Cameraman Never Dies

Judge was sitting on top of a clock tower, he did not know why he was doing that, but maybe he just wanted to get a badass frame of himself and record it to send it to Clio. He did just that and turned to other important matters.

"Yeah, nothing says 'intimidating' like a guy sitting on a clock tower, coat flapping in the wind like a drama magnet," he thought. "This'll definitely make Clio roll her eyes so hard she'll see the back of her skull."

He checked his pockets to make sure he had taken enough money from his allowance. It was not much, but he had taken a big stack of notes of many denominations, there were notes of both ten sten and fifty sten.

He glanced down at the massive stack of notes in his pocket and thought, "Perfect. Now I can either buy a loaf of bread or bribe half the city to start a revolution. Why did I even grab so much?"

Altogether, he had about five hundred sten, with even more inside the studio. He could still change his form when he was inside his studio. So his form was of a lean man with cold silver eyes that had golden streaks coming out from the pupil.

His current attire was a black tailcoat, but it was more like a duster coat if anything, but neater. He wore a navy waistcoat and a high-collared white shirt. His golden pocket watch was inside the pocket of his trousers.

This dress was something he had sneaked into the studio when he had ordered several coats for his present to his father on his birthday, he made more orders with the same size and paid for it with his allowance money that nobody seemed to keep tabs on.

The young man who looked like he was in his twenties was inside the city of Limdom, while he had come here many times previously, he was not familiar with the place or where to get the goods he needed.
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And what better place other than a bar to get information, but he would be too conspicuous. His best choice would have been to go into a club, but he had no one to be recommended and accepted.

In the area he currently was in, there was only one known club, at least the only known one to him. It was the silver casket, in order to get inside, one had to be recommended by one member, need another member as a backer, and be accepted with a majority vote in an assembly of at least thirty members.

Judge sighed, while he could get inside using his abilities as a recorder, he still needed a badge on his chest at all times inside the club, which was tiring to think about having to steal the badge on top of getting in just to get more familiar with the town, he had a better place for it, and all he needed was to ditch the expensive attire.

After some pondering, he decided to head to a shop that sold mercenary equipment, including clothes made out of materials suited for combat. He jumped down and landed perfectly with grace.

He started his pace toward the store he had scanned from the top of the tower. After several minutes, he stopped in front of a sign that Just said "Mercenary equipment".

Judge scoffed silently at the sign. Clearly, they have no sense of naming. Don't they know that names can play a big role in marketing? who runs this shop?

Without standing around too much, he got inside, and the whole place went silent as all the eyes started to focus on him, and not in a welcoming way. Ahh! It's because I am wearing expensive attire that mostly looks noble. Not exactly welcome here huh?

Ignoring the gazes Judge made his way towards the counter, swinging his cane along the way.

"I need a few sets of clothes for my friend who is about the same size as me." He said to the employee before him as soon as he got to the counter, "I don't mind the cost, but make it less attention grabbing."

Yeah, totally for someone else. Not that he had any friends his size. Or any friends, period, who wanted mercenary gear.

"Y-yes sir!" The flustered man suddenly answered his request, he looked rather rattled and discombobulated. Judge sighed, the worker can't be blamed for the behavior.

Judge's current attire was extremely attention grabbing, he could only make higher quality clothes if they were in disguise for his father's birthday. After all, why would you gift a cheap cloth to your own father when you have enough money?

The expensive attire would only be worn by either the aristocrats or the rich. And what was a rich man doing in a mercenary goods shop if he was not a merc himself? and rich mercenaries were all very powerful.

The man with black hair and brown eyes led him to a place full of clothes, mostly enchanted. There was one row on each side with clothes that were not enchanted, rest were all clothes made for real battle instead for rookie mercenaries who just started their venture and did not have enough money.

"All the clothes here are suited for defense," the man explained, he wore a grey vest, a white shirt, and a sleeves suit over it. That seemed to be the uniforms since there were three other employees beside him and they were all wearing the same.

"What is your name?" Judge asked in a cold tone, he wanted to ease the tension of the guide and make things easier for both parties, but he did not want the man to be any less scared of him.

"It's Gregory Hales Sir, may I have the honor of knowing your name?" He answered nervously and clasped his hands together.

The cold, silver eyes with golden streaks turned to look at Hales, seeming to read his entire self from top to bottom. Did I make a mistake? Am I going to die? His mind was filled with fear.

"Dorian Caine," he said, holding back a laugh. If only Clio could see him now, the drama king in full regalia. He imagined her rolling her eyes, muttering, "Oh, brother, really?" Yes, really, Clio.

"Show me the best." He went to the male side of clothes, inspecting thick fabric like he knew what it was.