A/N: This story takes place after 'Divulgence' and 'Feeding Revenge' which are co-written with squigglysquid. This story will make more sense if you visit squigglysquid's profile and read those two stories first, however it can be read as a standalone. This story is all from Charles' POV, but it has been co-written with squigglysquid who owns and controls Ares.
WARNING: This fic and the other fics related to this story contain graphic, triggering factors including self-harm, blood, gore, history of rape, history of abuse, extreme violence, and sexual activities. Continue with your own discretion.
Normal Life
Charles closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the shower wall. Blood danced on the backs of his eyelids, the memory of the way it felt to sink his razor into the flesh of the men who broke him made his fingers twitch, yearning to pick up his weapon and do it again. Screams echoed in his head, making his cock start to harden. He craved Ares' touch, remembering the tranquility he felt with the turian's hands on him, washing away Harvey's blood. He could almost hear the raspy sound of Ares' voice next to his ear, telling Charles how much he'd wanted to fuck him afterward.
And before that, watching Ares kill Charles' father … Jesus, it was so fucking hot. The whole thing, their entire time on Shanxi, so fucking hot. He thought about Freddy, and how good it felt to hear the man's screams as he sliced open Freddy's face and ripped out his fingernails. How hard Charles got watching the men who hurt him and his sister so badly bleed.
Wrapping his hand around his cock, he stroked himself with slow, lazy movements, building his need. The images grew more vibrant, the screams more thrilling; he almost smelled the blood in the air. His breath caught in his throat, tightening his grip, speeding up his pace. He groaned, watching again as the pry bar smashed down on Cole's knee, feeling the reverberation through his hands and arms. His scrotum tightened, balls starting to pull up closer to his body. He saw Ares, crouching down over James, slicing the man's face off, and it was all he needed. Throwing his head back, cum rushed over his hand, hot and sticky, sliding down the shower wall.
Letting out a groan, Charles leaned forward, throwing an arm up against the wall to rest his head on and sucked in deep breaths. Eezo scratched at the door, whining, begging to be let inside. Chuckling, he rinsed his hand off before grabbing the soap. He needed to be at work in two hours, but it left him enough time to take Eezo for a walk, first. He thought he might take her down to the gardens to see Lindsey. He'd never felt particularly close to the chick, never really close to any of his co-workers, but since Lindsey quit Citadel Souvenirs, he'd run into her a few times working at the gardens, and she seemed to really like Eezo.
Fuck, he hated having to go to work. He had to beg and simper to even keep his job after taking off to Shanxi with Ares. Irene made sure he paid for it, too, sticking him up front to greet customers and push sales because she knew he hated it the most. The whole 'normal life' bullshit was killing him.
He couldn't wait for Ares to show back up, maybe he'd stick around for awhile. Or better yet, maybe Ares would take him out on a job. Even if he didn't get to do anything but watch Ares pull a trigger, it'd be way more exciting than life on the Citadel. In the meantime, he had to suck it up and act like his entire life didn't change the moment the turian showed up in his apartment for the first time. And that meant going to work, putting up with other people's bullshit, slapping a smile on his face and acting like he gave a damn about the petty complaints customers brought his way. Every time he looked at them, especially the real entitled shitheads, he imagined what it'd be like to pull out his razor and drag it across their throats.
Finishing his shower, he turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel to wrap around himself. He opened the bathroom door, and Eezo rushed in, tail wagging, to yip at him before licking water off of his calves and feet. He laughed, nudging her aside with his foot. Moving over to the sink, he flossed before brushing his teeth; Eezo licked his legs the entire time. Rinsing his toothbrush off, he tapped it against the sink and stuck it back in the holder.
"You wanna go to the gardens, girl?" He pulled his towel off, rubbing it over his hair before drying off the rest of him.
Eezo barked, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she wagged her tail. Grinning, he tossed the towel over her and laughed as the Alaskan Malamute pup shook her head to dislodge the towel before flopping over to her back, rolling around on top of it. He stepped over her, making his way to his bedroom to put on his work uniform. Eezo jumped up, following him, the soft jingle of her tags filling the air.
Once he finished dressing and fixing his hair, he grabbed her leash and snapped it on her collar. "Alright, come on, Eezo."
"Welcome to Citadel Souvenirs." Charles plastered a smile on his face even though he felt jittery and irritated.
The asari smiled at him before moving to the kiosk, and he wondered if her violet blood would feel different flowing over his hands than a human's. He reached down, sticking his hand in his pocket just to feel the cool metal of the straight razor tucked inside. It seemed to soothe the beast inside of him, at least for a little while. She took her time browsing the kiosk before letting out a deflated hum.
"Is there something in particular I can help you find?" He took a couple of steps closer, turning to lean against the counter facing her.
"Do you carry any Earth postcards?" she asked, not even bothering to look at him. "My bondmate is human, and I hoped to find her something to remind her of home. I thought you might carry postcards with pictures on them like she used to collect as a child."
"No, I'm sorry, ma'am. We don't have any postcards from Earth." He suppressed an annoyed groan. The damned store was called 'Citadel Souvenirs' not 'Earth Souvenirs'. "I'm afraid the closest thing we have are model ships based off of a few Alliance designs." Not to say model ships were even remotely close to postcards, but Citadel Souvenirs' employee policies insisted he offer every customer an alternative when they couldn't find what they wanted.
She sighed and shook her head, gaze flicking his way for half a second as she turned, heading for the door, throwing a half-hearted 'thanks anyway' over her shoulder. He rolled his eyes, glancing around the empty store. Mahlia was on duty, too, but Irene stationed her in the backroom doing inventory for the day, which left him alone with his thoughts for at least a few minutes. He rubbed his hands over his face, seeing Anthony's cheek split open in front of him, cut all the way down to the bone, blood pouring from the wound. His heart pounded against his ribs, fingers trembling. Christ, he wished he could go back to Shanxi and do it all over again.
The chime above the door pulled him away from the memory. Eye snapping open, he blinked, clearing the images from his mind, already slapping a smile on his face. "Welcome to Citadel Souvenirs."
His smile faltered, though, when he looked up and saw a man dragging a crying little boy by the wrist. The kid couldn't be any older than five, maybe six, and he looked utterly terrified of the man. Charles clenched his jaw, trying like hell to force his smile back into place. The man looked up, meeting Charles' gaze and stopped dead in his tracks, unease flashing through his eyes before he blinked a couple of times. He made his way to the kiosk, keeping Charles in his peripherals. It gave Charles a mad, giddy sort of delight to see the spark of fear again in someone's eyes, a spark he put there, and with nothing more than a look, apparently. The man let go of the kid, and the boy immediately put a little space between the two of them, tears still streaming down his face.
He rubbed at his eyes, giving Charles a peek at the bruises on his wrist, and sniffled. "I don't wanna go, Dad. Why do I have to go?"
Charles clenched his jaw again, turning his glare back on the kid's dad, hand sliding in his pocket to wrap his fingers around his razor. The sound of the backroom's door drew his attention, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Mahlia walk through. He pulled his hand back out of his pocket and turned his attention back to the customers.
"We'll talk about it when we get home, Logan." The man glanced up from the kiosk to pin his son down with a narrow-eyed stare. His tone sounded mostly calm, but it carried an underlying seething quality that stood out to Charles' ears—reminding him of his own father. "I don't want to hear anything else about it right now."
Charles really wanted to take the asshole someplace secluded and quiet, introduce the dickhead to his razor. He just knew the sonofabitch was responsible for the bruises on the kid's arm. Maybe he should. If the man beat his kid, he'd deserve it. Charles could follow the guy home, wait for the kid to go to school or something. But without Ares there to help, anything could go wrong. So fixated on the guy, he barely realized it when Mahlia stepped up to the counter next to him.
"Hi there! Are you okay, sweetheart?" Mahlia leaned over the counter, bracing her arms against the surface, gaze latched onto the little boy.
The man looked up, gaze shifting between Mahlia and Charles. "He's fine." He reached out, grabbed the kid by his wrist, and jerked him over closer.
The man met Charles' gaze again, pulling Logan closer to him still, completely apathetic to the kid's cry of pain and the fresh wave of tears. He turned his attention back to the kiosk, selecting whatever crap he planned to buy, ignoring the whimpering of the kid wedged between him and the kiosk. Yeah. Charles was going to kill the asshole. He just needed to be smart about it, figure out when and where. Mahlia stood up straight, mouth hanging open, eyes wide with shock, but Charles just fumed.
Mahlia put a hand on his shoulder, leaning closer to him to whisper in his ear, and he caught a whiff of her soft perfume. "See if you can keep them here, I'm going to call C-Sec."
Charles gave her a little jerk of his head and cleared his throat. "Have you heard about our current sale?" He fought to pull a neutral look onto his face when the man glanced up again. "All fish are buy one get one free right now. They make excellent pets, especially for someone on the go. They're low maintenance and are sure to brighten up any living space."
C-Sec took the kid and arrested the father, but Charles got the man's address from his sale's receipt. Ares gave Charles a bunch of programs for his omni-tool, things he used to hack locks, disrupt camera feeds, turn off security systems, and run traces on people, among other things. They made it easy as hell for Charles to get inside the man's home. Not that he couldn't have gotten inside without the programs, but they sure as hell made it less risky.
He just planned to look around. Scope out the place, like Ares told him to always do. He'd come back another time when Ethan Rorschach wasn't in lock up. Hell, for all he really knew, Mr. Rorschach wouldn't be home for months, maybe even years depending on what C-Sec found on the sonofabitch, so there may not even be a point in checking out the apartment at all. Still, it gave him something to do, something he hoped might help stop the itch, for a little while at least.
He'd made sure the place was empty before breaking in, did a little research on Ethan. The man's wife died a few years back, the C-Sec report showed her cause of death as 'blunt force trauma to the head'. The report cited an accidental fall, but Charles' gut feeling said she'd really been pushed. He looked over the apartment, not touching anything, not even turning on any lights. The hall light had been left on, giving him just enough to avoid obstacles, so it wasn't much of a problem.
The guy sported a nice setup, plush furniture, stocked bar, vidscreen stretching damn near from floor to ceiling. Ethan definitely had credits to spare. Charles made his way down the hall, pulling his hoodie sleeve down over his hand before opening doors. The first room he came across was the master bedroom. The hall light didn't let him see much, so he opened his omni-tool, activating the flashlight program and shone it around the room, keeping it aimed low and away from the windows. King-sized bed, another giant ass vidscreen—though only about half the size of the one up front, but still—desk with a nice laptop, the Symtech X35 series, even.
Charles let out a low whistle, knowing the computer alone cost the guy at least twenty thousand credits. Shit, Charles could get an easy ten for it if he knew a fencer on the Citadel. Art hung on the walls, but he didn't know anything about art quality. Still, with as much as Ethan shelled out for electronics, he was willing to bet the art was worth quite a bit, too.
He backed out of the room and made his way down to the next one. He didn't know what he expected, but the bare room, nothing but a small bed and a chest of drawers, wasn't it. The kid had nothing. Dad lived large, and Logan didn't even have a single toy to play with. It really, really pissed Charles off. He sucked in a deep breath and finished his sweep of the apartment, taking note of the fire escapes. They weren't ideal, but they'd give him another exit if he needed one. Heading back to the front, his heart skipped a beat when the door slid open.
Shit.
Charles ducked into the closest room—the kitchen—tucking himself back behind the refrigerator and pulling out his razor. He flicked his wrist, the blade sliding open, and waited, straining to listen. What the fuck? Not even five hours passed since C-Sec arrested Ethan. They already let the douchebag out? Fuck. Did he have Logan with him?
Shit. Shit. Shit. This is so not good.
A light came on in the living room, urging Charles a little further back behind the refrigerator. Maybe … maybe the guy would just go straight to the back of the apartment, and Charles could slip out. No harm, no foul. He didn't feel ready for anything else. He'd just come to check the place out, that was all.
Footsteps moved toward the kitchen, making Charles' hand tremble with nerves and something else … the beast in the back of his head, the thing fueling him on while he cut into Harvey over and over and over again on Shanxi, roared. His pulse pounded so loud in his ears, he couldn't be sure whether he heard one set of footsteps or two.
Jesus, don't let the kid be here. Don't let the kid be here. Don't let the kid be here.
The light in the kitchen flicked on, and Charles adjusted his grip on his razor, already feeling it sinking into Ethan's throat, already smelling the blood in the air. He thought about the bruises on Logan's arm, how afraid the kid looked, and he closed his eyes for a second, sucking in a shallow breath.
"What the fuck?"
Eyes snapping open, Charles lunged toward the man, rearing back before swiping down, slashing the man across his face. Ethan flailed, blood splattering across the wall and counters, knocking the razor from Charles' hand, sending it flying into the wall before skittering across the floor. Recovering enough to slam into Charles, Ethan knocked him back against the refrigerator, shoulder in his gut, ripping the air out of his lungs. Charles beat at him with his fists, hitting Ethan in the back of the head and neck, trying to suck in another breath of air. Ethan lost his grip, and Charles managed to pull air into his lungs again, the metallic tang of blood filling his nostrils.
Ethan staggered back, but Charles didn't let him get far, punching him in the side of the head. The man carried a little extra height and weight compared to Charles, but he was losing blood. Charles grabbed the man's hair, jerking him around and slamming his head into the counter, creating a fresh gash across his brow. Ethan reeled, and Charles slammed his head onto the counter again. And again. And again, until the man collapsed, stunned but still conscious.
Charles went to step over Ethan, moving to retrieve his blade, but the man grabbed his leg, yanking him off of his feet. He fell forward, throwing his arms out to try to catch himself, but he couldn't stop his fall. His head hit the corner of the counter on the way down. Everything went dark for a second, but then pain blossomed in his skull, setting fireworks off in his vision. He groaned, yanking his leg free and rolled over. Ethan scrambled up to his hands and knees, crawling over on top of Charles, punching him in the face and head before he fully recovered.
Fighting back, Charles managed to get a grip on the man's hair and ear, pulling as hard as he could, and he thought he felt skin tearing. The man howled in pain, shifting just enough for Charles to buck his hips, tossing Ethan against the cabinets. Rolling over and shaking his head, blood in his eyes, Charles rushed forward, grabbing his razor from the floor and turned, slicing into Ethan's forearm.
Ethan scuttled back, but Charles pushed forward, the howl of the beast and adrenaline abolishing the pain in his head and who knew where else. He cut the man again, catching Ethan across the palm when he threw his hand out to ward off the blow. Charles grabbed the hand, digging his thumb into the wound, savoring the man's cries of pain as he wrenched Ethan's hand back and slashed again. His blade sank into Ethan's neck, sliding down over his chest, cutting through his shirt and flesh. So much blood. The beast purred. Ethan's head jerked back, slamming against the wall. Charles let go of his hand, grabbing his hair instead and pinned his head back. With Ethan's neck exposed, Charles sunk his razor into the man's carotid, jerking the blade across his throat.
Chest heaving, blood washing over him, soaking him completely, Charles let go of the man, falling back on his ass. Eyes wide, he watched as the last of the life faded away in Ethan's eyes, acutely aware of his hard cock pressing against his jeans. He grinned, gaze shifting to the blood still trickling from the man's throat, riding the high. He did it. On his own. And damn, it felt good.
Charles glanced around him, taking in the mess, blood everywhere, dishes knocked out of cabinets, the table laying over on its side. He didn't even know when that happened. Glancing down at himself, he said, "Fuck." Blood drenched his clothes.
That's when reality came crashing back down around him. He'd just killed a man on the Citadel, the place where he lived. It wasn't like on Shanxi where he'd disappear, whatever evidence he left behind more or less irrelevant. Not unless he wanted to bail and leave the Citadel. But fuck, he had a life there, a shitty life, but a life. He had Eezo and a job. And with the Citadel being one of the biggest central hubs in the galaxy, it made it the most likely place for Ares to find himself needing to visit frequently. He couldn't leave the Citadel. Shit. He groaned.
What do I do? Fuck.
Adrenaline wearing off, his head started to throb, the side of his head and face hurt like a motherfucker, too. He pushed himself away from the man, leaning his back against one of the cabinets. "Fuck." Opening his omni-tool, razor still clutched in his hand, he input Ares' contact information, the turian having made Charles memorize it before he left the Citadel.
Damn it, he's going to be pissed.
The call connected, Ares' face appearing on the screen, half hidden by his hood. Charles lifted the back of his hand, wiping it across his eye to try to clear some of the blood from his vision. He took a deep breath.
"Ares, I fucked up," he said, wincing at the admission.
"Looks like it." Ares let out a curious hum, gaze trailing over Charles. "What'd you do?"
"I …" Charles tilted his head back, hitting it against the cabinet before doing it a couple more times a little harder. "Shit." He turned the omni-tool, showing Ares the dead man and the massive pool of blood. "The guy beat on his kid. I just came to check out the place, I thought he'd still be with C-Sec."
He turned the omni-tool back around to look at Ares, dreading the disappointment he thought he'd see there, but all he found was the turian staring back at him, a look of boredom and growing impatience on his face. Charles licked his lips. "I don't know what to do with the body here. I can't just walk away from the mess like on Shanxi! I fucking live here. And some of this shit's my blood, too. Shit!" He banged the back of his head against the cabinet a little harder. "C-Sec's going to find my DNA here."
Ares sighed, mandibles fluttering, and rolled his eyes upward. "Alright. First thing is you need to remember everything you touched. Even if you just think you touched it, even if you fucking breathed on it."
Charles wiped his razor off on his pant leg the best he could, wasn't any point in worrying about getting more blood on him. "Okay," he said, trying to gather himself, mind racing through everything he touched when he came in. "I was careful … until he came home, anyway. I used my hoodie sleeve to open the doors, didn't touch anything else." He glanced around the kitchen, taking in the blood splashed and smeared over almost every surface. He had no clue what he did or didn't touch in there. "So, I'm pretty sure it's just all in the kitchen." He licked his lips trying to center himself as he closed the razor and shoved it in his pocket. "But I'm covered in blood."
"What's your time limit?" Ares asked.
"My what?" Charles pushed his back against the cabinet, getting his feet under him before dragging himself up, trying not to slip in the blood.
Ares grumbled under his breath. "Time. Limit. How much time do you have to clean it? When is someone expected home?"
"Um." Charles looked around the room again as if it might hold the answers for him and licked his lips. "The guy's wife is dead. C-Sec took his kid when they arrested him. It's night right now, a little after ten … if they planned on giving the kid back to the asshole, I don't think they'd do it at least until the morning."
"Fucking Spirits," Ares said, just barely loud enough for Charles to hear. Growling, he closed his eyes. "Find bleach, trash bags, towels. If the guy has a cat, even better."
Charles' eyebrows dipped down, confusion making his head throb worse. "What the fuck does a cat have to do with anything?"
Ares mumbled something low enough it didn't translate. "Litter, idiot. Cats shit and piss in litter. It soaks up liquids. Clumps up? Don't you think that might come in handy?"
Charles winced and took in a deep breath, fighting the urge to rake his bloodied hand through his hair. "Right. Yeah, sorry." He moved to the cabinets under the kitchen sink, tugging the blood-soaked sleeve of his hoodie down over his hand, then stopped, staring at it. What was the point? He didn't know whether or not the blood on the sleeve all belonged to Ethan. Whatever. He opened the cabinet, pulling out what he could find, bleach and trash bags were easy enough. "I think I'm going to have to go to the bathroom to find towels."
"Oh, please. After you," Ares said, enough sarcasm in his faux-polite tone to make Charles wince again.
"I'm sorry I called you … I didn't know what else to do." Charles dropped the trash bags and bleach on the counter, pushing himself back to his feet. His head spun the second he was upright, forcing him to grab ahold of the counter until it passed. He closed his eyes, sucking in shallow breaths, praying he wouldn't puke.
Ares sighed. "Just clean this shit up and shut the fuck up," he said, but he didn't sound quite so irritated.
Charles sucked in a slow, deep breath and opened his eyes again. Swallowing down the bile rising up in his throat, he said. "Yeah." He used the back of his hand to turn on the sink, running his hands under the water, scrubbing away as much of the blood on his hands as he could before splashing some over his face, hissing when he hit the cut on his head. Doing his best to avoid the quickly cooling, thickening puddles of blood, he made his way back toward the doorway. He took two steps out onto the carpet and stopped. "Fuck." He groaned, looking down at the bloody shoe prints he left behind. "I think I have to take my clothes off."
And with that, every ounce of irritation flooded right back into Ares' voice. "For the love of the Spirits, do not take them all off. If they catch you because of a fucking dick hair, I'm not busting you out of prison."
Despite himself, Charles chuckled. Stepping back enough to lean against the counter, he pulled his shoes off, careful to avoid getting any more blood on his socks besides the few spots around his ankles. "Guess it's a good thing I didn't jack off in here then, huh?" Once his shoes were free, he unzipped his hoodie, letting it drop to the floor next to his shoes, and looked down at his shirt and pants. The chest of his shirt was wet, but not so bad he needed to worry about it dripping blood anywhere. His pants were trashed, though. "Pants are soaked." He slipped those off, too, leaving them in a puddle with the rest then checked the soles of his socks, just to make sure he didn't transfer any more blood to them.
He made his way down the hall toward the bathroom, double-checking behind him as he went to make sure he didn't leave a trail. He did his best not to even so much as brush against the walls along the way. Shoving his hand under the hem of his shirt, where it remained dry, he used it to open the door. Luckily, he didn't have to go far, finding a stack of fresh towels on a shelf just inside the door. He grabbed an armful and made his way back to the kitchen, stopping just outside the mess, bringing his arm up to look at his omni-tool. "So … use the towels to soak up the blood, stuff them in the trash bags, use bleach to get the rest?"
Ares hummed and nodded once. "Yes. Soak the rest of the blood with bleach at least an hour. Every last drop. Steal some of his clothes, dress, and burn everything."
Charles stood there for a moment, trying to figure out where the hell he was supposed to burn everything without setting the apartment on fire. Maybe he should just set the apartment on fire. He shuddered, thinking of the fire back on Shanxi and the way he'd almost lost Ares completely. Hell, they both almost died there, but it was the look in Ares' eyes that really tore Charles up; the way he didn't even remember who he was, who Charles was, for awhile. A fire would take care of everything, though, wouldn't it? Except there were other people living next door.
Shit, he'd have to walk through the Citadel carrying at least one bag full of bloody towels and clothes to the public trash incinerators. "Mmmm. Okay. Fuck. So, what about him? I can't carry him to the damn incinerators." He sat the towels down on the counter and turned his attention back to his omni-tool screen.
Ares let out a pained sigh. "You need to clean the body. All of him. Burn his clothes, and don't forget to get under his fingernails really good."
Charles closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. "Okay. Anything else I should know before I let you go?"
"Yeah. And this is a big one." Ares narrowed his eyes. "Don't get your ass fucking caught, you idiot."
Charles smirked. "Yep, love you, too." He disconnected the call, closing his omni-tool and got to work.
He collapsed onto his bed, Eezo jumping up there to lay next to him. His head throbbed, strained muscles feeling weak and achy. It took him five hours to get the mess cleaned up and everything to the incinerators. He thought he did a pretty good job, but he didn't have a way to be sure. Paranoia set in around the second hour, making him really work to scrub at every little speck he thought he saw anywhere in or around the kitchen, regardless of how exhausted he was or how much he hurt. The scent of bleach still burned his nostrils, and he tasted it on the back of his tongue. He saw way more of Ethan's body than he had any real desire to see, but the sonofabitch was sparkling clean by the time Charles finished. Even the shit and piss. He'd needed to clean himself up in the bathroom, so after, he scrubbed the whole bathroom, too.
He hated having to burn his own clothes, he didn't have a whole lot, but he'd find a way to get more when he needed to, he always did. He knew he'd have to get rid of the clothes he took from Ethan's closet as well, but it'd have to wait, he didn't think he could get back out of bed just then even if someone came in and held a gun on him. At least he didn't have to work the next day.
Eezo sniffed at the Medi-gel coating Charles' cut, and he turned his head away from her before she started licking, draping his arm over the dog's back, and tugged her down to his chest. She licked at his cheek instead, letting out a soft whine, and he wondered just what Eezo smelled on him right then.
"It's alright, girl. I'm alright." He worked his fingers through her thick coat of fur, scratching his fingertips along the nape of her neck.
Ares was right. Having a dog did help Charles during the times he was away. Eezo wiggled in closer, laying her head on his chest and let out a soft, whining, grunt of sound before yawning. He closed his eyes, yawning himself, sleep already pulling at his mind.