Fabricant451 — Roleplayer Guild

Blake Mitchell

It truly was amazing what one could see through the view of a lens; it was rare the time when Blake got to put her degree to actual use. When she walked at graduation, nearly tripping as her too-long gown made it difficult for her to walk up the three little steps and across the stage, she never imagined that her camera would be used to capture adults and teenagers fooling around in plain view of a window or in public. Like any sane photography student, she had assumed she'd be going along with hard hitting journalists, snapping pictures of important figures or slapping a filter onto a photo of a third world country and getting nominated for a Pulitzer. Hell, she'd even have settled on wedding photos; those at least contain people at one of the happiest moments of their life. 

But even though her current, often thankless, profession was no place for someone who initially took photography as a seemingly blow off elective, some times it definitely had its perks; and this was absolutely one of those times. Three shots stood out as she looked back over the new additions to her gallery. The first was the young kid holding a pair of keys; Blake hadn't been there for the start of it, but there weren't a lot of reasons to hold a pair of keys next to a limo reported to have an armed suspect inside. It was a solid shot, if she could say so, enough for a slighted victim to recall the face should the need arise...but not dead on to be a full shot of his face. The second was the plates of the limo, though she'd be sorely disappointed if the officer on duty didn't get those himself. Still, it couldn't hurt. 

The third was a simple, yet poignant (in Blake's mind anyway) shot of the on site officer with his pistol pointed at the suspect moments before the knife was dropped. That one was going to go on the wall. Or on social media. Or both, such was the power of modern technology. What Blake didn't notice was the tinted figure also in the shot, seated in the limo. But she was too busy admiring her handiwork and shot composition.

Still, despite the scene ending and the scanner picking up the all clear, Blake had her doubts. Enough so that when the cop had pulled away and the limo drove off in pretty much the same condition, nothing a bit of buffing couldn't fix anyway, Blake instead drove towards the scene, pulling her vehicle up beside the third party, the keyholder. Keymaster. 

Blake whistled to catch the boy's attention, if her car wasn't enough to do so. 

"Pretty ballsy move, kid, you do that professionally?" She spoke from the driver's seat, through the open window. "Next time, though, you might wanna try a bat to the windows. That's when they know you're not fucking around. Keying a car is an annoyance. Breaking a windshield is a message."

Blake chuckled at her own pseudo-sage advice. What did she know about bashing windows in other than what she had seen in the movies. Still, there was something...off about the whole scenario and right now the kid was her only bit of information...and how better to get them talking than by using humor. 

She also learned that from a movie.
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