Cameraman Never Dies

Judge stared wide-eyed as the red-haired, blood-soaked figure stepped closer. The man's eyes, filled with something between pride and exhaustion, locked onto Judge. Without a doubt, this was his father. But why was he drenched in blood? And more importantly, why was he approaching with arms wide open like a ghost face trying to scare the children, or like a responsible adult who was just trying to give him candy.

He remembered that one time when he was promised candies by some guys with a van on Thanksgiving Eve and his parents had to thank the police for their 'hard work'. He brushed off the embarrassing memory, he had grown since then.

His mind was back to the present, his father leaned in near him, ready to pick him up from the bed. His tiny baby brain went into full panic mode. Nope, nope, nope! He had gone through a lot today, an embarrassing meal, a not-embarrassing bath, another embarrassing bath, a never ending parade of golden objects, and an unknown language he swore he would learn... one day.

Getting a bloodied hug from a psychopathic killer was not on his list of—'things to do before conquering the world'. Though he loved his father dearly, he hated the idea of another bath. So he had to make sure nothing, including blood and gore, dirties his body or clothes.

Just as his father was about to scoop him like an ice cream vendor scooping ice-creams to make cones at a busy hour, his mother intervened. Coming in like a hawk trying to protect its nest, she touched her husband's chest, stopping him mid-hug.

Judge couldn't understand what she said, but from the stern look on her face, it was clear she wasn't thrilled about her husband's current state. She was scolding him like a mother who found her kid stealing candies that she hid. She pointed at his bloodied frock coat, cravat and waistcoat, his horns, and finally at the sword hanging on his waist, everything had blood on it.

Judge could only assume she was saying something like, "Are you seriously trying to hug our son while looking like you just walked out of a Victorian-era horror movie?" Even though he was appointed as a cameraman, this was too early for movies, and he wasn't even planning on a horror movie.

His father, disappointed at not being able to pick up his newborn, gave her a resigned nod. He looked at his own bloodied appearance and then retracted his horn, which gave Judge creeps as he wondered what race they were. He accepted the fact that horns were not used as a decoration on Halloween here.

His father looked at little Judge and gave him a happy and reassuring smile, but the bloody face was not helping. With nothing else to do... he cried, yeah... what were you expecting a baby to do, dance?

Seeing his cry, his mother urged his father to get out, and he heard something that left his superbrain wondering, "Okay honey". He looked around in surprise, that was the first time his father spoke after entering the room.

He was sure that he had not turned on enhanced cognition, and his father spoke in a language that he did not learn, it was the foreign language that his mother and the maids spoke, but he still understood what he was saying.

He needed to dig deeper into it, and for the time being, he needed to hear his father speak while his enhanced cognition was active. He knew that was the cheat code to learning the language that haunted him.

His father turned and left, giving Judge a satisfied look, it was a crisis averted. His mother scooped him up and gave him a warm hug, a warmth that he wanted to last forever—not like the warmth he got from his first (and last) taste of alcohol. That left a lasting memory, but not in the best way possible.

As she held him, Judge's thoughts began to wander. He was still trying to make sense of everything. His father's blood-soaked entrance had raised more questions than answers. What kind of world had he been born into? Why was his father covered in blood? And what kind of family dynamics were at play here?

He was sure the questions wouldn't answer themselves just because he thinks a lot, as far as he knew, this story was not that much cliche-ed. So like the most intelligent baby, he put that thought off and focused on world domination.

Judge's thoughts were interrupted by the soft humming of his mother, she sang the lullaby that she had paused before due to his father's entrance. His eyes were getting heavy again, like his exhaustion from the whole day was catching up with him.

Lullaby as an ethercraft was a cheat code, he was sure that many babies were put to sleep unjustly like this by their own mother. He drifted into sleep as he heard the sweetest lullaby he had ever heard, besides the one he heard a minute ago (Let's not go there).

soon morning came and he was rudely woken up by someone, all he saw was a red hair. He immediately cried because that was the most natural thing to do, the blood filled moments of previous days came to his mind.

He soon stopped crying, because that was also the natural thing to do. And he looked at his now-clean father, the horns were no were to be found and he had changed into a maroon tuxedo tailcoat with golden patterns embroidered on both the sides. Again! What's with the gold?

He immediately activated his enhanced cognition and everything went silent, good timing... thank you world. An old man clad in a dark goth frock coat entered the room, he looked like he was old enough to be his grandpa.

"Yes Dad" His father answered Judge's Grandfather's questions in the foreign language. "While I have eliminated those who were practicing purgatory rituals, I suspect there are still some left, we have to find their main hideout and destroy them until nothing is left".

His grandfather said something, probably "Good work, son." He tried to memorize what his father was saying, his cognitive abilities spoke for themselves, and he memorized the words his father spoke in the foreign tongue.

His grandfather came close to him and took him up in his arms, "Be careful Dad" His father spoke. His grandpa smiled at him as he held him in his arms, he was thankful for no blood, but he couldn't trust anyone but his parents, and that includes grandparents.

Seeing Judge's 'not happy' look, his grandpa put him down carefully on the bed and left, saying something to his father, who replied with an "Alright Dad." He brushed his tuxedo tailcoat and went after his father.

His mother took him in her arms and followed behind them, it was his first time out of his room. His tiny heart beat in excitement as his mother crossed the ornate door and to the hallway outside.