man on the run • shyan

i'll fucking digest you one kiss at a time

warnings: graphic depictions of gore, murder, blood, corpses and a few implied/not too graphic nsfw scenes.

Act I

Cecil Tinsley was a fairly simple man with fairly unusual interests.

While it was the truth that normality was not his favourite thing in the world after spending a life time scouring for the morbid and strange, he would much prefer mundanity than whatever madness this is.

∆

He had always been a more unique character in comparison to his peers back in school and he was evidently stranger than his elder brother Scott.

There's a stranger hollowness in him that constantly craves for more. More of what he will never know. A void constantly demanding for a greater sense of fulfillment he knew he could never achieve, but too persistent to ignore. The strange emptiness created other shortcomings, like duller reactions to a majority of negative emotions but a disgusting need for positive ones. The demand for affection and attention, the want for praise.

He remembers his lack of fear used to creep the other children out, his fascination with the morally corrupted cursed him as an outcast. His touch starvation making him a difficult child to raise.

He wanted fear, at first. Just a taste of what it felt like to be truly revolted. Hours spent in the library spilt over books about criminals, their methods and their trials. But it quickly morphed into a grotesque fascination, a fixation he was too caught up in to get rid off.

He wonders if the circumstances had been a tiny bit different, if the abyss harvesting in his body had been a little more cruel, would he have ended up like these demons he studies.

Fortunately, instead of allowing his morbid curiosity to turn him into a monster, he had used it healthily and joined the law force.

As more of a detective than a cop.

He didn't really like the other cops.

Too loud, too social, too corrupt.

The blood stained on the hands of the law was redder than any blood spilled by the criminals he's put on trial.

The homicide department was the department he was most fimilar with, working on the field something he had done a few times now.

It fascinated him how seemingly regular people could ever be driven to commit such heinous crimes. The person beside you just with one bad day could go on a murder spree, that bullied little boy could end the lives of an entire classroom, an abused wife could finally had enough. It was horrid and he liked dissecting humans for what they were, what they hid.

After five years of investigation work, he quickly realized that most cases were domestic.

It bored him to death.

Five years of waking up early every day to drive to the station and file paper work daily, writing report after report about a homicide that could be solved without his assistance. It made him restless, a mess with a gnawing emptiness constantly prodding his conscious.

The criminal he had manifested an obsession with was nothing like that, he wasn't easy to catch and when there was evidence, he placed it there himself. He was cunning, clean at the border of morbid, and cocky although he hasn't claimed the murders.

It had been years since starting as a criminal investigator when Tinsley firsts hears about the man who would eventually ruin him.

It was at a bar, low lighting, an eavesdropped conversation between two cops.