Since Du'Met had been so eager to test each of his new traps and get as much of the hotel repaired and functioning as possible, he'd been less focused on the calibre of people he lured into his clutches, they were just test subjects rather than prey for a real hunt. He'd been through two groups in three months, both had been contractors doing building work, and sure enough, as they ticked over into a new month, Du'Met had brought in a third pushing him over his personal goal of two hundred kills. That was how Du'Met had found himself stood staring at the man he'd locked inside the gas chamber, a man who stared with horror at his sister strapped to a gurney. Du'Met had been through this exact scenario dozens of times, it was old hat to him but for his victims the fear was fresh. Charlie still wasn't ready to play ferryman for him and Du'Met would have rather had Charlie be the ferryman willingly; that idea pleased him more. Doing everything so softly-softly was irritating but softly-softly worked well with Charlie and so Du'Met would live with it a while longer.
The masked man waited patiently for his male captive to go through the script he'd had many read. It had always been rather interesting to see how differently each new ferryman read it despite it being the same set of words just rearranged for a new audience. Some managed to sound convincing while others refused to take their eyes from whoever was strapped to the gurney as they anxiously tried to save their loved one.
As soon as the call ended Du'Met smirked behind his mask and unhooked the acid drip as a show of good faith that provided comfort and made his ferryman more likely to actually believe they'd be released. It was that moment the door opened and Charlie stepped inside with a tablet in his hands and his lucky cap atop his head as the only anomaly to his old-fashioned suit.
"Camera thirty-six is down." Said the blond, his attention on his tablet rather than the terrified victims. "I'll have to go outside to fix it, just wanted to let you know."
Yes, Charlie always did that, it was a by-product of the fear he still had for Du'Met. Charlie would consistently alert Du'Met to where he was going and how long he'd be gone so the killer didn't get the wrong idea and think Charlie had finally decided to attempt fleeing the castle. Though pointless since there were so many cameras, Du'Met did enjoy the reminder that deep down the man who'd come to think of him with such fondness and devotion continued to be frightened of him.
"How many of you fuckers are there!?" The man in the gas chamber snarled. "Just let us fucking go."
Charlie sighed but didn't cast the man a look. "Please be quiet." To Charlie these people were little more than props now, almost like the animatronics. Charlie wiggled the tablet at Du'Met. "Is that okay? To go outside?"
Du'Met gave a curt nod and Charlie happily carried on with his day. He walked down long, dimly lit hallways of concrete in which nestled eerie shadows, until he slipped into the more authentic looking hotel hallways. When not hunting all the sliding walls remained open simply for convenience's sake, and it always surprised Charlie at just how big the castle was – how much bigger than the first castle it was Charlie had no idea. Soon he exited the main door and was greeted by fresh air and orangey sun. Even though he was welcome to go outside Charlie had little reason to since he had so many cameras to position and footage to edit. He'd not really been an outdoorsy person to begin with unless it involved a smoke. Speaking of cigarettes, Charlie had managed to quit thanks to his captivity but Du'Met smoked and Charlie had soon fallen back into old habits: Or at least he had to some degree, Du'Met's smoking was significantly more casual than Charlie's had been and now the two tended to have the occasional smoke break together rather than Charlie climbing the walls until he got a new cancer stick lit. So, as the sun warmed Charlie's pale skin, he tucked the tablet under his arm, pulled a pack that was almost full from his back pocket and lit one with his golden lighter; the lighter Du'Met had finally returned to him. The smoke burnt his lungs in that way every addict came to enjoy.
With long strides the blond made his way through the gardens to the unkempt sections hidden behind the castle that Charlie thought Du'Met wanted to turn into a maze of some kind. There lay an ancient garden shed shrouded in ivy. It looked as though the ivy was the only thing which held the shed together, but that didn't stop Charlie setting his tablet down on the dry fountain and ripping the shed door open. It was something of a JDLR shed – just doesn't look right – but, being English, Charlie preferred the word dodgy. Out from the spider nest came an old wooden ladder, the sight of which caused Charlie to lament his decision not to bring one of the sturdier metal ladders from the castle's lower levels. Charlie ignored his worries though and instead set the ladder up on the inside of the dry fountain and climbed up it to reach the damaged camera mounted on the dog sculpture which sat atop the fountain.
Charlie wasn't Mark but he could fix a damn camera, he'd read almost every instruction manual Du'Met had left out underneath his Future Vision books and had managed to become somewhat savvy fairly quickly. The director had impressed himself with how quickly he'd learnt frankly.
"Ah fuck, it got wet." He grumbled to himself with his cigarette hanging from his lips.
The small camera was removed from the dog sculpture and placed beside his tablet so Charlie could return the ladder to the spider nest it had come from. Blue eyes glanced up at the setting sun, darkness would dominate soon and Du'Met would be in his element. Night owls, the pair of them. Perhaps he'd convince Du'Met to eat out in the gazebo for a change. Charlie finished his cigarette, breathed out large clouds of smoke that drifted off into the distance with the breeze before the butt was crushed underfoot.
"All right, let's get you inside."
Charlie grabbed his tablet and the camera which he'd take inside to dry properly – if he couldn't fix it he was sure Du'Met would be able to. His walk back to the hotel's main door was slow and more of a meander than a walk, directing and editing was a long-drawn-out task so it would be a while before he found himself out for a stroll again. Du'Met tinkered away inside and Charlie rather liked the post-cigarette bliss, so he enjoyed his quiet walk. Thankfully he'd paid attention to Du'Met's lesson on where all the pitfall traps were so those didn't pose a danger to him on his walk.
Sometimes he wondered what his crew got up to in the almost seven months since everything had happen. Charlie had no doubt Mark and Jamie had enough skill to make something of themselves, Erin was much too timid even after her little outburst and insistence Charlie was tied to that fence and left to die. Then there was Kate, she certainly had ambition but her selfishness and habit of quickly alienating herself form just about everybody around her would likely be her downfall. Of course the redhead would keep trying, that was to be admired, but she'd never make it big and eventually end up like Charlie had been – middle-aged and depressed wondering where that big break had gotten to. Mark and Jamie though, yes, to them he wished the very best of luck.
Charlie's past no longer seemed relevant, he'd found himself in the perfect role and Du'Met had placed a bookshelf on the upper floor of the control room which Charlie would slowly fill with his completed documentary films. He had some more trial and error to go through but Charlie's masterpieces would fill him with pride. Finally his work wasn't just slapping something together and hoping for the best. The blond had eventually managed to get the perfect camera angles and Du'Met had actually listened to him when he'd asked the killer to avoid blocking them during his hunts.
Waves crashed distantly against the cliffs and somewhere off to the west a bird squawked. Outside the castle things lived, inside things died. Sometimes Charlie forgot about the sounds of nature. He remembered the time after that first dinner in the restaurant when Du'Met had taken him out to the oddly adorable gazebo. The memory was one of those warming ones, like fresh tea on a wintery night, and before he knew it Charlie had wandered to the gazebo itself rather than back into the hotel. As he leant on the rail Charlie's blue eyes caught sight of something reflecting in the grass between the gazebo and the cliff and it caused his brow to furrow. There was no chance of picking it up since if he tried he'd surely tumble over the cliff to his death, but that didn't prevent Charlie turning his lucky hat around and leaning over the wooden railing to gain a better look. Wine glass, it was an empty wine glass. Suddenly he remembered dropping it long ago and grinned because that was the first night he'd felt as though he and Du'Met were on the same page, like they were something other than prisoner and jailer, like the serial killer cared about him. Suddenly a squeak jolted the middle-aged man out of his thoughts and his head snapped around to see Du'Met sans mask and hat, though he still wore his apron.
"Oh, it's you. You scared me." Du'Met smirked because he enjoyed spooking the younger man here and there. A strong arm was snaked around the blond's waist as the sun finally dipped below the horizon causing the sky to fracture into various shades of orange, yellow and red. Charlie settled against the taller man for that comforting touch he craved. "Do you have your ferryman?" Du'Met nodded in the affirmative and Charlie knew he'd not have very long to finish editing his footage before the next batch of victims arrived. "Will you take a break after this next lot are dealt with? I can't keep up with my editing and surely you can't keep this up much longer either."
Du'Met nodded again and Charlie took that to mean he would indeed be taking a break, but a moment later the killer started to tap on Charlie's upper arm to spell out 'one more' and Charlie knew that meant Du'Met had already planned another set of deaths. Two groups, the next group and another after that, then and only then would they have that break Charlie wanted.
As soon as he'd reached his target number of victims he'd perked up: Charlie had thought that Du'Met would speak for a second or two on that day. As far as the Brit had been able to tell Du'Met's silence was a sort of selective muteness; he'd hum, clear his throat and growl from time to time but never actually spoke a word and Charlie had decide trying to force him was a waste of time. If a new victim total target had been set or if he simply wanted to watch the number swell from now on Charlie had no clue. Either way Charlie knew he'd have many sequels to direct. Since he'd gained control of the cameras Charlie had been essentially practising with them, the footage he had of the last four groups of prey was what he'd mentally dubbed 'the making-of footage'.
Apparently he'd been outside too long because Du'Met coaxed him away from the gazebo, the discarded wine glass and back into the hotel of horrors. How such a place of death had become home was yet another question the Englishman had banished to the back of his mind.
~X~
The arrival of the latest lot of soon-to-be murdered victims was something Charlie watched from one of the second floor bedrooms in the hotel. Five people totally unaware they were going to their doom and a ferryman who wanted nothing more than to keep himself and his sister alive. Charlie remembered how excited he'd been when he'd been in their position; had thought his show was saved and his financial situation along with it. Of course none of that had ever happened and finances were the last thing on Charlie's mind now. The Architects of Murder might not have been saved but Charlie had still managed to find his big break in a way. The Englishman's journey from the outside world to Du'Met's land of nightmares had been almost an entire year ago now on a different island in a different murder castle and they all knew Charlie wasn't the same person he'd been back then.
Charlie leant against the windowpane so he could gain a better look at his lover's new set of victims. Three men and two women – one of said women had long hair in an alarming shade of pink easily seen from even a mile away. That hair would make one hell of a focal for his last test of the cameras, especially if she ended up down in the dimly lit maintenance tunnels. Where Du'Met had gotten to was a mystery, but if Charlie had to guess it would be that the killer was dressed in one of those damn groundskeeper rain slickers moving luggage about.
The first time Du'Met had gone to get a group of sitting ducks without locking Charlie up in the bedroom had solidified Charlie's faith and need for the older man. He'd been alone with free rein over the murder castle, he could have done anything; fled in the spare speedboat, tried to turn Du'Met's traps against him, anything. Those ideas hadn't ever reached Charlie's mind though, instead he'd been hyper focused on ensuring all the exterior cameras were waterproof and that there was a nice bottle of wine waiting for when Du'Met returned home. Home. When the Brit had started thinking of the second murder castle as home he'd actually paused mentally. He'd not had a genuine home since he'd been a child and the only thing to make it an actual home was his doting father. Foolishly Charlie had hoped his move to America would have given him a new place to call home but it hadn't, he'd just slipped back into mundane loneliness and buried himself deep down in his work. The murder castle Du'Met had built though, this place of death, torture and darkness had become home to Charlie, had become somewhere he could be himself and make his art. All in all it was rather nice to have a real home again.
A breath was taken by the forty-nine-year-old man, one that came with a roll of his shoulders and a large hand down his face. Du'Met had thrown himself into his work and Charlie knew he should do the same so slowly made his way back to the control centre. Of course all the traps, animatronics and all the real scary stuff was Du'Met's department but Charlie was the murder castle's director now and would watch everything from behind the camera with the recording equipment as was his rightful place.
Charlie made it into the nerve centre just as the ferryman finally got Du'Met's contestants over the lobby threshold. As soon as the door closed behind them their fates were sealed. There he was the omniscient overseer of Du'Met's empire and Charlie felt powerful. Du'Met got off on killing, on outsmarting those he deemed to be worthless morons, but Charlie's need for power was a little different, he didn't need to kill, he simply needed to sit leisurely in his place of authority and Du'Met had given that to Charlie in droves.
Blue eyes peered to the empty bookshelf, his making-of footage wasn't nearly good enough to sit on those shelves, but eventually many a triumphant documentary would call the shelf home. Masterpieces to be proud of, so very proud. Those blue eyes turned back to the cameras and the family ripe for the killing. The ferryman handed them all their keys and had them sign the guestbook as all did, his own name was in that book after all. With a sigh he supposed he should have tracked down his well-dressed lover to see if he had any plans to cremate the pink-haired woman. That hideously bright hair couldn't go out so poorly, so dismally and underwhelming.
He grabbed the radio and spoke in a clear tone. "Hey Granthem, where are you?"
Oh that had Charlie ground to a halt. Granthem, he'd called the serial killer by his first name – well, the named he'd chosen to use for his reinvention anyway. For a moment that anxiety and panic flared back up inside him because if Du'Met had objection to such a thing it would not turn out well for Charlie. However, just when Charlie had started to stumbled much too far into his head, a tapping came through the radio to spell out 'WKR'. Since not speaking was something of an issue for radio communication, Du'Met had quickly found the genius fix of using Morse code, and, because he was a man with little interest in codebreaking, Charlie hadn't known a single thing about Morse code and had ended up feeling like a student as he'd memorized each letter and number. If he was honest with himself Charlie had been fairly impressed with how quickly he'd picked it up. While it was totally unexpected, Du'Met and Charlie actually made a rather competent team and knew when to leave one another to their preferred art form.
WKR had become Du'Met's shorthand for workroom so Charlie made his way down there after he'd made certain the ferryman had gone to the designated hotel room to await release and promptly locked him in. Disturbing was the word most would use to describe Du'Met's workroom, blood-curdling and disgusting were some others, and Charlie had used those words in the beginning as well but after his months of freedom it had faded to mildly creepy.
The blond slipped inside the room lit sporadically by small lights here and there in an oddly intimate fashion. Blue eyes quickly found Du'Met putting the finishing touches on one of the animatronics he'd use for his big dinner reveal. It hadn't taken the director very long to realize dinner was Du'Met's preferred way of letting his victims in on the game and pulled the rug out from under them. Charlie rather liked the sort of ceremonial aspect of it that really resonated well on screen.
The former FBI agent sat with his back to Charlie, his mask was on but the bowler hat had been placed beside him on the work bench with his radio. He'd clearly gotten engrossed with his work – Charlie understood that, respected it even. Would have been nice if the staff of Lonnit Entertainment had possessed even half of that work ethic.
"Your guests are in their rooms and the ferryman is boxed in like you wanted."
Du'Met's fingers stilled and his back straightened before he turned to face his former captive. Gradually Charlie had figured out what each of Du'Met's expressions said even when he wore his mask. A demonic twinkle in his eye meant that feeling of superiority caused by killing surged within him, a head tilt indicated a question or confusion, if his face turned to stone he was angry, and a smirk was a clear sign of amusement be that murderous glee or some other form of humor. The current blend of smirk and twinkle told Charlie he couldn't wait to start his hunt. Long strides guided him across the room until he was directly in front of the younger man, he pushed his mask up and placed a kiss to Charlie's lips, a kiss Charlie's need for attention made him melt into.
"I wanted to know if you were going to use the fire trap on the pink-haired one." Said Charlie when they separated and Du'Met did that little head tilt. "Her hair is too eye-catching to be burnt. It would look so much better on camera splayed out somehow. Hell, it could be a trailer-worthy shot. Are you planning to burn her like me?" Du'Met shook his head and stood so he could grab one of the many notepads that lay around the workroom, jotted down a few words and proffered it to Charlie. "What do you mean you can't use the crematorium trap again? Why is it suddenly so special?" Du'Met wrote more in that sharp handwriting of his and Charlie was genuinely shocked when he read the word 'you' on the page. Charlie slipped from confused to delighted as a grin pulled its way onto his face because suddenly he felt so loved. "Because I'm your phoenix."
It hadn't quite been a question but Du'Met nodded regardless and cupped the blond's cheek in his gloved hand. Yes, Charlie really had become his complicit phoenix and the killer couldn't have been more delighted. Eventually he'd have no need to leave two alive with each hunt to provide him a ferryman, Charlie would do it willingly and Du'Met couldn't wait for that day.
"I love you."
The words slipped out without him even realizing it and something fluttered inside Charlie's heart as Du'Met's hand slipped down to the younger man's neck. Charlie had been lonely for so very long and with Du'Met satisfying his desperate need for affectionate human touch was it any wonder he'd fallen in love so easily.
Suddenly Charlie was yanked by the neck back to the taller man and pressed flush against his strong chest so Du'Met could kiss Charlie again. His pet had been so wonderfully good for him and Du'Met was proud. How Du'Met could have killed so many people but still be loving with him Charlie didn't know, in fact he'd long ago stopped asking himself questions like that since they did nothing to aid him.
Without warning one of the animatronics Du'Met occasionally tinkered with burst to life like a demonic jack-in-the-box, started waving it's hand up and down and Charlie nearly jumped out of his goddamn skin – and didn't that earn a chuckle from the killer before he went to silence his creation.
"Yeah," breathed the blond. "You fix that and I'll go get some B-roll."
Happy not to spend any longer lingering around Du'Met's grotesque inventions, Charlie wandered away from the workroom and back toward the control room. Feet guided him on autopilot while Charlie's blue eyes examined the watch he always wore with the 'My Phoenix' engraving on the back. He'd never really had friends and all Charlie's relationships had ended rather quickly with arguments and declarations of hate, so Du'Met's attention and perceived care made Charlie feel loved and valued. Nobody should have ever underestimated the power of being loved by someone they cared about. He'd gone from a man dying of old, lonely motherfucker to somebody who felt as though he wasn't on his own, like somebody cared about him.
~X~
With his tester footage dealt with and edited, Charlie had decided to watch it all back on the large screen in the control room like an artist viewing his latest completed painting. As the end neared Charlie called out to the serial killer he'd somehow started to love and after a moment Du'Met ascended the stairs from the lower level to join the blond; he'd left his mask and hat down there though. As soon as he came into view Charlie excitedly rushed over and grabbed Du'Met by his shirt sleeve to tug him closer.
"Come on, come on. This is my favorite scene! You're going to love this, it really captures something – I don't even know, just look at it."
He continued to tug on Du'Met's shirt like an excited child but clearly the killer had allowed that long enough because an irritated grunt escaped him before he smoothly twisted Charlie's arm behind his back and shoved him into the wall beside a filing cabinet with so much force all the air was knocked out of Charlie's lungs, any more and Charlie's wrist would have snapped.
"Yeah, yeah, okay. Calming down. I'm calm, sorry, Mister Du'Met sir." Du'Met growled deep in the back of his throat and pressed himself against Charlie's backside, it put more presser on Charlie's trapped wrist and sparked memories of being tied to that fence in the coldness of night. It hurt but Charlie had come to enjoy these little bursts of pain, those ones which teetered on the line between pain and pleasure. "Let me show you the last scene, then you can play with me." That got another growl. "Okay, I'm sorry, I know I don't make the rules. I'll be good, I just want you to see what I've made."
That comment got Du'Met to finally release his lover, he understood the desire for one's work to be viewed and valued. Back when he'd been Special Agent Hector Munday he'd found everything he did was just taken for granted – hell, even before he'd gotten the Special Agent title everything had been taken for granted or condemned as worthless – but his work as Du'Met was just for him and a point of pride, so he understood Charlie's desire for his work to be seen. That was what had Du'Met finally release the younger man and go to the large screen to wait patiently.
Charlie rubbed at his wrist to ease some of the searing pain that would likely linger for hours before he hit play so they could watch the last scene together. He'd finally figured out exactly how to get the best pieces of footage, knew the exact amount of time between suspense and boring. His making-of footage had taught him a great deal and he was now ready to film properly, to actually direct a full documentary of Du'Met's murders and this single scene confirmed it.
Down in the maintenance tunnels was a flooded section that Du'Met had yet to clear of water and tidy up and so had been being used as a wading pool of sorts because apparently knee-deep water added to the ambiance and fear value. What Charlie hadn't known was that the water was just deep enough for a body to float on, and float the pink-haired woman did. Du'Met had cornered her and plunged his knife in over and over and over again until the screaming and thrashing had finally ceased. That was what Charlie had captured, a lifeless body floating in those savage, tunnels, water stained red and that neon pink hair splayed out around her head with a single light underneath the water illuminating the kill Du'Met had made. Just as Charlie had hoped the pink hair was eye-catching and had filled his final scene with a loss of innocence as well as a loss of life.
"Isn't it a beautiful end? That hair says she was a bright person, someone happy and full of life, but now she's dead and surrounded by blood. It's emotive and tells the tale of how nobody is safe from Death, he comes for everybody eventually." The blond rested against Du'Met a little while the killer pondered just how much of a marvel Charlie's depraved mine truly was. "Thank you for doing it so artistically."
Du'Met offered his lover a small smile. He'd originally intended to put her in his new pendulum trap – all very Edgar Allan Poe – but after Charlie had shown so much interest and been quite so needy about the whole thing, he'd changed his plans. Sure it had irritated the madman who enjoyed having everything researched and under control, but relationships were about making compromises so Du'Met had compromised and had to admit Charlie's footage had come out rather dramatic and effective. Du'Met had killed and Charlie had gotten his perfect shot just like he'd wanted, they were both happy and compromise had proven its worth because their relationship was stronger than ever. Oh that made Du'Met mentally pause because relationship wasn't a word he often thought about. It was different so different that Du'Met's mind actually stuttered for a moment. When he'd originally kidnapped Charlie he'd decided to make him a companion since they'd never be equals but … things hadn't gone as he'd anticipated and now Charlie had started actively taking part in the hunts, sure he hadn't killed anybody but he'd certainly not tried to stop Du'Met. 'Are we actually partners now?' the killer asked inside his mind, it would take a while to truly answer that.
"Hey, Granthem?" The killer pulled himself out of his mind and looked down to his lover who seemed uncharacteristically nervous. "I think- I think I might be … ready, you know, to be – to be your ferryman."
Du'Met's dark eyes lit up because maybe it wouldn't take a long time to work out if they were actually partners or not after all. Eight and a half months, Charlie had been with Du'Met eight and a half months and he'd already decided he was prepared to be the ferryman. Oh all Du'Met's patience and his softly-softly approach had paid off because the director had actually come around to the idea without being forced. Fuck, being patient had almost driven Du'Met insane! He'd had many an internal conversation with himself about it, but the waiting had finally ended and Charlie had willingly become complicit. Du'Met's body flooded with something he soon realized was happiness, a happiness he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. It wasn't like when he killed, it wasn't that high but something more … intimate – No intimate wasn't the right word, there wasn't anything more intimate than plunging a blade into someone's terrified body and watching the light leave their eyes, but Du'Met couldn't think of any other word better suited.
"Is – is that okay?" Questioned Charlie when Du'Met had been mentally absent too long.
Was it okay? It was much, much more than okay. With delight Du'Met snared the shorter man in his arms and crashed their lips together for a passionate kiss most wouldn't have thought the former federal agent capable of. Their tongues met in a battle for dominance that Du'Met quickly won, their foreheads touched every now and again when they separated for air before their lips brushed against each other's once more. The Englishman's scent flooded Du'Met's senses, their kiss wasn't innocent more like a tease, hot, fiery, passionate and demanding.
Before either of them knew it Charlie had been forced down onto the hard floor with a thud. Blue eyes peered upwards to find the killer's face dark and dominant, those ebony orbs Charlie had grown so fond of had totally filled with lust and expectants. Charlie loved that look because it made him feel desirable and cared about, it also had him hard almost instantly. Du'Met reached for his belt and started to unbuckle it which spurred Charlie into shoving his own pants down with a needy whimper. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt a little bad for the mistreatment of his 1890s suit Du'Met had so kindly purchased, but getting the older man inside him was significantly more important. As soon as Du'Met's belt was open he fell to his knees and forced Charlie onto all fours like a bitch in heat; Charlie basically presented for his homicidal lover. A large hand ran down Charlie's ass before a finger slipped inside him followed closely by a second and then a third. Fortunately he was still rather loose from the night before and just as wanton as he'd been then.
"Sir, please." He thrust back into the older man's touch as Du'Met released a throaty laugh. "Please."
Then, suddenly, Du'Met's fingers were replaced with his cock and Du'Met took him like the wanton whore Charlie could be. It was rough and fast, more about the feelings that had welled up inside the serial killer than anything to do with Charlie's breathy moans, but none of that stopped Charlie feeling loved. Du'Met had wanted him to stay, to always stay with him, and Charlie would because this castle of death had become home and a man who'd once tried rather hard to kill him had become where Charlie kept his heart.
The killer yanked Charlie back by the scruff of his neck so he could nibble on Charlie's earlobe and the hand which had been on his hip took Charlie's desperate cock in hand.
"Oh fuck yes! Granthem, yes." Charlie cried while the taller man jerked him off. "I love you."
It was all over much too quickly though and Du'Met tucked himself away while he panted and gazed at the mess he'd turned the younger man into on the floor. The Brit was a gorgeous mess of flushed skin, ruffled clothing and cum, a lovely sight that Du'Met committed to memory. Charlie had said a few times now that he loved Du'Met but the killer hadn't really believed him at first – his mother hadn't ever loved him, friends and lovers hadn't ever really loved him so why should Charlie's love been real? However, as Charlie lay there catching his breath he caught Du'Met's eye and a little smile of genuine happiness crossed his face. In that second Du'Met started to wonder if maybe that love was real after all.
Somehow Du'Met managed to shut off his thoughts long enough to find a cloth to clean his phoenix up with then, after Charlie had straightened his clothing, Du'Met helped him to his feet and cupped his cheek lovingly so he could kiss him again. Charlie was touch-starved but Du'Met was love-starved and maybe, just maybe, being together would be good for the both of them.
When the kiss naturally ended Du'Met walked away with a gesture for the blond to follow. They headed down the concrete steps to the lower level of the control room, where he grabbed his H. H. Holmes mask, then through a door, a winding hallway and another set of steps until they entered the room Du'Met used to have his last surviving victims make the call posing as Du'Met. In the cell behind the gas chamber where two people of about thirty, both of Asian descent, clearly another sibling duo. Du'Met had caged them up ready for when it came time to use the yellow cable ferry.
The two men stood before the dusty cell, one with confusion and one with determination, while the brother put himself between his sister and danger. Charlie just watched, while Du'Met slowly forced them into the gas chamber.
"What the fuck is this?" Demanded the brother through the glass. "Why are you doing this?! Just let us go, you sick fucking fags!"
Much to Du'Met's, and Charlie's, surprise it was the blond who flew into a rage at that insult. His mother had used that word almost daily when she'd discovered his interest in men and had somehow managed to sharpen the word to a razor's edge. Leaving England had been partly to get away from her and that word so full of hate. When she'd started to lose her mind he'd been glad because that woman just disappearing would have been its own weird justice.
"Don't fucking say that! Don't ever fucking say that word!"
With that rage still inside him Charlie flicked the switch releasing the gas and ending their lives before Du'Met could. Charlie gulped because seeing it through a camera and seeing it in person were two totally different things. He'd just killed two people, he was actually a murderer now.
Blue horrified eyes searched out Du'Met for guidance. "Granthem, I didn't-"
Du'Met cut the younger man off by pulling him into his strong chest for a hug. His phoenix had made him so very proud and deserved all the praise he wanted. Of course Du'Met had planed to end the lives of his latest captives, he'd wanted Charlie to understand that he had faith he could be the perfect ferryman, but Charlie had yet again exceeded his expectations. His mentor had once told Du'Met that the most beautiful thing he ever made was nothing compared to killing a person, and Du'Met had believed Sherman, right up until he'd seen the beauty of what he'd turned Charlie Lonnit into.
The blond shivered a shock set in, all the time he'd been recording Du'Met's hunts he'd seen them as little more than characters in his documentaries but now he'd actually killed people. Charlie wasn't just complicit but completely and totally an active participant in the horrors of the murder castle.
"I'm proud of you. I love you."
Charlie's head snapped up with an expression of awe so quickly it almost snapped. Shock of the horrid crime he'd just committed shifted firmly to the words Du'Met had so quietly uttered.
"You spoke! You fucking spoke!" The director's mouth hung open agape, for once he was at a loss for words.
Du'Met's voice had been so deep and dominant, a perfect baritone that Charlie had long ago given up on hearing. Yes, the older man's voice was more amazing that Charlie had let himself imagine. A voice laced with power and authority made slightly gruff by cigarettes. Erin didn't know it but she'd been correct about why Du'Met had opted to remain silent. However, he had no qualms letting Charlie see him for who he was.
The serial killer smirked down at his lover. He'd never liked to talk, of course he had to for day-to-day existence but they'd been necessary words, he'd never said two words when one would have sufficed. As a child he'd never been able to get a word in edgeways and so speech wasn't something that had been overly mandatory. However, Charlie had deserved to hear those words so, for the first time in almost a year, Du'Met had voiced something. Besides, his voice had apparently done something to Charlie, had made him shudder with … something, want maybe?
A small, primal part of his mind that humans just loved telling themselves they'd evolved beyond long ago, told Charlie to drop to his knees and await a command. It was almost criminal for a man with such a wonderfully deep voice to never use it in Charlie's mind. Du'Met had let Charlie hear it and it made it feel special. How long had it been since Du'Met had last uttered a proper word let alone two whole sentences? And it was Charlie they'd been said to, Charlie who'd earned such caring words. Du'Met was proud of him. Du'Met loved him! Charlie was loved. Amazing how the fact he'd just become a murderer had been so easily pushed aide so the blond's whole mind could focus on his dominant lover.
The unlikely couple continued to stare at one another for a short time as they each sifted through thoughts and emotions, while they savored the moment. Charlie suddenly remembered the deaths he'd just caused and a shiver ran down his spine, he'd never been a violent person, preferred to spit insults as someone rather than throwing a punch, and he'd not felt that enjoyment he assumed Du'Met got out of killing. A reactional killing, that was Charlie's crime and while it hadn't made him feel good it actually hadn't made him feel as bad as one would expect. Actually, with Du'Met there to comfort him, Charlie found he didn't care all that much about what he'd dine, and that would be something he unpacked at a much later date.
"You know I love you too, right?" Du'Met's head tilted. "I shouldn't since you tried to kill me, since you tried to kill my crew, but I still love you, Granthem." Charlie confessed. "I spent years rebuffing anyone who told me I had sociopathic tendencies, denying I'm a borderline narcissist, but with you there's no need. I am those things and you love me. You are a serial killer and I love you. Maybe we're deranged or evil but I'm … happy."
Du'Met had discovered Charlie's ramblings had two settings: irritating and adorable. The irritating ramblings were normally shut down really rather quickly, but Du'Met often let the adorable ones continue.
The pair still lingered in the hug so tightened his arms around the taller man but all too quickly Charlie's head snapped up with eyes full of seriousness.
"I have a rule though." That got the murderer to raise a questioning eyebrow because Charlie didn't make the rules and certainly had no right to demands, although he decided to hear him out. "No kids. I – I can't help you do that to kids, I'll be your ferryman if you promise me you'll never kill another child. Dead kids will destroy my footage as well. Deal?"
Du'Met pondered it for a moment, he'd got no qualms killing kids, they were nothing more than small humans to him. Charlie apparently thought differently though and since kids weren't really all that fun to hunt through his castle – normally were just a tool he used to force his next ferryman into doing as he was told. No, Du'Met had no particular want to kill children so he nodded in the affirmative then lifted Charlie's hand and used Morse code to spell out 'PROMISE'.
"Thank you." Du'Met had his ferryman and Charlie had his agreement; Du'Met couldn't wait to select his next victims and see his sweet phoenix in action. "Is there some kind of script you want me to read or shall I just say whatever gets them onto the ferry? That Morello guy didn't seem very rehearsed." Du'Met tapped out 'make up'. "Guessed so."
There would be plenty of time for Charlie to figure if he wanted to plan something or just wing it; knowing Charlie Lonnit he'd wing it.