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01:43 PM

Gil grimaced as he pushed his way through the gathering crowd on the sidewalk, flashing his fake Criminal Photographer I.D. badge to the local police officers, he pulled his camera out of his shoulder bag and began snapping pictures of the grisly murdered trio.

"Hey, haven't they already sent one of you photo techs here already?" asked the younger looking cop. "He left here only a few minutes ago."
"Well, they like to send two of us, you know, get different angles, perspectives, all that crap," Gil replied nonchalantly, looking every part the disgruntled employee who just wanted to get his work done and get home. Gil was good at fooling people, at making them believe he was exactly what he said he was. Being a freelance photographer who mainly sold to high paying newspapers and magazines, it paid to be a good actor. So Gil was usually always able to get the money shot.

"Step aside, we are taking over the investigation." Ah, the ever shifty Okayami Corporation. Gil sighed as he took a few more shots. One of their goons took notice.
"Hey, didn't you hear the man? This is our investigation now, and that means no flash photography." The muscular 6'5" man grabbed the camera from Gil's hands and smashed it on the ground.

"Aw man, that was a $2000 camera, I'll be expecting full compensation!" Gil backed up as the goon advanced towards him. "Should I just send the bill to your address in the phone book?" As the goon lunged, Gil ran.

A couple of blocks away he paused, slightly out of breath, and starting grinning. Putting his hand inside his jacket pocket he felt the small hidden digital camera inside that had been taking photos every 3 seconds. He let out a little chuckle, before shivering at the cold.

Still smiling, he decided to go for a drink at the tavern he sometimes frequented. Pulling his thick winter coat around his rake-thin body he made his way through the snow, snowflakes drifting down to settle in his dark brown curly hair.

Just as he entered the tavern, he noticed a bar fight, starting. He didn't think he would need to get involved until he saw the innkeeper get backhanded into the wall. For Gil, that was enough.
"Alright boys, I think that's quite enough wouldn't you say?" Gil moved firmly between the two. "We're all just here to have a good time aren't we?"

"Get-outta- ma-way," the particularly drunken one slurred as he tried to crash tackle Gil. Gil who had learned to be rather quick on his feet, was able to slide out of the way quickly while the man fell flat on his face. Grinning widely, Gil turned to the other man, who wasn't quite as drunk.

"You need to mind yer own business," he growled, reeking foul breath.
"Well you need to stop creating havoc in this here tavern." Gil replied, sharply, wrinkling his nose at the smell. "And what have you been drinking? Methylated spirits?"
The man's face went even redder as he swung his fist at Gil, who quickly ducked, landing a swift blow to the man's solar plexus. Choking slightly, the man fell to his knees, before struggling to his feet again, gasping like a fish.
Gil just shook his head sadly, "I just wanted a damn drink." He moved aside to miss the man's punch, but not fast enough. His fist grazed Gil's face, smarting the area below his eye.
Gil, however, used this opportunity to grab the man's arm and twist it behind his back, putting his head in a headlock, cutting off the man's air, who without oxygen, soon slumped to the ground.

Gil sighed and stepped over the unconscious bodies. Although he didn't look it, Gil was a good fighter, being quick and light helped a lot, plus he often got caught in sticky situations and so had learned a trick or two over the years.

He turned to the innkeeper. "Are you alright?" he asked smiling at the older woman.