Frederick finished filing his paperwork for the day, which had been voluminous, and glanced at the clock. It was already 11:00 PM. He had logged overtime again. He was sure to get a harsh lecture from the chief due to that. Which, could prove to rather difficult. Frederick had blasted through the ranks of the Ylissean Police Force, and become the chief in record time. He would make sure he would receive none of the overtime pay he was technically due. As far as he was concerned, it was his own tedious attention to detail that caused him to work late. The City of Ylisse shouldn't have to pay for that. Frederick put on his coat, said goodbye to Cordelia, who was working the night shift, and walked home. Little did he know, his death followed him. A death he was all too familiar with.

By the time Frederick fell asleep, it was 1:00 AM. The hopeful serial killer, who would come to be known as Grima, opened the front door with a key. It opened perfectly fine. They moved very slowly down the hall that immideatly followed the door, but their footsteps were heavy, due to the excess weight of layer upon layer of clothing they were wearing. The person who was behind Grima worked under Frederick, and had been solving crimes for years. They had recently been promoted, too, as a result of their valor. Of course, at least half of the higher ups had, so they thought they could tell people that. The person looked through their mask, one of a dragon that the killer could relate to. Dragons fascinated them. Beneath the mask, they had on a hairnet, just in case some hair fell out during the struggle. Grima doubted that it would though. They doubted that Frederick would even have a chance to struggle. They reached his bedroom, and quietly opened the door. Frederick was in bed, asleep. Silently, Grima pulled an army issue knife from their pocket and approached the bed.

The knife was sharp. Extremely sharp. Frederick barely felt it as it stabbed his stomach. But it woke him. And he saw the knife as it entered his body again. And again. And again. And again. Until, finally relief came to him, and he could feel no more pain. That didn't stop Grima, however. They were a person on a mission, and that mission was to kill Frederick dead. They stabbed him until there was no way he could be alive, and thrice more for good measure. Then, they dipped their gloved hands in the pooling blood, and went to the wall. On it, they wrote 'Grima'. They had to be certain the public would know them by the name of their choice. They also took an envelope from the chest pocket of the coat they were wearing, and placed it on Frederick's dresser. Then, looking around the room, Grima admired their handiwork. They stood there for what seemed like hours. And it seemed that way, because it was.

At 4:20 AM, Grima left Frederick's small home, close to the station. Then, they went to their own home, and showered. Before they got dressed, they put all of the clothes, as well as the hairnet, in the bathtub, and dumped a bottle of Bleach in it as well. Grima glanced at the time. 5:00 AM. It was too early to go to work, but too late to sleep. Grima doubted they'd've been able to sleep in the first place, but the point remained. They went to their room, dressed in their uniform for work, and went to the living room, where they sat on the couch, and remembered fondly the events that had taken place a mere 4 hours ago.