[Arthur Morgan]

what time tomorrow does this competition end? c:

Likely late. It can definitely be late tomorrow if you need it to be. :3

Can it please be postponed to Tuesday? I'm away caravanning and I get home tomorrow. I don't have a good enough signal to finish my form and I won't have time tomorrow.

[Sabatea]

Yes. I'll postpone the ending until Tuesday. That will probably work out better for me to judge anyway XD

[Sabatea]

As per request, the extras word limit has been changed to 800. ^^

[imakilljoywannabe]

Funny name, huh? It's actually rather fitting, given I'm an
investigative journalist. I'm told that it means "author" in Maori.

...What else do you want me to say?

I see myself as practical, and curious to find the facts. Unfortunately I'm not much one for socializing;
talk to any of my coworkers and they'll confirm that. I know some people value close relationships, but
I'm more comfortable on my own. I seem to scare everyone away anyways. I've been told more than on
ce that I'm cold, but to me I'm merely being rational. I don't have the time to invest in anyone else; I h
ave a hard enough time keeping up with my own needs. If I could, I'd work all day and all night. It's fas
cinating to comb through the meticulous notes of detectives- you should try it sometime. It's just as m
uch fun to actually write the story; although, I have to admit that dumbing it down for the general publi
c can frustrate me. My meticulous writing style calls for perfect detail, but apparently nobody wants to
read that. So, I'm usually forced to boil it down to the bare essence and use as few words as needed to
get the point across. Even though my originals usually go unpublished, I keep a collection of them in m
y home. Every so often I'll pull them out, relive old cases and memories, and see how I've improved. I've
actually solved a puzzling cold case or two by coming back to it months later with fresh eyes. My quick
judgements on temperament and usefulness of others has also been most helpful to the police; I've eve
n helped solve a couple of their current cases. I suppose in my line of work my ability to think logically
and discern lies from truth comes in handy quite often. It's a gift, I guess. Journalism is supposed to be
based on facts, despite whatever gossip is published nowadays. Integrity is one of my most important vi
rtues, both at work and at home. I would never betray the trust of those who read my articles, or those
around me. With so many liars on the streets, why do we need more in positions of power? I may not be
mayor, or chief of police, or even editor, but I know my work influences others. They read what I write
and blindly trust me, even though I've never given them a solid reason to. To throw that away... the inh
erent trust that comes with naïvety to the ways of so many journalists now... I'd rather give up my life.

You want to know about my first story? Well, alright. It was quite the doozy to me at the time. I was new at the paper, and they had assigned me to some crummy article about the winner of a recent beauty pageant. Don't get me wrong, that's all fine and dandy, but it's not particularly exciting. I was on my way home after a long day of listening to the unceasingly peppy voice of the champion when my radio buzzed. I had purchased a police radio only a few days prior, hoping that I might be able to pick up something juicy to prove my worth at the new workplace. It started pretty routine; a homicide, victim died by gunshot at close range. I almost turned it off, when I heard something that made this crime just a little more interesting: the victim was the mayor. Well, as you can imagine I hurried over, and given the late hour I was the first on the scene. I was no better than any other reporter, I'll admit. I badgered anyone who came near me with questions, looking for anything I could latch on to for an article. I suppose they all got fed up with me, since the officer in charge finally came over to make a deal with me. They didn't have much information or any leads yet, but I could look at the scene for five minutes if I left straight after. Let's be real here- what journalist wouldn't have jumped at the chance for such exclusive, insider information? When I came in they were still tidying up; I wasn't allowed to touch anything or move more than a foot from my designated spot. Still, it was enough. I took some notes about the scene, making sure to document everything down to the tiniest detail. All too soon my five minutes were up, and I was booted out. The aches and exhaustion from earlier were gone, replaced by adrenaline-fueled energy. I sat down to type, and wrote out a long article about the scene and what I could gather from what I'd seen and been told. When I finished, I was so proud. That is, until I reread it. There was something missing, something I couldn't quite put my paw on. I decided to wait before submitting the article. It was a risk, I knew it. The press would be all over this by tomorrow. But, something in me said to pause. I was right. The next day, article after article came flooding in about the mayor's death. However, there was something missing there, too. The articles were all the same. With so little to go on the journalists were forced to rely on facts alone, which made for a bland, dull article. To be perfectly honest, when I read them I was reminded of my own piece. I waited and waited, hoping for some new information to come in to round out my article, to make it worth the trouble of reading it. At first, it looked as though my patience would not be rewarded. A whole week went by and there was no new information. Just as I started to lose hope, there was a knocking on my door. Oddly enough, it was the same policeman that had allowed me to see the scene of the crime. He asked if he could come in, and once settled asked if I remembered seeing the crime scene. Of course I did- not only was it less than eight days prior, but it had been occupying my every thought since I had first heard of the homicide. The detective pursed his lips and fidgeted, before finally requesting my notes from the scene. Of course I asked why; he said that they were out of leads, and were hoping that perhaps I had documented something that their technicians had missed. I obliged, and upon review of my notes, it turns out I had in fact caught something interesting. Just above the door frame was a tiny mark, scratched into the paint. M.R. The detective hurried out, and only later did I learn that in fact that was a signature from one of the most prominent gangs in the nearby area. The signature led them to question the members, and eventually they nabbed the ringleader- all from a simple note. After that, I got my story- and a better position in the paper. Now I get to write interesting columns every day, and sometimes I'm even called in as an assistant detective for the police force.

Font credit: xXx | Art credit: Me (imakilljoywannabe) | Coding credit: Me (imakilljoywannabe) | Pencil credit: xXx

[LucidDreary]

What time will this Comp. end?

[Sabatea]

You'll have until midnight, Eastern Standard Time. ^^ I likely won't be able to judge this for a while,sorry guys... I'll get to it as soon as I can.

[LucidDreary]

Best of luck, everyone! ^^

[zoomzoombadaboom]

Good luck!

[Yodel]

Good luck!

[Arthur Morgan]

Good luck guys!