Photo Op Mega-Montage

Mission 2 Details:

“Nice to meet you K. Kenta Kame-san, my name is Page,” the sand shinobi would introduce himself, sticking his hand out to shake, only to be denied as the older man would raise his hand for a second, only to use it to adjust the cigar hanging from his mouth as he laughed to himself a bit. “Well listen here champ,” K. Kenta Kame-san would start, “That’s short for champion,” Page at this point was corpsing hard as to not anger the already obviously very irritable man, “I run the local newspaper, but since I’m going to be busy taking pictures for this issues front page story, the main article, my specific piece, I need you to go to the local ninja academy and take their pictures. These pictures will be used for two main purposes, to forge the IDs for the students to use, so make sure they are proper, and to put in the newspaper for their parents and potential future employers to see, so make damn sure that they are fucking proper, I got the kage on the line so listen or its both your ass and my ass.” Page would pause and look at the man blankly, shocked by his seemingly non-stop rant. “Do I look like the kind of guy whose time you should waste?!?” he would shout, “Get to work.” Page would cock his head, not dissimilar to the animal companion that would typically accompany him, drawing rolled eyes from the old man opposite from him as he asked, “That's good and all but I’d like to know where I can get my equipment first, seems pretty essential for taking these pictures,” trying to match the level of gusto that the owner of the newspaper had in a way to build up a sort of mutual respect between the two men. The newspaper editor would hear him out, and point to a duffle bag in the corner that was labeled “Mobile photography pack.”

“There you numbskull,” K Kenta Kame-san would respond, “and now get the hell out of my office,” ending it with a bit of a smirk, showing the beginning of a relationship sure to blossom between the two. The former farmer quickly went over to the corner and picked up the duffle bag, it was unexpectedly heavy, but no problem for the shinobi of the hidden sand given he was fairly buff, even by ninja standards. He lifted with his legs and put the strap over his opposite shoulder before departing from the studio. Page had left Sheffield behind in the shop, and was slightly surprised that he hadn’t shown back up, but he figured that he must have found some sort of way to keep busy while Page went on a bit of a solo adventure, while they both pretty obviously enjoyed their time together, if they spent exclusively time together it wouldn’t be too long before one of them got unreasonably angry with the other. It was slightly lonely to not feel the presence of the companion that had been by his side so long, but it was something Page would just have to get used to.

Eventually as he was passing through the streets he would go to where he was told the academy was, but, being unclear in the specifications of his directions, he came to the old ruins of the former ninja academy, which to say the least brought back some pretty serious memories. Page recalled his time when he was still with the village hidden in the leaf, back when he was a genin for the first time, back before he abandoned Konoha, back when he came to Sunagakure for the first time, not looking for a place to stay but looking for a way to make a name for himself in the way he had been taught, the way that he had been brainwashed into thinking that the only method of obtaining value was honor in battle, and the only way to obtain the honor was to be ruthless. He was at this place when it fell, hell, he contributed to it. He recalled when his team were dispersed during the destruction, how his comrade fell and how he took it personally. The things he did, the regrets he would forge for the future, they all filled his mind as he absorbed the scene, falling to his knees for a second. He was just a kid when it happened, but there was a deep part of his brain that wouldn’t allow this excuse to pass, that wouldn’t allow Page to ever get past the mistakes of his past, forcing him to wallow in it. He kneeled there, breaking down emotionally as time and pedestrians passed him by, a solid ten minutes of straight up depressive episode. Eventually, however, the former farmer recomposed himself, gathering back up the things that had fallen during his moment of weakness, brushing off the dirt and sand that had gathered on his clothes and restarting his quest, now explicitly stating that he was looking for the current ninja academy as opposed to the ruined one he had just broken down in front of. Over a fair bit of time, Page stumbled in front of the academy, this building properly in a solid form as opposed to the previous crumbled one, and went up the front stairs and through the large two doors that served as a main entrance. Walking up to the clerk at the front counter of the academy, a fellow sand shinobi, Page informed his comrade that he was supposed to be in charge of taking the pictures around there today and that he would be getting right on top of the matter. 
The clerk would respond, “Well that's good and all,” pausing for a second before starting up a question, “But I have to see ID, do you have any sort of identification? Can’t just let anyone into see the kids, safety and all that, you get me?” 

“Yeah, I dig, here’s my shinobi ID, as supplied by the kage herself, name is Page and typically I’m accompanied by Sheffield, but here I’m all by myself and I am tasked with taking pictures of all the academy students for both their Shinobi IDs and for the paper, name might be under K Kenta Kame-san, but hes just my boss” the newly made photographer explained to the uninterested clerk.

“Yeah, yeah, sure whatever,” the clerk would respond uninterestedly, “your documents look good, just make sure you don’t let any strangers in and that you make sure that the kids stay safe and are identifiable from their ID pictures. Ideally they should be presentable, but if this is not an option for whatever reason just take the picture and its existence will be their punishment. Pretty straight forward so just set up in the courtyard and students will be lined up for their picture.” Page would turn away and start to walk away before being stopped in his tracks, the clerk shouting at him from behind causing him to jump for a second. “Wait,” he would scream at the former famer, current cameraman, “before you leave there is a little opportunity for a bonus, in order to inspire the kiddos as to what shinobi can do when fully trained, after they become genin, I got these three little smoke bombs and well, if you wouldn’t mind using one for a quick disappearance, it would really make me and the kids’ day, plus you can take the other two as a sort of added bonus, please, I am sure it would go over well.”
Page would walk up to the table, inspect the smoke bombs after putting them in his hand, swirl them around a bit then place them back on the table before making his decision.
WC: 1,307 TWC: 1,809

As Page layed out the smoke bombs on the counter, put both hands on the table and stretched a bit, flexing his muscles, cracking his neck. The former farmer would run a hand, now picked up leaving an elbow in its place for support, through his beard, thinking and trying to show him weighing the options before throwing both arms to signify the spontaneity of a decision that he had already obviously made, as he accepted the offer visually by picking the smoke bombs back up then verbally, “Aw why the hell not, I’ll put on a bit of a show to leave em something to remember them taking the pictures by, anything I should be warned about in there by the way? Any kids that are apt to give trouble, dress ridiculously that sort of thing, I’d rather know what to expect you know?”

“Oh I don’t think anyone is too bad, you have the occasional shy kid but just say something to get their attention so that they face the camera, that is the most important bit, that they face the camera. That way people can see who they are hiring when it comes to the paper and when it's used as their shinobi IDs for them to be quickly approved and confirmed for identification purposes,” the clerk would respond.

“Sounds good, I’ll get to it then,” Page would conclude before departing for the last time to the courtyard. He opened up the bag, it was seemingly much larger on the inside than out, but that was probably just Page’s imagination or eyes playing tricks on him. He pulled out the tripod first, setting it up on top of a rock before pulling some earth over it to further lock it into place and make sure that it was kept steady and consistent throughout the process of taking the pictures. Next he took out the camera, locked it onto the tripod, raised it slightly to be more accurate to a kids height and picked up the last thing from the bag that he would need to use for this specific venture, a stool. It took Page a few different angles and locations placing the stool and testing with a slouched over self until he found a place he liked, placing the stool in front of the fountain that served a centerpiece to the whole courtyard. That’ll make for a just simply stunning shot, I’m certain of it. Bah what the hell, it’ll be average but I suppose that is all it needs to be, Page would think to himself as he looked through the viewfinder one last time, verify he liked it, then go alert one of the teachers to start bringing the kids out to have their photos taken.

In lines one at a time, the young academy students came. Page at first tried to differentiate each of them in order to forge a more personal connection, tried getting them to smile for the camera, but as the day went on it became more and more clear that the quickest, simplest, and by far most painful method was to tell them plainly to look into the lens, make sure their eyes weren’t closed in the shot, and move on to the next kid so that he could get out of there in a reasonable amount of time, afterall it wouldn’t be just his time that he was wasting, it would be the time of all the teachers, the students, himself, and perhaps most importantly the man he was doing all of this for, his boss so to speak, K. Kenta Kame-san.

Eventually he finished up taking the pictures of all the academy students, collected all of the contents from outside the bag and placed them carefully back in, making sure not to damage them, and zipped it up before gathering all of the students for a little demonstration about what laid ahead of them should they continue the path of the ninja. He had stored one of the smoke bombs up his sleeve while he was packing, set it off, let it drop to the ground and cloud his area before picking up the bag and using hiding like a mole to dash out of there without being seen.

-Mission Complete-

WC:712, TWC:2,521

Mission Numero 3

Page made his escape from the academy, using the earth beneath him as a cover while the smoke covered his top, slinking through the ground and just outside the front entrance with all his equipment. He tightened the pack which held all of said equipment around his shoulder, adjusting to get used to the weight and properly distribute it in order to prevent stress. He looked over to the man operating the front desk of the academy, gave a nod and started his way back to K. Kenta Kame-san’s office closer to the market district of the Village Hidden in the Sand. The former farmer passed through different parts of town on his way and seeing all the people spending time with others dragged his heart down a little bit. He wished he had someone with him, he wished he could find someone like that but until that he would be all by himself. Sheff helped a whole lot, but without him Page was just reminded of how lonely he was, he had Raleth but that was more of a teacher student role than actual friends, he had done missions with his fellow shinobi, but even still there, the shinobi he had accomplished so much with he would rarely meet again. Was it his fault? Did he do something to scare them off, maybe he was too abrasive, maybe he was too laid back, maybe he even was too worried all the time and that anxiety drove people away that didn’t want to deal with all of his shit, maybe a whole lot of things that he couldn't even possibly imagine in his wildest dreams, but all that he knew for certain was that at this moment, in this street, on this path to an angry newspaper editor’s studio, Page was alone.

This depressive thought and its following spiral was really getting to the former farmer, first he had the crisis about his time in Konoha, now he is facing a whole different kind of crisis when it comes to his state in Sunagakure. Today was not going particularly well for the older genin, hell, even thinking about his age as proportionate to his age reminded Page threatened to further plunge this deep dive of his own life and psyche, but the already sad man shut off all thoughts as opposed to think about it any further. He would meander like a zombie at first, but as he walked he would pick up more of a purpose as he would notice the sun passing in the sky, he would have to get back to K. Kenta Kame-san soon, or it’d be his ass getting chewed out for the rest of the night and at this point, and really all he wanted to do after all this was go home and lay down with his dog, have a nice relaxing cup of tea and sleep all his evaporating his intrusive thoughts, embracing the nights call so he could finally escape, retreating into dreams so cloudy he could not think clearly enough about the past and present to feel sad about them. It was as he was concluding this analysis of his wants and desires that he reached the entrance into the apartment building in which K. Kenta Kame-san’s studio was held and, swallowing for a second to process all it was he was thinking about, he walked inside and shed the anxious and depressed skin for the same calm demeanor he had always used as a defense tactic.

Page hopped up the stairs with greater celerity than he had shown in the street, appearing to those around him to be quite motivated and to be on top of his game, he entered the studio to see K. Kenta Kame-san peered over some of his notes and looking through different aspects of the paper, organizing articles, placing pictures to test out different layouts, just generally trying his best to construct the paper for tomorrow. 

“Hey boss,” the former farmer would gently yet firmly say as not to startle the obviously distracted older man who seemed too caught up in his work, “I have all the photos of the academy students, they are all in the camera in this bag ready for development and all that fun stuff, you know, the kind of stuff that separates the photographer from the editor, that kind of stuff,” closing his thought with his staple awkward back of head scratch, before handing over the bag and allowing his employer to look over all the contents and come to his own conclusion on the matter.

“Well Peter,” he would start, “My name is Page,” the genin would interrupt, “Well Page,” the editor would start up again, “this is honestly above mediocre stuff, not the best I’ve seen, but you show a natural knack for this kind of stuff and I imagine that, with the proper training, someday you will be a damn fine reporter, I’d like to take you under my wing a bit more and have you work on a few more missions if you’re interested, I am quite impressed with what you did so far so I’d like to keep you on board, what do you say to that? Would you like to give journalism the full shot?”

Page was stunned at first, he didn’t know how to respond, after being so far down in the dumps to have this abrupt of a tonal rising as he is built up by his boss, “I think I will, after all, why not, I like the work, it pays well enough, I don’t have to hurt anyone for it to go all according to plan, all in all I’d say this work is pretty nice, I think I’ll enjoy doing it!” Page’s eyes would dart side to side for a bit, showing the obvious signs of a man putting a lot of thought into what he was about to do, what he was about to say. After much consideration, he would open up, “Since I’m a full fledged journalist now… do you think I could get some sort of raise, or you know like a bonus? I don’t know a little extra something being thrown my way? That would be fantastic.”

K. Kenta Kame-san would burst out laughing across the whole room, almost coming to tears as the request just seemed that absurd to him, thinking it may have been a great way to reward his graciousness with a joke, but as the face on the former farmer fell more into his frame, he realized that the kid may have been genuine, “What.. are you serious? You already agreed to work here so I’ll pay you what I’ll pay you, now sit down and let's get your next job sorted. This one is real simple, so as long as you keep that pride of yours in check it should go over smoothly, I'll need you to work with a fellow photographer...”


WC: 1162, TWC: 3,683

Mission Details

Page rubbed his head, a migraine swirling around across the front of his brain, then dancing to the back. He would walk from the pretentious manor of his rich and obscenely annoying Co-Worker, Ensin, whom he could not help but hate as he was the most passive and pompous mother fucker in the village. The guy seemed like he may have had some potential, and like if maybe he could get over himself, he wouldn’t be that bad of a person. The guy had shown aptitude for the craft with his pictures, but it was pretty obvious he didn’t have much in the way of friends or a friend group, which led to his personality being as insufferable as it was. This anger would not subside but merely build up in his head, adding pressure and pressure as all the air wanted to escape, the sand shinobi needed some sort of way to vent, to release all the pressure building up, but alas, it was only 3 pm, too early to start drinking or quit, so it was off to the next job, hopefully focusing on the job would do a sufficient job of taking his mind off of all the troubles he was facing with the people he had to work with. 

The former farmer, newly minted journalist, made his way to his editor, K Kenta Kame-san’s, studio, looking to both tell him of the Job he has completed, and hopefully pick up a new job so that he could take his mind someplace that wasn’t dwelling on the people he hated, afterall if he focused too much on the topic he would end up just spiraling in self hatred for the third time that day, a possibility that Page was not looking to explore. He entered through the building same as normal and ascended the stairs to his boss’s address, knocking on the door before being told to “Enter already you sad piece of garbage,” by the lone editor, doing as he was said and opening the door himself, walking in and going to turn in the collage. Kame-san picked up the combination of photographs, and let out a bit of a laugh before spurting out, “The funny thing about this shit caked onto paper is that it's the best of his I’ve ever seen, honestly and frankly speaking here, thats some good work, I’m surprised you didn’t just outwardly kill the twerp to be honest,” Page showered in the adoration, greatly being thankful for all the praise and losing his point for a moment. His mind back on track, he asked the provider of his work a simple question, “Well now that that is done, is there anything else you want me to do today, days still young enough I should be able to take at least a few more tasks for the paper if you need em done.”
 K. Kenta Kame-san would look at him, look down to the loose assortment of manila envelopes around his desk, pointed at them, and stated, “What do you think numb skull, of course I need work done for the paper, not like we can just take a day off pal, you know why? Cause we arrive with the day! For Christ's sake, asking if I have work. Do I have work? Does a priest crap in the woods? Of course I have work you god damned imbecile!” His anger at this point seemed a lot more put on to Page than prior perception would dictate, maybe it had always been like this, maybe he was starting to like the genin from the village hidden in the sand, in any way, he was glad to have picked up on this bit.

“Well don’t keep me in suspense old man, tell me what the goddamn work is,” Page would retort, matching the falsely angry vibe from his editor.

“It’s about time you ask kid, what I got for you is a real simple job, so it should be right up your alley, that thick skull of yours can only handle so much after all,” the owner of the paper would laugh, cracking a smile as the bond between the two forged in fragile masculinity strengthened. “You have to,” he would continue, “take some shots of the new improvements made at a local shop, goes by the name of The Monkey’s Uncle Tea Shop, apparently they recently made some big changes and want you to take a picture, you’ll probably want to meet up with the owner when you get there, he’ll tell you all you need to know about the new places he wants featured.”

“Well I’ll be damned, K Kenta Kame-san, you may be surprised to learn that I am the one who actually did those renovations, I know everything to take pictures of so if you’d let me go right away I can come back with all of the pictures I know Raleth would want put up in the paper,” Page would respond enthusiastically.

“Well then what the hell are you still doing in my office?” the editor would ask, “Get the hell out of here and go to taking those fucking pictures!”

Page would grab a camera and do as he was told, getting out of there physically and dashing towards his home. He would get there and be confused to hear that Sheffield had also seemingly taken the day to explore the city, which struck him as odd, but Page went right to taking pictures, snapping photographs to his Sensei Sarutobi’s pleasure of things like the new stair railing, the bas relief of the monkey added over the fireplace, and much more. At the end of the photography session, Page would take all of the photos he took and look over them as an end project with Raleth over a cup of tea, where he would decide which ones were newspaper worthy, those that were trash worthy, and one for him to keep in his wallet as a memory.

WC: 1,002, TWC: 5,587
Another mission complete

Mission Details

Page talked a while with Raleth after taking the pictures, catching up on how the business was going, Page informing Raleth that he was currently working for the local paper, a job he was thinking of pursuing in a more permanent realm of occupation than his work with the tea shop. He would mention that while he may not be working as much at the tea shop, he would live there and work there for as long as he was a student to the wizened Sarutobi. He would not mention it, but he would personally wonder how long Sarutobi Sensei would want to keep him there, afterall should the chunin exams go well, he wouldn’t be a genin long, and he would no longer need someone to introduce him to the village and its workings. He wondered how much more the elder of his had to teach him, and he realized, the man he saw as his elder was not more than 3 years older than him, he started to realize that after the chunin exams, they may in fact not just be master and student, but instead equals, and hopefully one day soon they could see each other as such.

Page picked up the pictures and bid his teacher a good rest of his day, returning to the newspaper’s owner's studio with them in hand ready to turn them in and begin his next assignment. He would strut into K. Kenta Kame-san’s office nonchalantly, avoiding even knocking at this point as he knew it would have resulted in a ‘Come in already you damn punk,’ or something along those lines, a fate that while it didn’t seem exceptionally painful, did seem to waste a lot of time setting a needlessly aggressive atmosphere, so Page merely chose to avoid it, now being in a much better mood a better place in general. “Hey old man, I know you got work for me, after all we are the god damned news, there is always work to do, question I got for you is what do I have to do for this job, what do you have lined up? Still have plenty of time to get some jobs done,” the former farmer would ask his superior.

“Well Page, I am going to be honest here, and I’m going to give a preemptive apology, I hate to give you this assignment. If it is any consolation, it’s only because I know you can handle it and do a good job, I just wanted to say beforehand that I am truly sorry for having to do this to you. Just want that to be clear,” K. Kenta Kame-san would state, bizarrely plainly as compared to his usual theatrics. This, to say the least, alarmed Page, afterall when someone says this kind of thing it’s not exactly reassuring. He wondered for a bit what the most dangerous assignment he could get, maybe being sent to some sort of hostile environment, maybe that was why the usually remorseless boss of his seemed guilty.

“Come on Kenta, spit it out, you got me really worried here, am I going into a war zone or something? Just give it to me straight man, what is the assignment?” the obviously concerned shinobi would ask.

“I regret to inform you that your next assignment is…” K. Kenta Kame-san would start, before putting his hand into his head, “to photograph the birthday party of one Ensin Baryon, per request of his father.” He let out a big sigh, followed by one an equal one of Page’s whose concern rapidly changed to anger, then slowly from that to anger, “I know that this is a terrible task to do, but his father bought out a whole two page spread for the event, it's a big party and its shinobi themed. You will be taking photographs, and unfortunately you’ll also be the only real shinobi attending the event. As such the father has put in an extra request, he will give you some extra shuriken if you use one to set off the confetti, I know, it may be a bit on the degrading side, but at the end of the day it is good for the company, it is good for you, you’re just going to have to toughen up through it all, might have to go through hell for it, but the compensation should be worth it.”

Page collected all sorts of thoughts on how to reply to this, appearing entirely frozen to any observer for thirty seconds, before replying, “It’s fine, I’ll take the job, just know if I do this for you, next time he has a collage have him send in all the pictures and I’ll help him out… asynchronously so to speak. Having said this Page and K Kenta Kame-san gave each other a nod, the former turning around and walking out the door. He screamed inside his head as he lamented the torturous party that was to follow. He made his way down to the manor with great celerity, he wanted to get there and get things done, and that was the sum of it, no extra time necessary on this mission.

He entered the manor and was granted with the most glorious sight he could imagine, booze, surrounded by quite possibly the saddest, a man with no friends at the party, only himself, his family, the caterers, his financially compelled co-worker, and several hired impersonators of famous shinobi from history. As he made his way inside, Page was immediately greeted by the birthday boy, but as opposed to making any small talk, the former farmer cut to the chase. He asked what kinds of pictures the man wanted, and Ensin replied, “Oh, just make them candid, except for my pictures with the ladies here, make me look sexy in em.” So, swallowing his pride, Page did just that, and when it came time to make an exit, he took a shuriken, arced it just right, and threw it at Ensin, only for it to curve off and pop the confetti poppers. Quicker than they could fall to the ground, Page was out of there.

WC: 1029 TWC: 6,616
Mission Complete

Next Mission!

Page ran as quickly as he could away from that manor, camera in hand, knowing he did not want to spend another second interacting with Ensin, and wasn’t willing to give the rest of his bougie family a chance. Wasting no time at all he made it to the building where the newspaper was based, eager to wash the bad taste of time spent having to take “sexy and also candid” pictures of that ass clown Ensin from his mouth. He knew that whatever he ended up taking up tonight would most likely be his last or second to last mission of the night, so wishing to not end the night on such a downer, he entered the office with one request.

“K. Kenta Kame-san, you son of a bitch, you best keep your word on this deal,” Page would borderline shout as he burst into his office, “but I did it, I fucking did it. I did the mission, I went through hell and came back here to give you those pictures from Ensin Baryon’s party. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t fun, I may be a bit on the tipsy side cause goddamn that was the only way I think I could have made it through, but I took the pictures and I’ll be damned if they aren’t the greatest accomplishment for what he described of all god damned time.”

“What did he describe as the kind of pictures he wanted?” K. Kenta Kame-san questioned, breaking up the rant of his subordinate.

“Oh you want to know what kind of pictures he wanted? You really want to know what he wanted, cause I’ll tell you, but I swear you won’t want to know!?!” Page would ask rhetorically, quickly descending into a state of pure rant. 

“Er-” the editor would try to interrupt the rant before it could progress anymore, ultimately failingly.


“He wanted fucking casual candid photographs that made him look sexy with the women he was literally paying to be there, I swear to god it took everything I had not to literally end him, jesus fucking christ just get me another job so that I can move past this mother fucker, move past this job, and just forget about it as I get absorbed into the next, so just please tell me what my next job is so I can get it done and move on with my life,” the damn near lunatic genin would ramble.

“Well, since obviously a social prison was something you didn’t do so well with mentally when subjected to, I suppose putting you to just reporting on an actual prison wouldn’t be a terrible idea,” K Kenta Kame-san would say, Page not entirely following his logic, but agreeing anyway given that he wouldn’t have to work with Ensin again, stated, “Yeah sure, what do you want me to do at the prison, they need like mug shots or something?”

“That’s a good guess for an idiot, obviously they can take their own damn mug shots you knuckle dragger, what kind of prison couldn’t do that, I’ll tell you what kind, the kind you don’t want to be a part of the village that operates. No this is an assignment from the feudal lord, he wants us to run a story on Wind Country’s prison system, and along with it he wants photographs taken of all of the important key features of the prison, specifically speaking he wants you to take at least one photograph of the cafeteria, you know, that mess hall drenched in shit, make it look nice, make the vomit they call food look intentional. He wants you to take pictures of the cells, not too comfortable looking, but make sure any sharp jagged pieces of metal that could be used as weapons are strictly out of frame, we want to make this prison look safe after all, feudal lord doesn’t actually care if it is looking good, but he is likely to pay us more if he has less work to do on the actual prison. Next he’ll want you to take some pictures of the guard’s quarters, make sure it looks like they treat em well, the place really just runs through workers quickly so anything to make it look like the kinda place someone would volunteer to work, make sure it's there, and similarly make sure the brown mold is not. Finally, you’ll have to take a picture of some of the prisoners, this may prove to be quite difficult as they tend not to cooperate with anyone simply trying to take a picture of them, they tend to want the place look as bad as possible so you may have to go covert with your picture taking. Ideally speaking, you’d be able to take a picture of them while they are doing some sort of personal activity of growth, a PAG as they call them over in the prison system, these are the times where the prisoners do stuff like art, personal reflection, and primarily do all the sorts of little manual labor for the country at an extremely reduced price, like come one, how do you think every genin gets a ninja headband? It is cheap labor and supposedly gets them prepared for the outside world, how it does that is beyond me, but that is besides the point, your mission is to simply take all of these pictures, get them approved by the warden, then return here,” K. Kenta Kame-san would explain in detail.

“Well just two, first up, where is this place? I didn’t see any prisons inside the village and I doubt that it would be assigned by the feudal lord if it was strictly a village matter. I don’t want to spend the next few hours just looking for a fucking prison as I start to die of thirst and hunger, that sounds much less than fucking optimal to me, so I’d really like to know where I’m going,” the former farmer would ask, but at the same time demand.

WC: 1009 TWC 7,625

“Well if you’d hold your mouth shut for just one seco-” *cough.* K. Kenta Kame-san would interrupt himself with a heart cough, putting up a handkerchief to his mouth before staring at the spew, look disgusted, then hide it away. As much as he tried to hide it, Page knew the smell, the iron hue in the air that it left behind, it was blood. “Ehrm, as I was saying, if you would quit your yapping, I’d get the chance to tell you its only 3 miles northwest of the village, there is a path but it's mostly just beaten, if you just run that way long enough you should see some lights around the place as they keep it on strong lock most the time,” he would cough some more before trying to speak again, eventually getting out, “and your other stupid question for me is? Come on here Pager, I do not have all day, I have a business to run, the presses aren’t going to press themselves jag off.”

Page’s posture would shift as he’d worry about his boss’s health. Even if they acted constantly bitter and annoyed with each other, there was a real respect between the two, and the fact that K Kenta Kame-san’s health may be failing seemed like the largest caution Page had to worry about. He thought about the potential mortality of his new friend, but then refocused on the object on hand, “Right, the warden, my contact there, what do they look like, how will I know who they are? Could I at least get some sort of reference as to what to expect when I get there? Would just really help iron things out and make everything run smoothly if I know what I am getting into, you know?” Page would ask.

“You damn fool, you could have just asked that to the people at the prison itself, you think they don’t know what their own boss looks like? Jesus you have less faith in them than I have in you, and that is saying a whole hell of a lot about them, and says a whole lot of shity things about my opinion of you. Anyway all I know about em is that she is a her, and that she is supposedly very strict in maintaining the work of the prisoners, that is about it. She has them dig holes when they aren’t doing anything else, some sort of weird craze about uncovering something in there I hear, but that is just a rumor that has been thrown around.

Page nodded, picking up all of the information, albeit limited, that he could on the warden before grabbing his camera, putting into a secure pack, slinging it over his shoulder, cracking his knuckles and neck, and making his way for the gates. He would wave to the gate guards as he passed, bidding them a good night shift as the sun would begin to set. Tightening his scarf around his neck and face, a precautionary practice, before he would step out of the bio-dome, and face the non climate controlled weather of the desert, a harsh heat followed by a harsh cold as the sun became lotto the night sky. He was blasted with sand, but determined to get there, he would dash through it, roughing up his skin something fierce but allowing himself to cut significant time off of his trip, arriving at the prison with at least half an hour still left in the day. It was a large facility, huge fences decorating the outside with holes dug every five feet, each hole the same, a circle, five feet wide, five feet deep. Page would search around the fence perimeter and eventually find an entrance, placed conveniently behind three layers of fence. The former farmer, current journalist, would get the attention of one of the many guards, who would start to let him in after he flashed his shinobi headband and identification. Walking through the gates, he would hear the gears clank as he passed into the area, feeling like they were locking him in, but as he gazed at them he realized that he could probably pretty easily scale them if he couldn’t simply jump over them if need be.

Into the concrete prison the genin of the village hidden in the leaf entered, going up to the front desk and being handed a questionnaire that asked pretty reasonable stuff. Name: Page, Occupation: (after some thought) Shinobi, reason for visit: Mission regarding taking photographs of the status of different parts of the prison and the prisoners. He handed the survey back to the guard at the front. The guard asked without reading the paper he just accepted, “So what are you up to here, why are you coming to a prison this late in the night?”

“Village has me working for the paper, and they are running a story on the conditions of it, you mind taking me to the warden so they could give me a walk around of the place, want to make sure I avoid any unsavory spots and hit all the important places, just have to take some pictures for the report, I won’t be the person actually writing the story based off said pictures, but it is just what I was tasked with doing,” Page would reply.

“Alright,” the guard responded, nodding along but not fully understanding, “I’ll take you to the lady-boss, she’s outside with some of the prisoners right now overseeing some PAG, they got some prisoners out there just digging holes till the sun comes up, supposedly it builds muscle or something and that adds onto the character and rehabilitation, but if you ask me the lady is out there looking for something, something valuable. They throw around it might be some sort of buried treasure, but honestly I think it’s probably something significantly more personal than that, but I wouldn’t know. Anyway, if you follow me I’ll take you out to the fields.”

WC: 1005, TWC: 8,630

Page made his way through the asylum like hallways of the prison, a noticeable tracking of sand building up in noticeable areas of footprints, with a notable increase in sand accumulated as the two of them, the former farmer and the guard, got closer to the doorway out. Eventually they broke through the concrete in the form of a doorway, entering the arid desert once more as an open field perforated with holes awaited them. A woman in figure was seen standing over them, with the occasional head popping over each hole. From here he could hear her yelling with one of the inmates. The inmate had said, “I’m tired of digging these hole warden,” to which she responded, “Well that’s too damn bad, you keep digging!” which got a “well excuse me,” from the inmate followed by a “you’ll thank me one day” from the warden, closing out the conversation. Page would approach the woman, announcing his presence before getting too close, shouting over the howling winds of the desert at night, “Howdy there! My name is Page, I work with the village and the paper, we have been commissioned by the local lord to take some pictures around here but I wanted to have you take me around the place and approve of all the pictures. That work alright with you? Just want to make sure you know?”


 “Well,” she would begin to reply, matching the same increased noise to get over just how loud the wind in the night was around the desert, “I suppose I can call it for the night for these folks as I take you on a tour of our facilities, here, I’ll grab some guards to make sure no prisoners get an,” and she would put air quotes around especially around this next part, “smart and entrepreneuring ideas.” The warden would gesture to one guard, “Take these inmates to their cells! You,” she would say, gesturing to a grouping of two more guards, “yes both of you, come with me and our guest and escort us through this wonderful god damned prison, or both of you are fired. “Sir yes sir,” all three would would state attentively, the one doing as he was told, pulling the prisoners out of their holes and gathering them all up into one group as they went through the door and presumably back to their cells for the night. The other two guards immediately sprinted to get to the flanks of the warden and the shinobi, and with a hand outstretched telling them to walk, they walked, stretched four people wide.


The warden would ask him as they entered the shelter from the winds where exactly it was that the reporter would need to take pictures, and intending to start off with the least offensive places first, the former farmer would ask to be taken to the mess hall to start. “I think it would probably be best to see the cafeteria before dinner, after all then we avoid the mess of the dinner crowd, and get to see the food right as it’s being cooked! As fresh as it could be.”


That last line caused both of the guards, as well as the warden to break out into laughter, a joke that seemed lost in Page, but was soon explained as the warden would tell him that, “I can guarantee you not a lick of what they call food in there is by any means fresh, freshest and best tasting food you could likely find in there would be the starving rats, and those guys won’t touch the stuff. I suggest you avoid any shot where food may be visible, and I use the term food very loosely.” Both her and the guards would give a hearty chuckle as Page would enter the cafeteria and get a wide waft of what was coming through the kitchen, almost vomiting as he dove to the nearest trash can just in case. Eventually his stomach and nose would acclimate, and it would settle, allowing him to begin taking photographs of the area without potentially damaging his camera. He slung the sling around and picked up the picture procuring package from inside the pack, lighting it up and inspecting the view finder to ensure it survived the trip to the prison, looking through to find a crisp image, he would test the zoom before he would start framing the pictures. 


There were many tables araying the area, almost all of them stained with food and dirt that would never come out, but in the back, near the windows, there were a patch, nine by nine, of tables and chairs in near pristine condition, their only flaw being that they had been bleached by the sun. Page would wonder why these tables in specific would not have a scratch on them, but he quickly realized that it was the fact that they were window seats, in the desert, directly under a skylight. Approaching them, he touched his thumb to them, immediately and instinctually taking it off as even in the night the tables were hot enough to cause a blister on someone with less tough of skin. The reason behind the shot being good, however, didn’t matter, all that mattered was that it was a good shot, so Page took it, capturing the tables, and catching just enough of the skylight for the place to look nice, but not enough to tell them it is a boiling pit of hell. He would take a bit more just as security before handing them to the warden, who stated, “Wow, you somehow got a nice picture out of this dump, keep up that work and I might have a bit of some side work for you,” before turning, the guards following suit, and asking, “Now, where is next for your picture taking, we’ll want to get out of here before the dinner rush?”

“First off, thank you so much for the compliment, secondly, I think next on the list is the guard quarters, after that I need to take pictures of some of the cells while they are empty, so I figure we can spend time taking the right picture of the guard quarters, then while the prisoners, er, I mean inmates, are eating, go in and take pictures of the cells, then I could maybe even get some pictures of prisoners inside the mess hall,” Page would explain, laying out his entire plan for the lady.

“Very well,” the warden would reply, “let's get going to the quarters then, men, pick up the pace.” They would lead the Sand Shinobi to a room, mostly open, that allowed guards to rest, change, relax after a long shift, and talk. The place was seemingly split down the middle in grime, on one half, you had the entertainment section, complete with a coffee maker, a television, a comfy sofa and the lockers of all the men, on the other you had the bathing, beds, and changing areas, which was effectively a pig sty. Taking in the scene, Page would climb through clothes to get to the one made bed, set his camera so it picked the bed up on the bottom, and nothing else of the messy side, but got a full view of the good side and hit snap a few times, handing it off to the warden who again complimented the photojournalist and mentioned a job for after he takes a picture of the cells and prisoners. 

Taking a picture of the cell was surprisingly easy, as they simply used an empty and unused cell that had already been cleaned as a baseline, before moving back to the mess hall were page would take a picture of the prisoners as a whole, before noticing the disgusting food was in frame and just taking as many headshots as he could, in the case that they noticed him and made a weird face to rough up the shot. “Well it looks like I’m done with all my obligations for the lord and the village, what was this extra work you were speaking about?” Page would ask.

“Oh it’s very simple stuff, I simply want you to take a picture of me, nothing too hard, that I can hang up in my office, something really nice and kind of intimidating, a real portrait you know. Do a good job and I’ll throw in an extra 1000 ryo as a bonus,” she would respond, this offer catching Page’s attention.

“Well if you’d follow me, I know just a great spot for a portrait,” Page would respond, leading her outside to back where the first met. Page would align a shot capturing the warden with the moon directly behind her, her breath visible in the cold air and the front lighting from the prison perfectly aligning her face. Again taking a few shots as safeties, he would show it to her to which he would receive a gasp and the warden stating, “I love it, here take your reward, you more than earned it.”

WC: 1,516 TWC: 10,146