A/N: Hahahaha a chapter fic? Why yes it is. This fic will have either two or three parts, depending on how I feel. Here's part one, it's literally just Charlie getting beat the fuck up. But tbh, who doesn't love a bit of mindless violence in their life? As per usual, please leave a comment if you like, I love to read them! I'm sorry that this isn't one hundred percent medically accurate, any comments questions or concerns, feel free to contact me!
He was doomed and he knew it. There was no way for him to get past Tyneman bloody thugs. Three of them, one of him. But that didn't mean he couldn't try, of course. When he was sixteen, he could knock down a man twice his height if he wanted. When he was eighteen, he won more fights then he lost. But he wasn't that kid anymore. He was Charlie Davis, who gave up on picking fights to become a police man and support his mum. Charlie Davis, who could outrun any criminal who got in his way. Charlie Davis, who was going to become the youngest police superintendent that the force ever knew. He stood a little taller, and then clenched and uncleched his left hand. "I'll go then, shall I?' he asked, seeing no way out of his current predicament.
"I think that would be best." Edward replied. Charlie walked past one of his friends, while the other blocked his path. Before he could do anything, the one with the ugly diamond jumper grabbed his head from behind, and put his face through the glass window.
He isn't awake for much longer after that.
When he wakes up, he's shocked to find he care barely move. His hands have been bound in front of him by a tie, and he can guess the same thing has happened to his ankles. He blinks slowly, and looks up, only to discover that he's been gagged as well. He tries to talk but it comes out broken and slurred. "Boys! He's awake." An amused voice above him comments. It's Tyneman. He's sitting on a barstool and looking at Charlie's wallet. He tries to move but his attempt it stopped by diamond jumper, who's white jumper is now stained with blood, his blood. "Charles Davis." he said, looking at Charlie's drivers license. "You're twenty five years old. Fascinating. Here boys, have a look at his photo." Edward jeers, showing the admittedly awful photo of him. Some chuckle. Vincent looks ill.
In his defense, he had virtually dragged himself off his deathbed when that photo was taken. He'd been so ill at the time he could barely hold himself up right.
"Also looks like some cards in here. One for...Lucien Blake. Matthew Lawson. A boarding house. Hm. I'm not sure you're who you say you are..." He said, and opened the inside pannel. "Ahh! A family photo. How lovely." The photo was taken about a year ago, and had Charlie, his mother and two younger brothers in it." Looks like Charles here's the man of the house." He commented. Charlie wanted to punch his face in. If he had a shilling for every time he'd heard that in his life then he'd probably be able to pay off all his debts. "Doesn't look like your father is really in the picture.' He smiled. Charlie can see the rest of the contents of his pockets up on the counter. His keyring. (House keys for Melbourne, key to his mums car. Key to the police car he normally drove. Key to his desk. Key to his room in the boarding house.) As well as about five quid and a button that he needed to get put back on his police jacket.
"My entertainment might have fallen though, but then, you were dropped right in my lap, Charles." Edward commented, standing and pacing around the downed constable on the floor. "And I wonder, what will we do?" He asked, "I think that the...Man of the night should start us off." He smiled, and Charlie's eyes drift up to Vincent. Diamond shirt is still sitting on him, he can't get away.
"I think I'm alright.' Vincent said, looking distinctly away from Charlie.
"No, no. You have to.' Edward smiled, and passes the man what looks like the leg from a barstool. "Aim for the leg." He offers. Vincent looks to be blinking back tears, and Charlie silently forgives the man. He knows this feeling. He's been in those shoes. Doesn't make the sound of his own leg breaking any easier to hear. Mercifully, Vincent didn't aim for the knee. That would have crippled him. His life would be over. His career would be over. He did aim for the lower leg. It took him almost six goes of heaving and yelling to break the bone.
It's agony at first, but after that, he has no feeling in his leg. Diamond Shirt starts to smoke. Edward watches passively. Charlie has started to pant, from struggling to get enough air past the makeshift gag in his mouth. Diamond shirt shoots Edward a look. He nods, and the man kneels, grabbing Charlie by the chin and breathing smoke right into his face and into his mouth and nose. Like most people smoking for the first time, he chokes on it, and his body is overcome by choking coughs. He does it again and again. Vincent has to look away as Charlie hacks and hacks until he's sick. Edward raised his eyebrows, and smiles. "When you're done...Put it out." He smiled. Diamond shirt nods, and puts it out under Charlie's left eye. Charlie screams into his gag.
"I think he's had enough." Vincent stammers, looking much more sober then he had an hour ago. "Let him go, I'll take him to emergency." he said. Edward looks at him sideways and Charlie wants to crack his skull.
"He's my entertainment, is he not?" Edward asks, "I'll decide when he's had enough." He sneers, "Pass me the leg." Charlie wonders what's next. Edward stands, and smiled at Charlie, who had curled up onto his side in attempt to defend his stomach from injury. He tried to pull his head in close as well. Edward smirks at him, and nods at diamond shirt to grab Charlie by the neck so he couldn't pull himself up. He lines the shot up with where he expects Charlie's navel to be, and then brings the stick up, aiming it like a golf club. He drives it hard into his delicate organs. He pulls back. He hits again And again. And again. A total of six times. Charlie's body tries to expel whatever the contents of his stomach is, but he can't get it past the gag. He realizes that he's going to choke to death.
Vincent leans down to loosen it. Edward finally stops to look at him. "Well you don't want him to die, do you?" He shoots, as Charlie chokes and splutters and tried to get his body under control.
"Not yet, I suppose." Edward commented, taking another swing at Charlie's stomach before stepping back to look at him again. He let out a soft sigh, and took a seat. Charlie tries to regain control of his poor body, but really can't. Why are they doing this to him? He wonders, gazing up at Vincent. For some reason, the 'Buck' was on his side. Or maybe he was just a decent human being who didn't like seeing someone else being beaten.
He didn't really know for sure. He's not sure he wan't to know, either.
Diamond jumper sighs and puts his second smoke out on Charlie's left shoulder. Charlie screams again. It burns. He arches his back. He twists his hands. Edward nods, and the brown vest takes off the gag. "What the Hell are you doing?!" He shouts, as soon as it's out of his mouth. "Let me go!" He shouts. The music from next door stops, and all the men look at one another.
"Take him to the back room." Edward tells brown vest and diamond jumper. They both nod and drag Charlie into the back room, and re gag him.
He opens the door, revealing Mattie standing there with Amelia.
"Is everything...Okay?" She asks, she looks around. There's a small puddle on the floor towards the center of the room.
"Of course." Edward replies, with false cheeriness. "One of the ah, barstools broke..And was a little too much for our friends stomach...What was his name..Charles? He's gone home now, so don't worry." Mattie nods. She can't imagine Charlie getting drunk. She can't imagine him leaving without his keys and wallet. It's suspicious to her, his being here altogether was. She can see a broken door to the back room, and some men bent over something. She makes a choice then and there to call Lawson. Something was terribly wrong with Charlie. She could feel it.
"I can take those for him, if you like?" She offered, pointing at his keys and wallet. "He's due in at the hospital tomorrow for some injections." She lies. Edward shrugs, and hands them over to her.
"Thanks."She said, and turned around, leading Amelia away.
The room with the projector is small. People are on him from all angles. Someone kicks his broken leg and he screams He screams louder and louder until Edward kicks him in the stomach to shut him up. He groans softly but takes the hint. He stops talking.
He heard her. He heard O'Brian. He tried to make enough noise she would hear him. She didn't. He was suddenly certain that he was going to die here.
As if he can sense Charlie's thoughts, Edward lowered himself down, and takes his hands, lifting them up. Charlie tries to make claws with his fingers, lash out at him. "Doesn't look like this cat's had his claws done." Edward commented, grabbing the tip of one of Charlie's fingers, and then bending it back. Charlie tried to fight back against him, to no avail. Edward bends his finger so far back that it breaks. Charlie screams. He cries. Edward breaks all the fingers on Charlie's left hand, one at a time. He relizes that there's not hope for him after this. He has no future as a police man. No job. No way to pay his debts. He'd die here or he'd died out there.
He stops struggling after that. His fingers ache, every small movement, even breathing hurts him. He wonders if it will ever end. Surely they can't go on forever. It won't, but one night feels longer when there's no way to tell the time.
It all goes rather downhill, when Edward takes his pocket knife, and decides to wedge the small blade up under the fingernails on his good hand until they crack. He has begun to cry. He can feel the wetness on his face. He hadn't noticed until then.
Edward stops and wipes the tears away. "Oh no. Seems that he's sprung a leak, boys. Does he still float?" If he'd been in less pain, Charlie would probably have heard the sinister note in his voice, but as it is, he really doesn't. And he really doesn't care much either. He just wants to drift away from it all. Leave his body here and go find a calm place to stay. He feels like he's watching his own body on the floor, as it takes a beating, and he's rather away from it, watching on like a ghost.
"Do you think he'll still float?" Edward asked, cheerfully. Again, it's like he's reading Charlie's mind and that scares him. It scares him so much. He breathes heavily. Diamond jumper leaves. Edward lines his barstool up with Charlie's head. Charlie cries harder, suddenly pulled back down to earth.
Diamond jumper returns with a tray of glasses of water, as well as one glass of beer. Charlie wonders if all of this was planned. He wants to go home. Brown vest grabs him by the hair and tilts his head back. He chokes slightly. Edward offers the up to Vincent. He still looks so pale. Charlie wishes he had it in him to feel bad for the guy. He pours it onto Charlie, as Diamond jumper blocks his nose and it's suddenly everywhere.
In his nose, his mouth, his eyes, he can't breathe, he can't see, and it wont stop. Someone cheers for him to keep going. Edward sips the beer cheerfully. Charlie wishes, somewhat, that he was dead. Anything would be better then this.
He's starting to lose his vision, the edges tinged black by the time it stops. Brown vest pinches his nose while he tries to breathe though the gag. He chokes and cries and his body convulses. His lungs bg for air. His 'good' hand clenches and unclenches. And suddenly, he feels a searing pain in his left temple, and the whole world goes a little fuzzy.
Again.
And again
And then it stops, and he can hear someone calling his name.
The whole world is fuzzy, people are shouting. A face comes into view, then, a police man, he's wearing a hat. There's no future left for him in the police force, not now. He blearily tries to make the figure out, but can't quite. He realizes, slowly, that he must have a skull fracture or something. Or a concussion. Can you die from concussion, he wonders, starring up into his saviours face. The distant shouting becomes louder, and louder.
"Stay with me, Davis!" The voice above him says, as the world fades in and out, "Stay with me, come on!' It's funny. He must be dying, because that voice...It sounded a lot like Lawson.
