Because I have writer's block for my other Condemned Story and I've been wanting to do this for a long time. Not a lot is known about this character as far as I can gather (not even his first name) so I felt like giving him a history. :) Of course, I own nothing except the two OC's that will appear in later chapters. The rating stands due to later chapters. Better safe then sorry. Hope you guys enjoy! Please read and review!

Nothing had meaning anymore. Ever since that day…nothing mattered. His life as he knew it was over, and he had been the very one to end it.

Special Agent Charles Dorland of the SCU could barely look at his reflection in the mirror anymore, and when he did, he wanted to vomit. It never ceased to amaze him how one man could hate himself so utterly, but he did. He was disgusted by what he saw, repulsed in every way. How could he be such a coward?

It was ten years to the day…The day he did the most loathsome thing any one man could do.

Unable to stand the sight of the tired, ragged man staring back at him any longer, he turned from the mirror and walked over to the window. It was pouring down rain. The streets of Metro gushed with water as the excess rushed for the storm drains.

He laughed bitterly at the memory that now played in his head. "It was raining on that night too," he thought.

He glanced at his watch and then at the bottle of cheap booze sitting on a table by his bed. It was only six AM and already he wanted a drink. Dorland cursed work and snatched the bottle, not bothering with a cup, and took a long swig of the burning liquid.

The fire numbed him, but only momentarily, and then, like they always did, the memories came flooding back; flooding back to her and that fateful night, the night he sold his soul to the Oro.

He could still remember her face, the look in her eyes when he had shot the sonic blast that had ended it all. There was no fear. Even in the face of death, she didn't know how to fear. There was only hurt…hurt and the one thing that tortured him still…

…Surprise…

She hadn't thought he would do it.

Neither had he.

Then why was he here? Why did it end this way? Why did he do it?

"Because they told me to," he thought solemnly. And there in lied the source of his self loathing and hatred. The Oro had commanded and he had complied, even at the loss of his wife. They had barked and he had obeyed. He had killed her with the very voice he used to whisper sweet nothings to her. And now she was gone. And he was solely to blame…

Not a day went by that he didn't hate himself…

He checked his watch again and sighed. It was time for work, time to repeat the cycle again, to feign normality. He grabbed his slicker and the keys to his patrol car and made his way to the door, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in the rarely used shot glass on his kitchen table. He paused as he stared back at his self hate.

Taking another gulp of cheap booze he cursed the Oro and headed out the door.