Chapter Text
Charles was always the safe bet in the arena, he was strong and experienced in hand-to-hand combat, there was no reason that he should lose this fight. So why did he feel so uneasy as he watched his opponent step forward from the crowd? The man had an impressive build, well-toned muscles and a tough face, but he was nothing special. But something was off. Charles was dreading this fight, and he had no idea why.
Until the first punch was thrown, Charles knew what had happened before he even felt the pain, he’d underestimated his opponent and thought he could take the first punch, but there was a small blade hidden between his fingers. Hot, sharp pain bloomed across his cheek as it was cut, it wasn’t deep, but it stretched from his nose to his ear, warm blood trickling down his face and stunning him for a split second.
That small amount of time was all it took.
He was on the ground before he could fight back, the blade was gone but fists were being slammed into his face one after the other. Charles felt his lip split and his nose crack, blood was pouring from multiple wounds in his face, and he was barely conscious as the man was dragged off him. Hands were on his shoulders and sides, lifting him off the ground, and voices were mixing with the ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying.
“... -kay!?” It sounded distant; He didn’t respond. “Hey, wake up! Talk to me!” Charles grunted, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but everything was a blur. That was enough for the people surrounding him though, as he caught the words ‘alive’ and ‘fine’ in their jumbled speech. Charles slipped in and out of consciousness, feeling rough hands on his body, moving him somewhere, there was no care in the way they moved him.
He regained consciousness in a grotty, poorly lit alley. There was no way in telling how much time had passed since his fight apart from the fact the sun had disappeared from its place in the sky. The injured man forced himself off the damp ground, ignoring the way searing pain shot down his spine and his head pounded. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, leaning against the wall as he held his head in his hands, fighting the nausea that began to overwhelm him.
Feeling dizzy, he staggered out of the alley and onto the streets of Saint Denis. Passers-by gave him weird looks when they saw the state of the man, who could barely walk. Charles trudged aimlessly through Saint Denis, unable to recall the way out of the bustling city.
It felt like hours that he was travelling through Saint Denis until he felt like he could no longer continue. He leant his hand against the fence of a large property, carefully lowering himself to the ground, shivering as the cold concrete touched his skin. Somehow, he fell asleep like this.
“Charles!? Charles Smith!”
Charles mumbled some incoherent nonsense as a hand on his shoulder shook him awake, sharp pain spearing his head every time the voice in front of him spoke up. Forcing his eyes open was harder than it should have been, but as his eyes flutter open and his vision focuses, he notices none other than Tilly Jackson crouched over his huddled form.
“Help him up! We’re taking him back home...” Tilly ordered the man behind her, standing up and backing away from Charles with a worried expression as a fine-looking man stepped forward and gently held Charles by the arm, helping him to his feet with a poorly hid struggle and pulling a face at his injuries.