Chris Wood ~ Character Imagines + One Shots

criminal - Brandon North

Strangers - Halsey

TW // murder, suicide

It's all over, Brandon thought.

His hands were shaking, his forehead beading in sweat. He held the phone in his hand, the LAPD on call. They'd located him at Carlo's house, the guy who they deemed to be next on Brandon's hit list.

A woman, supposedly the police commissioner was trying to talk him down on the call, telling him that she knew he was wronged, and she knew she wouldn't be able to make him believe that this wasn't the end for him, so she was sending a consultant in to talk to him, completely alone with no arms, so they could have a proper conversation.

Brandon just laughed, thinking how the hell talking it out with someone would help now, when this was, quite literally, the end for him. He was mistreated his entire life by his parents, betrayed by friends he trusted, and thrown out of the entertainment industry without even a second chance. All he wanted was to become successful, someone who's name would be enough for people to know who he was, someone who would be living the high life with large mansions with swimming pools and personal flying jets, but it didn't seem probable anymore.

He killed people, yes he did. He knew that was the end of the good boy façade he had on for years, ripped off due to a sudden snap in his head, result of the years of pent-up anger and rage finally finding its way out of his troubled mind.

There wasn't any way to redeem him of his actions, so there was no point in dragging the entire thing out. It wasn't like it would make any difference to anyone if he ended up killing himself, if anything he would be doing the families of his victims a favour, and also to himself.

Just then, there was a knock on the door, with a woman's voice calling out,

"Brandon, this is Y/N, I'm a consultant for the LAPD. I can assure you I'm here completely alone and without arms, I'd just like to talk to you before any of this progresses. Could you please open the door?"

He suck in a breath, and decided that well, fuck it, and placed the phone on the table and went ahead to open the door.

A brunette girl, almost his age, with her arms up, spoke, "Hey-"

"The police are outside, waiting for me to get out, aren't they,"

Y/N stared at his solemn face. This was the same guy who had killed three people in a span of a month, the same vicious killer whose face with the glaring word Wanted making daily rounds in the media. Apparently what he wanted was to secure a place in the industry and rise to fame, but was mercilessly belittled which probably set him off. Sure, his actions couldn't be condoned, but she couldn't help but feel sorry.

She nodded, and said, "Right now, you probably know what will happen. You'll be taken under custody and be put up on trial. But I need you to completely understand everything before you're brought in, so I'll request you to put down any kind of weapon you have right now, because let's face it, I cannot trust you."

He looked up from the ground to her face, and she continued, "Because I have no reason to. And neither do you, but I want to trust you right now, hence I'm here, with literally nothing to defend myself with if you suddenly decide to shoot me or bash my head into the wall."

He just stared at her, trying to decipher her actual motives, but if there were, her face didn't gave away any.

Y/N said lowly, "I can assure you, you don't have to be scared. I'm completely defenseless, and you have to be too if you want to be benefitted by this conversation. So I really need you to put any weapon you have on you, down on the floor."