murder aesthetic

@Zeronos

This had all been easy to set up. Surprisingly so, perhaps just too tempting. There was going to be a catch somewhere here, he could feel it, but he was taking advantage anyway. This person deserved hurting, and Milo wanted to be the one holding the knife. Everything perfect and gift wrapped.

He arrived late at night. It was dark, but his night vision never failed him. It was a cute place, really, and he was rather charmed. He stopped to smell the flowers on his way sneaking around the back. It must be nice, doing horrible, evil things, then getting to come back to such a safe and pleasant house. Must make it all extra comfortable, a satisfying way to live. Milo kneeled down to pick the back door's lock. He could fix some of that.

The inside was just as nicely decorated as the outside. Milo reached inside his coat, fingers reassuringly brushing up against sharp metal, and gently set down his duffle bag of other tools. They'd all come into play eventually, he was taking his time with this one, putting in effort.

Milo's glamour buzzed against his skin. It was subtle, not meant to change him into something else, it just made you think you were seeing more- while everything is actually a bit blurry and nondescript. He'd been using it for years, personally made by his (likely only real) friend, and it served him well. It was always more meant for security feeds and bystanders than victims. He left it on here, though, because he still had that 'there's a catch' feeling. There was no harm in attempted caution, even if it failed him or his instincts were imagining things.

The air tasted like sickness. Milo screwed up his nose a bit, looking forward to the blood, and crept further into the house. He kept to the shadows and corners like a rat, not rushing, curiosity and violent imagery in his mind.

Vincenzo Maria Fontana. The two of them were about to have a long, much needed conversation.

That, and Milo was going to kill him.

Vincenzo looked like garbage, and was the center of the reeking sickness, so he probably felt like it too. Milo felt no sympathy, only quick calculations and a very familiar chill in his veins. He was addicted to this coldness and anticipation, and the later more frenzied state that would settle in with time, then a little fucking relief before he started thinking about it all over again.

He wasn't at all moved by the awkward reaction. It didn't matter. Vincenzo was fascinating, though, wasn't he? Acting this way, even with the situation. It was probably categorized as a lesser evil in comparison to his illness. He didn't know what was happening yet, that was clear.

Milo approached, posture still relaxed. "That's too bad, because we're doing this now," he murmured. His senses buzzed in the back of his mind, he knew the other was weak, but he'd stay alert all the same. For the time being, he grabbed the other man by his collar and shoved him roughly against the hallway wall.

"Vincenzo Maria Fontana. You're an ambitious one, aren't you? Except, you're looking rather pathetic right now- and after all I've heard? Almost disappointing." He smoothly took his knife from his coat again, simply showing it off to make his intentions more clear. Then, he looked the sad monster in the eye. "What got to you first?"

Milo twirled the knife, thrust downward, and stabbed it into Vincenzo's gut. He twisted it, then repeated the motions, again, again, and again, in all the ways he knew would hurt the most without being fatal… and very quietly exhaled.

This was what true gratification felt like.

In the back of his mind, Milo felt that being called 'pretty boy' by this person was a little ironic- however fucking shitty his appearance was right then, as well as his reputation. He simply raised a brow at the other comment, inwardly recoiling at the idea of rape. He was nowhere near that kind of monster, and if he was being really honest… he didn't really care about sex in general. Seemed messy, full of regret, not to mention dangerous. Seeing how this man behaved rather confirmed that for him.

It didn't seem like he had any reason to worry after all. Vincenzo was weak enough that he could've already been dying, without Milo needing to show up at all. That was unsatisfying, though, why pass away from some disgusting disease when they could throw a little purpose into it all? If he was dying anyway, it was even more reason for Milo to be selfish with it. He'd keep this fucker company while he drowned in his own blood. He was nice like that.

Coincidently, Milo's lips twitched at all the blood getting on him right then. Gross, especially what was being coughed up. Ah, it felt good. Fun. A good weekend hobby for two upstanding citizens. His yellow, feral leaning eyes glittered.

And then this punk had to try and ruin it by getting a hard on. Ugh. This kind of scum, then. It wasn't Milo's first run in with one. He could either sabotage it in return for them, or he could just ignore it. It didn't matter to him. Maybe it even made the murder a little better, because he wanted to fucking destroy them even more thanks to their attitude.

"If I call you a repulsive little brat, are you going to take it as a compliment?" Milo muttered, sounding very thoughtful. He removed his knife, and replaced it with clawing fingers instead, which weren't as sharp, yet far more digging and exploratory instead. He tugged, teared at, and screwed around with all of the other's lovely fresh wounds. "This sexual garbage is all on you, by the way. But if it helps you last longer through the night, that's fine by me. Speaking of!"

He tucked his knife back in his coat pocket, then removed his hand, wiping viscera off on Vincenzo's already spoiled pajamas. He crouched down a bit, then picked the shorter man up, throwing him over his shoulder and hoping for flailing. He continued to be unruffled by the very obvious arousal, even when it was pressed against his shoulder. "We'd better get settled in, move you over to all the proper gear. Knives are nice, but I'm not a fucking amateur, nor do I intend on any of this being dull."

Then, he started walking in the direction of Vincenzo's living room, cheery enough to hum a cute tune.

Ah. He'd finally caught on. Milo slowed his steps briefly to acknowledge this, as well as reply seriously to the questions. "Research, at first, then the right planning and opportunity. It's a process, and there are proper ways to go about these things." He didn't feel particularly bad, chatting with victims. It wasn't like he could talk about these things with just anyone.

His eyes narrowed. "How fitting, since I'm not going to treat you very gently, or make any of this quick, even if you were to request it. I'm glad we're on the same page." The promise of haunting went ignored. It sounded like a sad last attempt at intimidation or an upper hand, and with the current situation, that was just laughable.

He kept moving, after that, completely quiet until he, unceremoniously, dropped Vincenzo on the living room floor. Milo looked down at the other for a moment, with the faintest signs of a smile, admiring the sight. "You reminded me of a corpse before, you know. There's so much color and movement now, it almost makes you more lifelike." He didn't hide his amusement at this. Painted with red, squirming, and about to get murdered- but more lifelike than before.

He inhaled lightly, and could smell real fear. This was going very well. He spun to, after removing the knife, shrug off and ditch his coat, leaving it in a heap near his bag. He crouched down to look through his tools, an electric feeling buzzing over his skin and thoughts.

"Deciding where to start is always the most difficult part- once we're really involved it'll be more natural, don't worry. Any preferences? It's the only time I'll ask," he said, mostly joking. His hands brushed over a smaller cordless saw. "However… hm, right. I should take care of that first, just in case." He took the saw out, and went back over to his work in progress.

Milo straddled Vincenzo's chest, making sure to press his knee down on the monster arm to keep it mostly trapped. "Sorry this isn't, I don't know, a chainsaw? For dramatic novelty purposes, or whatever. But believe me, in just a moment, you won't know or care about the difference, so just sit back and… yeah, this won't be anywhere near relaxing."

He switched on the saw, whirring away, and slowly pushed it down against where Vincenzo's arm met his shoulder. If the other had managed to keep his mouth shut of any screaming thus far, that would likely end right then. Milo's eyes lit up, heart beating excitedly in his chest, and the blood spatter got far, far worse.

Milo swallowed, and took in a shaky breath. He was having fun, yes. Somehow, there was something special about this fucking trash, and he didn't know what it was. He'd never wanted to take pictures of any victims like this before, just tried to get the events out of his mind again once it was all done, but now? It was... tempting. His phone was nearby, in his coat- it'd be very easy to get, and use, while this man was still so beautifully broken. He stared down at Vincenzo, still settled on his chest, while the other took rough breaths.

"Yeah. That's probably true," he said, voice low. The rational, strikingly moral part of him screamed over this, trying to remind him of everything this person had done. He knew. But before that all registered, it was always her voice, saying that word. Fine, why not? "At the very least, I only hurt other monsters."

Milo stood again, stepping over Vincenzo, not paying attention to the sudden intrusive thoughts that flashed through his head, involving certain uncomfortable things he'd just noticed. He could hardly think about sunshine and kittens right then, so he distracted the new inappropriate, unwanted ideas by keeping his mind on the violence.

His hand hovered over his coat for a moment, but he went for his bag again instead. He took out some heavy duty, magic laced bandages and a potion.

He sat back down next to Vincenzo, promptly wrapping up his shoulder, then stomach area. He wasn't allowed to die so early, and without doing anything like this, that would happen and be terribly disappointing. Milo wanted a lot more, which he knew this person could give. He didn't know if it was the reactions, the smart mouth, the way he looked… but this was different, it stood out.

The bandages would be good for fast healing and pain relief, but it definitely wasn't going to help Vincenzo's insides and bones sort themselves out neatly, or bring back that arm. It was for temporary, drawing this out purposes only. The potion was the same- it was strong, and good for kicking you back on your feet, but had a lot of later side effects. It wasn't at all on the legal side of things, and Nilesy had been very pleased to have an excuse to try his hand at it, as well as have Milo test things. Their relationship was mutually beneficial in that area.

Milo held Vincenzo's mouth open to pour the bitter, powerful drink down his throat. After that, he left him alone, taking a brief break and considering their next options.