I Possess the SSS Skill: Future Sight-Chapter 30: The Joker’s Questions

Arthur tried to crawl backward, his face covered in mud and blood, his eyes overflowing with real terror for the first time in his professional life.

"And what... what do you want?" Arthur said in an angry, trembling, and disgusted voice.

"Do you think intelligence will let you live after killing Marcus? They’ll hunt you in every basement—"

Arthur didn’t finish his threat.

In a swift motion, the Joker bent down and grabbed Arthur’s jaw with crushing force, almost tearing it from its place.

Then... he shoved the hot muzzle of the Glock—still reeking of gunpowder, blood, and death—directly into Arthur’s mouth.

The metal barrel slammed against the investigator’s teeth, tearing his lips.

The taste of metal, oil, and Marcus’s blood that had splattered onto the weapon filled Arthur’s mouth, making him nearly choke.

"Shhh..." the Joker whispered, his masked face extremely close to Arthur’s terrified one.

"You need to learn how to speak politely, Mr. Sterling. You need to speak very well if you want to breathe another minute in this filthy world."

Arthur trembled. The pupils of his eyes shrank from absolute terror.

He tried to speak, tried to scream, tried to beg, but he could produce nothing but choked gurgles and pitiful moans because of the thick Glock muzzle jammed into his throat, and the blood pouring from his abdominal wound.

His tears mixed with the rain on his face.

The prominent intelligence investigator had turned into a terrified child crying for mercy.

The Joker waited for a few seconds, savoring the sight of absolute terror in his prey’s eyes. Then he slowly pulled the gun out of Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur coughed violently, gasping for air, spitting bloodied saliva.

"It seems you’re finally starting to understand the rules of the game," the Joker said, wiping the muzzle of his pistol with Arthur’s luxurious coat.

"Now then... let’s get to the point. My first question for you—and it’s very simple..."

The Joker paused for a moment, and his voice dropped into a demonic hiss that tore at the nerves:

"Do you know... Lady ’Grace’?"

At that moment, everything froze.

If the Joker had asked him about state secrets or FBI codes, Arthur’s reaction would have been less shocked.

But that name... that specific name... was like a nuclear bomb dropped into Arthur’s consciousness.

The investigator’s eyes widened to the point they nearly tore.

He forgot the pain in his abdomen. He forgot his friend’s death. He forgot the weapon pointed at his head.

"Gr... Grace?" Arthur stammered, his pale face turning gray like that of the dead.

"Who is—"

Bang!

The sound of an ether bullet thundered through the alley.

The Joker didn’t even blink.

He didn’t hesitate for a single second.

Before Arthur could finish his lie, the Joker fired a shot directly at Arthur’s right hand lying on the ground.

"AAAAAAAGH!"

This time, Arthur’s scream wasn’t human.

The bullet didn’t just pierce his hand; the explosive black ether energy shattered all the bones in his palm.

His right hand turned into a mass of torn flesh, severed tendons, and white bone fragments protruding through thick blood.

His fingers flew into the air before falling into a filthy puddle.

The Joker looked at the shattered hand with cold disgust, then pointed the still-smoking muzzle toward Arthur’s sweat- and blood-covered forehead.

"You need to understand something important about me, Arthur," the Joker said in an icy, emotionless voice.

"I don’t like lies. I hate them. Another lie that comes out of your mouth... and the next bullet will be in your head, so you can join your friend Marcus."

Arthur convulsed wildly on the ground, clutching his ruined wrist with his left hand, crying and sobbing loudly as tears and snot streamed down his broken face.

The pain was beyond his ability to endure.

His spirit had completely shattered.

"Y-yes! Yes! I know her!" Arthur screamed, stuttering hysterically as he trembled in terror at the muzzle aimed between his eyes.

"I know her! I know her very well! Lady Grace... the director of ’Dawn Hope’ orphanage! Please don’t kill me!"

Beneath the mask, Kyle Valter’s smile widened—but it wasn’t a smile of joy.

It was the smile of a beast that had finally found its prey after years of starving in the darkness.

"Now you’re starting to grow on me, Arthur. Honest and direct," the Joker said in a tone of twisted approval.

"So then... now that we’re honest friends, the second question: who is the main person responsible for these human experiments? Who is funding that slaughterhouse you call an orphanage?"

Arthur, breathing at a frantic pace as he tried not to lose consciousness from the pain, looked at the Joker with cloudy eyes.

"E-experiments? What experiments?" Arthur stammered, trying to buy time—or perhaps stupidity had truly blinded him for a moment.

Bang!

A second shot tore through the alley’s silence.

This time, the bullet pierced Arthur’s left knee.

The black ether energy detonated the knee joint from the inside.

Fragments of cartilage and sharp bone shards burst through his expensive pants, turning his leg into a dangling mass of flesh barely connected to his body by torn tissue.

This time, Arthur’s scream faded into a hoarse whimper, as his vocal cords had been torn from his previous screams.

His body trembled in spasms of neural shock. He was dying slowly—and in the most horrific way.

"It seems you never learn your lesson," the Joker sighed, his tone carrying sadistic disappointment as he placed his heavy foot on Arthur’s remaining good leg, pinning him to the ground.

"Don’t pretend ignorance with me. And don’t lie. You know exactly what I mean. I’ll ask the question one last time, and I hope your answer is convincing."

The Joker bent down, bringing his masked face close to Arthur’s dying one.

"Who is responsible for these experiments? Who is requesting children to turn them into monsters?"

Arthur, his eyes bulging with tears and despair, bloody foam spilling from his mouth, shook his head with extreme difficulty.

"I... I don’t know... I swear to you, I don’t know!" Arthur whispered, his voice choking on blood.

The Joker looked at him coldly—and said nothing.

Bang!

A third shot.

It pierced Arthur’s left hand—the only remaining intact one.

It punched through his palm and pinned it to the asphalt beneath him.

Arthur no longer screamed. He only gasped, crying like a cursed child, his body convulsing in a pool of blood that had spread to cover the entire alley.

"I swe— I swear!" Arthur cried, begging, as hot tears washed some of the mud from his face.

"I really don’t know! Please believe me! How could someone like me... just a lowly investigator who follows orders... know who the mastermind is?! We deal with intermediaries! We collect children from Grace and hand them over to masked brokers whose faces we never see!

The real mastermind is an entity or organization beyond all of us! I swear on my life I don’t know his name!"

Arthur was telling the truth.

The terror in his eyes and the scent of pure despair radiating from him confirmed to Kyle that this pathetic investigator was nothing more than a small insect at the bottom of a terrifying food chain, possessing no information about the true mastermind.

The Joker remained silent for a few seconds, observing this broken creature who minutes ago had been boasting of his power and status.

Blood, torn flesh, and whimpering... a scene that would make any normal person vomit.

But Kyle Valter, who had walked the corridors of Erebus and witnessed rivers of blood, felt nothing but disgust at the fragility of these humans who prey on orphans, only to shatter like cheap glass at the first shot.

The Joker slowly stood up and looked down at Arthur.

"So... you don’t know the mastermind," the Joker said in a calm, terrifying voice.

"But you do know the herd you work with."

The Joker pointed his gun toward Arthur’s torn chest and tilted his head, the glowing blue smile beneath the rain.

"So, I want you to tell me about the rest of the individuals involved in this network from your sector. I want names... I want ranks... and what are your important and vital areas? And most importantly..."

The Joker whispered, his crimson eyes burning behind the mask, carrying the hell of ten years of accumulated hatred:

"Where is your main base located? Where are you hiding the remaining children of ’Dawn Hope’? Speak, Arthur... and I will grant you the gift of a quick death."