In 1973, lost in the middle of the pacific. Charles heard about the rumors of this island in the middle of the sea nicknamed "Skull Island'. There, during World War II, two planed had crashed and no one knew where they were and if someone had survived. But he had heard about the rumors of a giant beast. A killer. So when the American governement came to look after him he was in Vietnam to go with a unit on this island, Charles accepted, ready to take all the pictures they needed him to take. After all he was a war photographer and he came very cheerfully. On his way, Charles had followed the army to go bring a hunter called Pierre. Apparently, he was the best even if he was a bit sassy and snarky. The army had explained to him that Pierre was almost a hitman. Charles didn't like the army but the scientist were quite cool so he stayed with them and with Pierre since Pierre was suspicious of the army interest just like Charles.

After a helicopter fly they arrived to the island a bit shocked by the storm before. Charles let a low giggle because it was so beautiful, this island cut from everyone. But then he saw an enormous shadow. Of a monkey. A giant monkey. Ecen bigger than the Eiffel Tower in his mind. "Putain de merde !" Charles yelled amazed and maybe a little scared because his french was coming back. "Watch that ! Am I fucking dreaming ? Oh my gosh." That was the last thing he remembered before crashing because of the monkey.

When he came back to himself, Charles growned and kept touching his camera that was happily untouched. He let a whine of pain "Aouch ..." but he was good just a few sore points and perhaps a bit of hematoma.