Cameraman Never Dies

"The Clown of Sinister Smirk!" Lester sputtered, voice trembling as if it might break. His hands clutched his temples, eyes wild with terror. "He wore this...this clown mask! A grinning mask, like—like a deranged jester." He shivered, glancing down at the red pool on the floor, barely whispering, "And blood. So much blood."

All three officers stood around Lester, their uniforms spotless—well, except for the accidental splashes of blood on their boots, which they were all valiantly ignoring. Navy blue and charcoal black with burgundy stripes, these uniforms were supposed to command respect. But in this butchered assassin den, they looked like mismatched figures in a gory art exhibit. Read exclusive chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

One of the police officers, Officer Murphy, raised an eyebrow, nudging his partner. "Let me guess," he muttered, "our mystery man's got a flair for the dramatic?"

"Sir, this is not a place for jokes," A female officer said alarmingly, her outfit had a slight difference, she had a high-waisted trouser instead of the normal ones that the male officers wore.

"Yeah Yeah, You don't have to tell me that all the time, I am trying to lighten the mood here." Officer Murphy replied.

They were still inside the assassin's gathering, the floor was a pool of blood, and most of the corpses were mutilated beyond comprehension. The primary analysis was that the killer seemingly had a great hatred for them, possibly an assassin from here had assassinated someone close to them and incurred their wrath.

Normally, as this place was an assassin's den, the police obviously had no idea of its existence. However, due to many previous events including mass sacrifices for certain rituals, there was a monitoring artifact set up covering the whole city that could detect any mass murderings. That way, the high-ranking individuals in the army were all immediately dispatched as soon as they found an anomaly.

"The clown of sinister smirk." another one of the officers repeated, mostly to himself, as if he was contemplating hardly on the name. After a while, he returned to his commanding posture and continued his questioning.

"What did he ask you, why did he let you live?"

Lester gulped, eyes darting around as if the clown might leap out from behind the officers. "He asked about the …my commission to, y'know, off someone. Then he just... he just stared at me with that awful smile."

His whole body was shaking, he crossed his arms and held himself together, he had pissed his pants and was crying like a child— that was the fear the terrifying clown had given him.

"Who was the target?"

But there was no answer, he shivered in fear. "I-I can't tell, I would die... please." He held his head, his eyes hollow.

If anything, the police understood one thing— there was something keeping him from speaking.

"Alright, take him in for questioning," Officer Murphy barked, he seemed to be the superior of the two "And get him some clean pants." And then after looking around, he continued. "Take him to the asylum after the procedures are done, he would need time to recover."

"Yes Sir!" The other two officers shouted.

Lester, who could not think clearly and only had fear in his mind, gulped. He just wanted to get out of this place that teemed with the thick, crimson liquid called blood.

Just as he was about to exit, the officer turned back and asked in a more calmer, yet oppressive voice. "Who commissioned you to kill the target?"

Lester froze, he looked directly at the officer's deep black eyes, "It was me... another me."

Just as he said that— a thin, crimson line appeared on his neck, as they all watched, his head fell to the ground, and all that was left— was a cleanly cut, headless body.

———

Yes! That's how you say that.

Judge sat straight and rested his back on the tall backrest of his huge throne, he was inside his studio and was watching the whole scenario unfold. He first wanted to question the guy and make him accept to work for him to bring him under the influence of the scriptwriter.

But just as he began his questioning, he sensed many people approaching. They likely had not sensed him because there would not be anything to sense when he had put on the cameraman's mask.

Sensing the approaching individuals, he had marked the guy and headed to the studio (after sighing of course) in a jiffy. He initially wanted to take the trembling worker to the next dimension with him but decided against it because he was curious as to what the man would say to the incoming people who most probably were reinforcements or the police.

He was not worried about not being able to question the man since he could do that whenever he wanted and wherever he wanted, it was just a matter of politely inviting the guy into his throne room.

Now that he had gotten what he needed, he no longer had the need for the guy. Killing the guy in such a way when the police are watching was a great way to get captured since they were all people with high power and could sense where a principle was cast from and immediately lock on to the target.

But he was not worried since he was casting the principle from inside his domain which nobody can sense or enter. (hopefully)

Doing this inside the studio had another use, since the highly powerful inspectors could not sense his presence despite casting a principle right in front of their eyes, they would be convinced that he was extremely powerful because they could not detect an incredible powerhouse even if the said person were to cast a principle right in front of them.

"That clown is truly from the Drakonis house." He heard the officer say, and the others nodded in response. His voice did not have the commanding tone from before.

With this, Judge thought, The name of 'The Clown of Sinister Smirk' would spread. And he would watch them speak his name, with a smirk on his face, inside his domain— The Studio.