he had never, in fact, been electrocuted.  Apparently the man brought with him a stun gun, because the boss who had been previously standing knelt down and brought out of his pocket a black object with two short, thin prongs on either side.  He brought it down to Church’s neck and turned it on.  Immediately his body was wracked with pain and he began to seize.  It was the single most painful moment in his life, worse even than the fistfights he had ever been in with Allison.  After what seemed like forever, it stopped.  For a moment, he just laid there, panting and watching the spots that danced in his vision, the smell of his own burnt flesh rising to his nose.  In his laps of activity, the boss lifted up his shirt and pressed it again to his stomach, and again he was sent into another charged fit. 

Vaguely, he heard laughter behind his ringing ears, and words: “Not enjoying this very much, are ya boy?” 

However, this seemed to incite their intended victim.  “You…” he had to stop after that, panting to catch his breath, “wish,” he finished. 

That, like so many other things, seemed to make them laugh.  The boss stood up again and put his foot on his neck, just barley apply pressure.  “Your pride boy, or your life.”  It was the first mirthless thing that he had said all night.  Church had always had an ego problem; he had always had a lot of pride.   But if he had to choose between the two things, the basic human drive to continue, no matter what, won out.  A look of hatred contorted his facial features, but he completely relaxed his body.  “That’s good.” (Who says "That's good" here, Church or the boss?)

The lead man pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, and in one flick, it was lit.  He inhaled the tobacco, blowing out a musty cloud, and the dingy smell of smoke filled the air.  “I knew you weren’t stupid, boy.”  He took another drag and the cigarette, exhaled, and extinguished it on Church’s arm.  Church cried out in pain, jerking as smoldering paper and tobacco ate at his flesh. 

Breathing heavily from the unnecessary pain that had just been inflicted, Church heaved out, “What’s it matter?” 

The boss chuckled and said, “It don’t, just thought you might be sick of being called ‘boy’ all the damn time.”

“What I’m tired of,” he replied, “is all of this shit.”

“I know others who would slap your smart mouth, but I’ve sort of gotten used to it.  You see, most people just cry by now, but you keep talking.  I respect that.”

“Do you respect it enough to stop?”

The boss laughed at that, a sound that Church now knew he hated more than anything.

“Aint he just the cutest thing, men?”  The other captors laughed in the gloom and Church felt their hands pawing at him.  “Alright, I think we’ve wasted enough time already.  I do believe it is time to get to main event.”

So this is a long time coming on my part.  I decided what really needed to be addressed was what sort of horrible things did they do to our beloved Alpha?  What made him split?  I took a little psyche before, so I know just a bit about dissociative identity disorder, or split personalities.  A lot of them stem from sexual abuse.  And I’m a pervert. Put the two together, and you have this.  But don’t get all excited yet.  There are other things that are going to happen, bad thing.  Oh, and as a side note, listening to the new Trocadero CD, and the song that’s at the end of Reconstruction is what finally made me write this.  It makes me cry.  Also, no matter what anyone says, Epsilon is not the Church I know and love.  I’m sorry.  Oh, and what the fuck is the plural of AI?  Excuse my ignorance if I got it wrong.

The Director had gone over cases in which psychological torture had been used, and had picked out what he thought would work the fastest.  It was horrible, and if it were not truly necessary, he would never have resorted to it.  But the lives of and entire race were at stake now, and with the world counting on him, he had no other choice.  He ordered that the scenarios be installed and left to play out.  No matter what.