Mastermind | TRACOB

CHAPTER ONE

Mastermind -Mindless Self Indulgence

Warning: violence, gore, smut and more.

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mas·ter·mindˈmastərˌmīnd/nounnoun: mastermind; plural noun: masterminds1. a person with an outstanding intellect."an eminent musical mastermind"

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Ah, the feeling of power. It was amazing, exhilarating. Something that Troye Mellet could not seem to get enough of. It made him feel higher than everyone else, especially when he knew for a fact that they would not be catching up to him anytime soon. He could cut someone's brakes Monday, shoot someone Tuesday, and be drinking coffee with the police on Wednesday.

Troye Sivan Mellet was America's -if not the world's- most wanted criminal. They just did not know it yet.

It was Friday evening, and Troye was getting ready to go out. He smiled as he thought about the conversation he had just earlier that day with Jacob Bixenman, the guy who was supposed to be helping protect the town. Troye looked at himself in the mirror and frowned at his slightly off-white teeth. He preferred his own. Same with his hair; he would take his brown curls over this mess of blonde hair any day. With a sigh he adjusted his red jacket, pulling it back slightly to look at the gun he had hidden under it. Those fuckers had no idea what was coming for them.

Troye left the house and walked past his car. He would not be needing it, though he could score some extra cash if he reported it missing. That was too much work though. He would do it some other time.

This nights assignment was simple. An annoyingly terrible staged suicide was what he planned on doing.

It was boring, really. Wrestle someone into position, pull the trigger, lay the gun in their hand. Then he would leave the house, leave his gloves in someone else's garbage cans, then go to a gas station or something to purchase something stupid and small. Then he would head back to his own home, shed this horrible skin, and go back to being his normal charming self. Troye laughed to himself as he walked around a corner, nearing his destination. This was so easy- disgustingly easy. And to think that just eight hours before he was in the lap of the man who would be on the case as soon as they discovered it. Bixenman was a good detective, when he was working with humans.

That was something that Troye certainly was not. He hated humans, even Bixenman. There was one reason he was hanging around the detective, and that was for the sex. Well, that was a lie. There was two reasons. He loved messing with the him, oh, did he ever love messing with him. Troye would get inside Jacob's head and beg him for confidential information on the cases. Jacob usually broke and gave him little details. Troye loved to hear the desperation in the hazel eyed detective's voice as he tried his hardest to come up with answers. The answers that were sitting right in his lap.

The blue eyed -currently brown eyed- man stopped in front of a small home, glancing around like he was worried he would be caught. He was not worried at all of course, he could run and shift in minutes and be safe. Man, did that throw the authorities off. One moment they would be on the trail of a suspect, the next they would be gone, vanished.

Troye walked up to the house and peered in the window, scoffing at what he saw. It was just as he has expected it to be: the guy inside was living like he was in college despite his age being almost forty. It was disgusting how so easily waste their lives away. One minute you could feel great and carefree and the next you could be dead. Troye should know.

Troye decided against knocking. He could play innocent, but that would take too much time. He just wanted to get the job done and go home so he could put his feet up... He had a certain detective he planed on seeing as well.