On The Hunt for Crime

Jacob Bonheur was in his element. Striding the crime-ridden streets, searching malevolence and dastardly plots wherever they might lurk in the deepest of shadows. Taking out thugs and criminals with his sheer intellect and his charming skills. His trench coat sweeping behind him heroically as he glided the length of the nest of crime.

So maybe it was Monday, and maybe it was 10:00 AM. Maybe he was also looking for somewhere to eat, and possibly he couldn't get rid of this damn cat. It had been following him all day, the straggly, mangy stray with the calico pattern. He had yelled at it, shooed it, and attempted to coerce it into leaving. All to no avail. Every time he stopped walking, it would rub its dirty little furry body on his nice clean slacks and meow scratchily. There were already dirty muddy stains where it had rubbed on him, and his patience was wearing thin. Past shops and a local park, to the open front of a bistro. As he attempted to enter, the man in uniform at the door informed him he couldn't bring his cat inside. While trying in his French-imbibed English to explain it wasn't his, someone tapped his shoulder. He turned.

The ace detective spun at the sound of a voice behind him. The "welcome" carpet under his feet spun with him, and spun the man he had just been arguing with as well. A great deal of spinning happened at once, spinning the figure who had spoken to him also. Jacob fell on his new slacks and grabbed the menu the man in uniform had been holding, taking him down with him. This fall was accompanied by the whoosh of a scythe over his head, cutting off five or six split ends. The detective mad a rather undignified noise in protest and scrambled to his feet, running into the bistro for cover. Pushing irate waiters and horrified patrons aside, he barreled right into the kitchen.

Shouts of protest and frustration echoed in the kitchen as he pushed his way through, knocking a unfortunate dishwasher right into the large sink face-first.

Kitchen things were flying everywhere, staff was bustling about trying to get past the two intruders, and Jacob was suddenly trapped. The door that had seemed unlocked from a distance was in fact locked, and he turned with a jerk. The reaper was pointing a gun at him. He dropped to his knees, bullets whizzing over his head, and began crawling to dodge bullets. Right into the walk-in freezer. Shivering, he pulled the door closed and slid behind it as fast as he could. Everything was boxed, there were no weapons in sight. Except...

The door opened. Jacob popped out from behind it, rolling on his stomach on the metal cart they rolled into the freezer. Waving a large salami stick and slapping anything in reach. He barreled past whoever was in the doorway, and rolled right into the enormous sink face-first. Sputtering and wiping water from his face,he scrambled out of the sink and tore towards the restaurant entrance.