Mastermind | TRACOB

CHAPTER TEN

I Never Told You What I Do For A Living - My Chemical Romance

(this song... goes with this whole story so well like,, everything matches?? At least listen to it, maybe read the lyrics cause ohmygod)

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shape·shift·erˈSHāpˌSHiftər/nounnoun: shape-shifter; plural noun: shape-shifters; noun: shapeshifter; plural noun: shapeshifters(chiefly in fiction) a person or being with the ability to change their physical form at will.

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"I had to turn myself in, pretty sad hm?" Troye said, smirking as an officer hurried forward with handcuffs. Troye held his red-stained hands behind his back, wincing a bit as the man tightened the restraints. "A little rough there, aren't you?" There was no reply as the man just finished putting his handcuffs on and stepped back. "God, you're unprofessional." The shifter snickered as the humans scurried to get their jobs done, two roughly grabbing Troye's arms and shoving him out of the house. Troye's blue eyes shifted down to the ground, watching the bloodied footprints they were leaving behind.

The men roughly shoved him into the back of the car, slamming the door shut as soon as he was in. Troye could see them conversing, almost fighting over who was going to drive the car that held him. He was dangerous, after all, they could tell that. They may not have known how dangerous he was, but it was a start. Troye moved his body across the seats and pulled his legs up, getting blood on the window of the car. God, it was a mess. He laughed when an older male officer hit on the glass, telling him to get his feet down. He flipped the man off and took his feet down, sitting up and leaning forward, dipping his fingers into the blood on the window. He started to draw in the blood, the ever-present smirk on his face as he finished off the single word.

'MASTERMIND' was boldly scrawled across the slightly-tinted glass.

Someone hurried to get into the drivers seat while another joined him, the car starting and sirens being switched on. Troye hummed to himself as they drove to the station, watching the people outside on the streets. The man and woman that were in the car got out, dragging him out of the car with one on each arm. They roughly took them into the building. The shifter winked at some people who were sitting in the waiting room, his gaze doing nothing but sending chills down all of their spines. Troye was shoved into a holding cell, his cuffs left on. The second he was in the officers slammed the door, locking him up securely.

Or what they thought was securely, at least.

Troye waited for them to walk away before he looked up into the camera in the corner of the room. He would have to move fast, as the second he broke that camera alarms would be raised. Troye tilted his head, still staring into the camera, a sick smile twisting his lips upward. His blue eyes flashed gold for a split second before he jumped up, swinging his arms down so that his hands were in front of him, rather than behind him. He ran forward and jumped up again, hooking the short chain of the handcuffs on the top of the camera, jerking it down off of its mount. He kicked it up against the hard wall, watching it shatter. Then he decided who he was going to shift into, thinking back to the man who had driven him here. In under two minutes his curls were replaced with straight, slicked back dark hair. His skin was more tanned, his body heavier set.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE!" he yelled, banging on the door. "THE LITTLE SHIT-"

In just a moment the door opened, a grown man whimpering when he was met by. . . well, himself. "Welcome to hell," Troye said teasingly, grabbing the man by his collar and dragging him into the cell, shoving him back against the wall. He slammed the door shut and turned down the hall, looking at the other people who ran towards him. "He's in there, it's fine. Just needs the camera fixed." The people nodded, slowing from their rush.

Troye rolled his eyes as soon as they were not looking at him, walking down the corridor towards the familiar office. He knocked on the door, walking in as soon as he heard Jacob's voice. "Come in," he called, his voice stressed. Troye opened the door, stepping into the room. "What can I do for you, Ross?" Jacob asked, looking up from his paperwork with tired eyes. 

"Who's Ross?" Troye said, taking a moment before laughing. "Oh right, that's supposed to be me. We'll guess what, Sir, Ross isn't here right now. He's locked up in a cell."

Jacob looked confused and concerned as he looked up at 'Ross'. "What are you talking about?"

Troye's eyes flashed gold. "Wanna see a trick?"

"Ross. . . what are you talking about?"

"This."

Jacob's eyes widened as he watched the gruesome process of the man who he thought was Ross morphing back into the familiar man who he had spent so much time with. The blood was still on Troye's hands, along with the marks from the handcuffs on his wrists. "Your men arrested me," Troye said with a pout, stepping backwards and flipping the lock. He walked over to Jacob, climbing into the detective's lap before he could process what was happening. "How could you let them do that do me? They hurt me." He held up his wrists, showing off the marks.

"W-what-"

"I don't think you would understand," Troye said. "You haven't grasped it for this long. I killed everyone, Jacob. All those people that have died recently? That's been me. And you just kept feeding me more and more information. . . you're really not good at keeping stuff confidential."

Troye ran his crimson-stained fingers over Jacob's jawline, watching the way the man shook. "I have been right here with you this whole time. You've been telling me how good I've been accomplishing and you know what? It has felt better than the sex."

Troye's eyes were glowing gold as he looked into Jacob's, reflecting off of the hazel colour. Jacob was frozen in shock, fear pulsing through him. He did not know what to say or do, he was stuck. He wanted to move from that position, he wanted to run away from Troye, but how could he?

Troye placed one hand on either side of Jacob's face, leaning down to place a kiss on his lips. "It was so nice to know you," he mumbled, kissing the man deeply before pulling back and jerking his head to the left, his smirk returning as a loud crack echoed through the office. "Bye babe," he said, standing up and grabbing a pen. He flipped a paper over, quickly scribbling a few words down on the paper before he ran to the window, sending a wink back at Jacob's body before he kicked out the screen and jumped to the ground, running through the bushes to find a new town to terrorize.

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A few minutes later, Ross was found in the cell. Then Jacob's door was broken down and the head detective was pronounced dead. The only thing left behind was one messily written note:

you have no idea what you're messing with. don't forget the fear you felt when I looked into your eyes. if you try to find me, I will kill every last one of you.

after all. . .

i am a MASTERMIND.

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THE END