Ellie

“How are you awake? I thought I gave you enough sedatives.” The man mumbled to himself, looking at Jensen, but not meeting his eyes. “Hey, FUCK YOU. Let me go! I won’t even tell anyone. I’ll quit the force and move to another city.” He felt like he was babbling, fawning at the killer just for a possibility of escape. “Just, fuck. Please don’t do this.” The man above him deflated slightly, visibly irritated. “And what does that stupid cop brain of yours think I'm going to do to you?” Jensen hissed. “Screw you, pal. You’re going to turn me into a freak!” Jensen tried to spit in his stupid face, but his mouth was dry. The man rolled his eyes. “There’s no arguing with women. Half the time you never make sense anyway. And what appalling manners. We’ll have to work on those, Jenny.” Jensen’s eyes widened. “What the fuck.” “Language, missy.” Jensen had no words. This guy was off the deep end, in his own world and now he was going to pull Jensen under the surface with him. “I’m going to up your sedation. Please be patient.” The man stepped out of view. “Hey! Come back here and talk to me! Don’t you dare do this. The whole fucking department will come down on you. You’ll get the chair.” He heard the man chuckle. A creeping warmth flooded Jensen’s veins. The bright lights seemed to dim. His hammering heart reluctantly slowed. He felt himself lose control over his body, the last time it would ever truly be his. His lips felt like rubber. He tried to bear his teeth one more time, to go out fighting, but found he could not. “F-fuck you..” He slurred out before everything faded to black.

His fear quickly transformed into rage. “Come out and look me in the eyes, you sick son of a bitch.” he shouted at the ceiling. “Is this how you get your kicks? Turning people into your rotting fucktoys. No wonder you have to abduct people to fuck them. Is it that you have such a winning personality? Or are you just so ugly that even whores won’t take your money.” Jensen knew he was red in the face by the way it felt hot. Tears beaded in his eyes at the thought of what was going to happen to him. He’d read all the autopsy reports. They were all broadly the same: “surgical reconstruction of the genitals and thorax”. What a tame way to say that some butcher was shoving oversized fake tits into guys, cutting their dicks off, and turning them inside out before letting them rot. In his eyes, it was a fate worse than death. He felt a sob rising in his chest. There was no way he was going to cry like a bitch to some freak. “Come on, show yourself!” He roared, voice cracking. Suddenly, there was a handsome face peering down at him. The man was tan with a scruffy beard, long hair, and a straight nose. His hazel eyes peered down at Jensen with a look nearing concern. To Jensen’s horror, the man was wearing green surgical scrubs.

Jensen awoke, head pounding. He tried to raise a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, thinking that he must have one a hell of a hangover. His hand was stopped by something metal. He blinked, rapidly coming to his senses. His eyes darted around, punished by the sterile overhead lights. His heart rate picked up. It dawned on him that he seemed to be nude. Goose flesh from the chill air pebbled his skin. He tried to move again, this time to look down at his body, but his neck was restrained. Judging by the weight around his neck, he must be locked into a collar attached to the table, no doubt similar apparatuses trapped his limbs. The sterile lights, the table, it all matched with what the killer had done to his victims: mutilate them beyond recognition. Jensen’s heart rate beat furiously, he was going to be next.

Jensen ran and ran, making his way deeper into the unlit alleys between crumbling old warehouses. The cold winter air tore at his lungs. His gun was drawn. The man had several inches on him and Jensen was not taking any chances. He ran till he could run no more. He’d lost his quarry to the night. Panting and out of breath, he put his back to the closest wall for support. It sounds like a bottle of soda popping. It sounded like it came from the other end of the alley. He looks in that direction, but sees absolutely nothing other than some broken up wooden palettes. He hissed, suddenly feeling a stinging pain in his neck. He clutches his gun to his chest, but there’s nothing to shoot. He sways on his feet, only kept upright by the wall. His vision is starting to blur. He reaches up to touch his neck, and to his horror, feels a darted syringe sticking out. He must’ve been shot with a tranq dart. Like a wild animal. He cursed himself for being so stupid. His grip went weak and he dropped his gun, slurring out curses in the direction the dart came from. He can’t even tell what he’s saying but distantly he hopes it's something threatening. His legs go weak beneath him, and the cracked pavement rises up to meet him.

Tonight he was out in his civilian car scouting an area that he suspected was a hunting ground. It’s the gay enclave of the city. To him it made sense that a killer with such proclivities would stalk these streets. As Jensen watched the nightly activities of those in the dark park he was observing, he thought of his own happy marriage. He just didn’t understand… these kinds of people. Being on homicide makes him extra leary. He’s well versed in a variety of killers obsessed with taboo who operated in districts like this. This killer’s m.o. Unsettles him like no other. Jensen was scoping out a badly lit park in a heavily industrial area of the neighborhood. It was a well-known cruising location. Nothing had really grabbed his attention, as he waited in his dark car. The occasional moan came from the park, but clearly borne of pleasure rather than pain. He checked his watch, 4:00 AM instead. He sighed, he’d been at it for two hours with nothing to show for it. He knew his boss would make a joke about him “enjoying his work” the next time he saw him. He considers giving up and returning to his and his wife’s nice warm bed, when he sees the shape of a very tall man, wearing all black and a hooded jacket, move into the shadows. He was just standing there. The size of him made Jensen uneasy, and the fact that the man remained motionless was not helping. Jensen watched and waited. He saw the man rebuff several “suitors”. The guy started turning his head around, squinting into the darkness, looking around for… something. He pointedly not looking at Jensen’s car. His shiftiness set Jensen on edge. Suddenly the man locked eyes with Jensen and took off, sending Jensen sprinting after him. Jensen felt it in his gut, in the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears, that this man knew something.

Jensen was known as a hero-cop within his small city. He had gained notoriety for off-duty stopping a crazed gunman that fired on a crowd he and his family were in. Jensen became a local hero and picked up social media attention for his good looks. His face had been everywhere for weeks as the media circus had its fun. Jensen was not flattered by all the attention, seeing it as hazardous to his work. For the last year, there had been a serial killer wreaking havoc on the community. The corpses of male victims, generally in their twenties to forties, have been turning up mutilated and dead by sepsis. The only shared trait between the victims was that they were undeniably beautiful men. None of their backgrounds or habits had anything in common. It seems that this killer fancied himself a surgeon, his victims had all been… modified. The details of which made Jensen’s skin crawl. A pattern arose: the killer was trying to find a man to make himself a woman out of, whether they wanted it or not. The police were trying to keep it quiet, partially out of embarrassment since they had no good leads and the media would cause a panic if alerted. Jensen worked homicide. The second a pattern was spotted, he knew he wanted in on the case. The absolute violation that had been done to the victims had bred a cold hatred within him. His coworkers tried to dissuade him from working the case, they said his well known pretty face made him a target, but he wouldn't hear it.

Cop Jensen/Serial killer Jared thread (Part 1) TW for: trans/homophobia, nonconsensual body modification, and forced transition (although not really covered in this part) Inspired by this tweet: