This, in my mind, was mainly going to involve Gumshoe. However, I think I jumped around a little too much, to the point where I may have said things that don't exactly... match up with previous chunks of text. Plus, it seems to leave Gumshoe himself for a little bit, so... Hm. Well, that's what I get for typing something up on the fly while at college, eheh...

In any case, I hope this isn't a -terrible- read, though it could be much better. Just a short story for Gumshoe, and the thoughts that cross his mind while on the clock.

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It was never fun, doing the things that he had to do. It was never a pleasurable experience to visit the sites of the deceased, to examine the wake left behind by one filled with cold blood. Detective Gumshoe, a prime detective in his precinct (or so he liked to think of himself as), simply put, did not enjoy having to do his job. Well, of course, he enjoyed that thrill one would get from being a part of the branch of law enforcement, and he most certainly loved to do his part in the fight for justice. It was just that certain things, certain... mandatory duties appeared to drag down the experience. Duties that generally involved visiting the scene of a dreadful murder, the main site where one had lost their life, and their only connection to this world.

Upon first arriving at the crime scene, the first thing Gumshoe would always pick up on was the scent of death hanging in the air. Though sometimes minute, depending on how long the scene had been in place, one could always tell that it was there. If not that, then the essence of foreboding; an ominous aura hovering above the heads of law enforcement. The good detective, by now, had grown numb to the dreaded feelings over time as he had covered more and more crime scenes such as this one. It was, after all, a part of the job.

Once Gumshoe had finished with comparing notes with the other officers, and taking in the new discoveries made in his absence, he would follow one of his fellow officers to the exact spot of death. This would probably be the part that the good detective most dreaded... Who wouldn't? There's nothing like seeing a fellow human being, cut down earlier than they were meant to be, one who had used to be standing upright, breathing the Earth's air, just like Gumshoe himself was currently doing... living...

Sometimes, the detective would stop to think... To think about just who would have the mind to strip someone from their most precious treasure. What kind of person could look themselves in the mirror, and tell their reflection that they were going to kill... To destroy one's life, for -good-... Gumshoe would think about the kind of person who could go through with such an act... And, as always, he would be at a loss. There was never a good answer for something like that. Perhaps it was meant to be like such. However the case may be, no amount of pondering or discussing could undo what would have happened; Lying before the detective on the cold, hard ground was the husk of a soul, no longer inhabited, stripped of life. Empty...

And for this heinous act, someone was responsible.

With his teeth grit, and his large brows furrowed, the good detective would bellow out orders to his fellow officers, to find anything and everything they could. Anything that would be of value to a case against the prime suspect in the case, whoever it may be. The broken links, the hidden ties... All that would need to be mended in a court of law to bridge that gap towards the truth! Gumshoe would walk hastily from one point to the next, checking up on further developments as he marked down notes and theories; information that would possibly soon become -fact-. With a large suitcase, the evidence collected from the scene would be stored, and questions would be answered from this ammunition against crime. Was it a gun? Were there any fingerprints? How did the death occur? At what time? Could the criminal be far away? Where are the witnesses? Who did it?

In the court of law, one must remember that evidence is the best ammunition that one could ever have, and for Detective Gumshoe, this meant being -flawless- so that the Prosecution may have an airtight case, to put away the ones who went through with the horrible act that had been committed this day. To the detective, nothing was more important than the trust between the prosecutors and the precinct. To break that trust would not just hurt both parties, but the case as a whole, and the cold-hearted killer at the center of all of this... could get away... Of course, it would be prejudiced to say that he who would be on the witness stand the next day would most -definitely- be the killer... But in a situation like this, who could take the risk of going in unarmed?

For Gumshoe, the detective who takes great pride in his work, getting all of the necessary pieces of the puzzle together is a great step towards the goal of finding the truth. He finds the evidence, and those lawyers... The Defense, and the Prosecution... go into the courtroom, and engage in a battle of wits, on that would ultimately lead to the answers that everyone seeks... The Truth...

As the officers scurried about, collecting everything that they could around the crime scene, Detective Gumshoe would look on, and in his mind, would only hold one particular goal in mind; To ensure, that with his help, justice would be served, and the deceased could rest in peace with the knowledge that their assailant had been discovered...

The last wishes of the dead would be fulfilled... and that Detective would ensure the success of that mission.

wow this is really good pal

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