By Midknighter 28 Comments
"To conquer fear."
Thick silence permeated the enclosed interrogation room for a moment, and the two detectives exchanged bewildered looks.
"When I was younger, I was afraid of clowns."
His weathered face was deathly white, with a massive red smear encompassing the lower half, spanning from one end of his cheek to the other in a successful attempt at painting an ugly smile upon his mug, one that seemed nothing but perverse in nature.
"He realized it. And made me into this."
Once more, confusion played across the features of the two of Gothic's most esteemed detectives. The senior officer between them leaned forward, his brow furrowed in frustration.
"Who is he? And what... What is this?"
Ex-Police Commissioner Percival Knight regarded the aggressive questioner with a dreadfully disinterested expression, the strange black streaks around his cold eyes only amplifying the horror surrounding his monstrous visage.
"You're looking at him. He's in here with me. He's in here, with you."
Detective Lewinksi hit the table with a meaty fist and reared up, running two trembling hands through his hair. His partner compensated for the lapse in self-control, taking a seat opposite the suspect, both unnerved and uncertain of the man's nature.
"I don't understand, Terry... You're the Commission -- Sorry. You were, the Commissioner. Tell me... Why the fck would you murder your own family?"
Knight continued to stare at his persecutors with something resembling sheer boredom. Considering the younger detectives facial features for a few moments before responding, the middle aged, purple suited man leaned forwards himself, the cuffs around his wrists jingling like a pair of Christmas bells. His voice was gravelly, cold, and imposing as he answered the proposed question.
"That's simple, officer. He suggested I do it. And honestly, I couldn't disagree with his reasoning. Five year olds are such irritating little things, aren't they? And the wife... Well, you know how it is. Although, I didn't intend on torturing them before hand... That was him."
Stunned silence made itself comfortable around the room, watching events fold out before it.
"Could... We... Speak, to him?"
"No. He doesn't like cops. At least, not the clean ones."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth then a bullet tore through the young detectives skull, exiting via his forehead and embedding itself within the floor. Lewinksi grinned manically at his boss and delivered a brutal haymaker to the back of his already deceased partner's head, knocking his corpse to the floor and managing to receive more blood upon his once white t-shirt. Knight stared disinterestedly at his lackey's successful work and got to his feet, holding out both wrists for release. The traitorous detective unlocked the cuffs with childlike glee and passed his handgun over to his twisted superior, barely managing to restrain his joy.
"Why the fck are you always smiling."
The Midknighter raised his weapon and popped three bullets directly into Lewinksi's face, turning on his heel and striding out of the interrogation room with the stoic nonchalance of somebody who ran the place.