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Post by Samantha Vaccari on Feb 24, 2014 23:04:59 GMT -6
SAMANTHA LEE FRYE
TWENTY-SIX//FEMALE//GAY//ENHANCED VISION//POLICE OFFICER//JENNA COLEMAN
POWER INFO:
Sam's eyesight is heightened beyond what the normal human can see. This means she can pick up on small details that would otherwise go unnoticed by others, and still clearly see details from distances where normal eyesight starts to blur.
Because of this, Sam is more sensitive to light than the average person. She cannot use this ability constantly and it is most effective used in small dosages, however she can use it for extended periods of time. If she uses it for too long, she can risk damaging her eyesight.
//She was my hero. Strongest person I ever knew.
He heard the door click open. The thump of her backpack hitting the floor before the small girl came running into the living room at full speed. Looking up, he saw that wide grin that showed his daughter was excited about something.
“Da'!” She held up a sheet of paper her small hand clutched to, waving it around to capture his attention. “Look what I did today!” She didn't notice the distant look in her father's eyes; young children were often oblivious to such matters, and Sam was no exception to the rule.
“See?” She held the paper up. Her chest puffed out in pride at the Crayola artwork in her hand. “I drew us!” The brunette pointed to the paper with her free hand. “There's you, Mama and me!” Her grin grew as her father took the paper to look at it.
“This is very nice, sweetie.”
Sam nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly that the scribbles on the paper were comparable to Van Gogh. “Where's Mama? I wanna show her, too!”
It was only then that the girl picked up that something was wrong. Her father didn't smile. He put an arm on her shoulder, lips pressing into a hard line.
“Sam, come here. Sit down.” He lifted the small girl up with ease, sitting her down on his lap. Her eyebrows knit together. She was confused.
"Da', where's Mama?"
//Thought it was genius.
Detention Slip
Student's Name: Samantha Frye
Teacher: Miss Knight
Time of Detention: October 12 Recess
Reason for Detention: Student unzipped sweatshirt in the middle of reading time. Revealed Spider-Man shirt and exclaimed "My spidey senses are tingling!" and ran out of the classroom.
//I still carry it with me.
“Where is it!?” The room had been flipped upside down. Every inch of it inspected by the fuming brunette. Her fingers twitched in irritation as she scanned her room again. She checked everywhere, but it had to be somewhere.
“Sam.” Her father knocked on the door before pushing it open. He looked tired. He always did. Becoming Chief of Police put a toll on the single father. He was busier than ever.
Sam, however, wasn't focused on him, but rather was lifting up her mattress up off the frame, hand running along the box frame. “Sam.”
She always did this. Block everything out around her when she was focused on something. He let out a groan.
“Samantha!”
The brunette's head snapped towards him, her dark eyes reflecting the irritation she clearly wore. “What?"
He held up his hand, in between his pointer finger and thumb held the Boston Police name tag. Her mother's. “It was in the living room.”
“There's a scratch on it.” Sam reached out, taking into her hand. She hadn't noticed it before, because it was barely noticeable. She could see all the details on it. The lines of her father's thumb print. The texture of the engraved name in the metal spelling out D. Frye.
//Comic books don't buy themselves.
Detention Slip
Student's Name: Samantha Frye
Teacher: Dean Pelki
Time of Detention: Janurary 27 - 29, 2001 2:15PM - 3:15PM
Reason for Detention: Selling Mountain Dew to students from her locker.
//He never asked me to join the track team again.
“Sammmmmm.”
“No.”
“I didn’t even say anything yet!”
She heard an audible sigh. Overdramatized. The brunette couldn’t stop the grin from forming across her lips as she turned to face the boy. “I told you, I’m not joining the track team.”
He groaned, running a hand through his crew cut hair before shaking his head. They had this conversation over a dozen times by this point. But that wasn’t why he was bothering her.
She caught sight of the twitch of his lip. It wasn’t the normal twitch he had when they usually spoke. It was different. He was acting different. “I’m not asking you about the team.”
Sam figured that out by now, and her eyebrows rose out of amusement. He was acting strange. Her grin grew as she noticed the microscopic beads of sweat form at his temple. A sign of nervousness.
“What, then?” She assumed he was in trouble or needed help with something.
“Go to the dance with me?”
“…What?” She knew what he said, but it was the only response she could offer. In theory, there was no reason to say no. He was captain of the track team. Charming. Even liked comic books.
“I said—“
“I’m dating your sister.”
//People are shocked when they hear he arrested me. I'm not.
UNIFORM SUMMONS AND COMPLAINT
[]Criminal [x]Civil Penalty []Arrest []Bail $____ []Traffic Violation
State of Massachusetts/Municipality of Boston
Frye Samantha L.
Mailing Address: 67 Forrest Ave
City/Town: Boston
State: MA
Zip: 02110
DoB: 11/25/87
Hair: BR Eyes: BR Height: 5'4" Weight: 118 Sex: F Race: W
Offense Committed On: 07/04/2002 Time: 22:40
At: 621 Huntington Ave
City: Boston
Violation: Breaking and Entering
Officer's Name: Frye Alexander H.
//Bastard hit me with his Mustang. Can you believe that? A fucking Ford.
Medical Report
Name: Frye, Samantha Lee
Date of Birth: November 29, 1987
Date of Incident: November 12, 2002.
Type of Injury: Gastrocnemius strain (right). Dislocated shoulder (left). Road rash.
Cause of Injury: Hit by car.
//The first time I saw her. I don't think she was impressed with me.
She sat on the couch. Cast bound leg resting on the table. Crutches thrown aside in frustration. Bag of chips in her lap. Rain. Pouring, actually. Made it easier to handle the inability to do anything with useless leg. Even had a calming effect on the brunette.
Dark eyes focused on the television. Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. It held her interest.
Until she heard the door unlock.
Her eyes shifted focus, catching sight of equally dark ones. Blonde hair. Tattoos. Hot. Right. She was getting a roommate.
“Hey.”
//He always said "Don't cry." when I was growing up.
He visited. He never visits.
“Let's get lunch.” Yeah, okay. He even went through the effort to pick her up at the dormitories. The brunette wasn't even sure if he'd even seen them before this moment.
And then he saw her. It was barely a moment in passing. But it was enough.
“Who's your friend?” Dark eyes went straight to her plate. Fingers gripping around her knees.
“My roommate.” As if it were that simple. “Ellis.” She glanced up briefly, taking just long enough to read his expression. His lips threatened to press into a hard line. Eyes only narrowing just a hair. Barely noticeable. But even the Boston Chief of Police couldn't stop the microscopic muscle movements as he tried to keep an unreadable expression.
“How's Evan?” He liked Evan. Evan was the perfect match for his only daughter. “Has he--”
“No.” Cutting in. He hated that. They both straightened in their seats, tension clearly worn in their shoulders.
“Don't interrupt me, Samantha.” His jaw clenched, so did hers.
“I wasn't done.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked back up, holding his gaze. Possibly the most eye contact she gave the officer in years.
“I love her.”
His expression became less controlled. Pupils dilating. He took in a heavier breath. Lips twitched downward. “No you don't. You can't.” Disappointment.
“I do.” Her nails dug into her jeans, the grip on her legs likely leaving a mark. “I--”
“Don't.” It felt like a physical blow. “How can my only daughter do this to me?” Anger.
And she was angry, too. The brunette stood. “Don't call me your daughter, then.”
She didn't cry. At least, not in front of him.
//She's everything.
A set of keys. They weren’t color coded. At least not yet. The brunette’s lips pressed into a hard line, but it did little to suppress the grin that came shortly after as she watched the way her counterpart ran a thumb along the metal edge.
Unlocking the door, she remained close to the blonde, keeping a hand on the small of her back as they stepped inside.
They had lived together at the school. In a dormitory. But this was different. This was their home.
Her lips twitched in the most particular way. The way they always did when she was about to smile. And she did.
Sam leaned forward, pressing her forehead against her temple. “I love you.”
//She always responds logically, even when I don't.
Random jobs. Nothing that was too stable. But that was over soon. In a month she'd be a student again. University student, even. They say it's better to have an associates degree before going to the academy. For now, however, the young woman with the Boston accent still worked odd jobs.
It didn't matter how hard the work was, because she was coming home to her. That was what mattered.
Opening the door, the brunette immediately made her way to the spare bedroom. Her work room. And there she was. A torn apart computer had the focus of her dark eyes. But today they were framed. It was new. Different. Woah.
Sam raised her eyebrows.
There was a few seconds where the blonde didn't look up, and that was okay. She needed to finish, and the moment she did, she looked up.
“Why are you wearing glasses, love?”
“I need them.”
The brunette exhaled in amusement. It was a stupid question to ask. It matched the stupid grin she wore. “I like them.” A lot.
//Montana might not legally recognize what it means, but I still wear it.
She asked why. Her dark eyes falling on the ring held between her pointer finger and thumb. A simple band. Nothing fancy. But it was important.
“Because you’re everything.” She ran her thumb over the smooth surface. “I want to give you everything. Even when I can’t.” It wasn’t a secret that the brunette wished she could be bound to her counterpart legally. “But this--” She tilted the band upwards, trying to make up for how she faltered.
“I want everyone to know.” She took the blonde’s hand with her free one, squeezing it. “I want everyone to see that I’m yours.”
//I get…angry. She calms me. But sometimes I can’t stop.
Breathe. Just breathe. Familiar fingertips ran down her arm, and she squeezes the hand that meets her own. The contact was needed. She needed to be stay grounded.
But she wasn’t.
Three steps and she would have been out of the door. Away from the situation. That woman. She couldn’t do it. Walk away from that.
Fingers loosened from the hand she so intently held as she turned. She hadn’t reached the blonde’s mother before she was yelling. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The woman looked surprised when she caught sight of the brunette. The same look she offered when Sam first stood. She genuinely didn’t see this coming when she should have.
Despite not having looked, Sam felt the blonde’s presence behind her. The way she curled her fingers around the Boston woman’s wrist.
She couldn’t stop. Not this time. She offered a light pull, but Sam didn’t move; she didn’t pull away, either.
“Don’t you see what you’re doing?” It was a genuine question, regardless of how angry her accented voice made it sound. Still, that same look. Confusion spread throughout every feature. Anger was bubbling over. She was shaking.
She wasn't inhuman. She never was. The mother just didn't get it.
“No wonder he left you!” Too much. Too angry. This time, she allowed her counterpart’s light pull ease her back. Away.
//I couldn't stop looking at her, even when I was saying my oath.
On my honor, I will never betray my badge, my integrity, my character, or the public trust.
The brunette was nervous. Nervous for swearing in. Anxious to see her again after so long. She missed her greatly. Months felt like years. Nights were the worst. Without her familiar form by her side.
She stood in the mirror, standing straight as she adjusted the navy uniform that fit to her form. Many would have doubted she'd make it this far. They assumed the woman would end up in jail before she'd be given a badge. But she never did. They didn't understand, but the blonde did. And now she was here.
I will always have the courage to hold myself and others accountable for our actions.
"Sam," A training officer stepped inside, and the brunette turned, raising her eyebrows. "You need to get out there, or you'll be late."
Dark eyes shot to the clock.
"Shit!"
I will always uphold the constitution, my community, and the agency I serve.
She stepped out onto the platform with her fellow academy students. Dark eyes quickly scanned the audience, finding the familiar head of blonde hair. She couldn't help but to grin.
SAMPLE:
Penelope was not expecting the shift in their positions, and once again found herself at a disadvantage against that damned girl. She closed her eyes a moment, trying to not let the feeling of Lucy’s body against her own completely take it over. But it did. It always did.
She managed to keep herself in check however, did her best to stand her ground. She didn’t budge as Lucy leaned in, even though she could feel the other’s breath on her skin. It was torment.
Once again, Penny found herself thrown off by Lucy’s unexpected actions, or in this case, words. She wasn’t sure what the other had planning, but she wouldn’t have guessed that.
“I don’t want to be a—“ Penelope spoke as she shifted her hands to behind her back, where she used them to lean against the desk. As she did so, her fingertips just barely grazed along the book on Lucy’s desk. But she wasn’t expecting to touch it, and was suddenly thrown into a memory.
She was in someone else’s dorm, staring right at Dominique Chevalier. Penelope had recognized him from classes, not to mention his reputation around the school. He had just reached forward, trying to snag the present that she had in her hands.
No, it wasn’t her. Penelope needed to remind herself.
“No.” Penelope spoke unwillingly with a voice that was not her own. She immediately realized that she was viewing Lucy’s memory. It made sense.
“If I’m gonna be with someone, they’re not gonna be afraid to be my friend. They’re gonna want to talk to me.” Penelope could feel the anger bubble from inside Lucy as she spoke bitterly. “To see me. Face to face. Not leave empty fucking gestures on my doorstep.”
“—game.” The final word had dropped off, sounding empty in comparison to the rest of her sentence and her expression became distant. She hadn’t hesitated, for time hadn’t really passed, but she suddenly had a new perspective on the matter.
A million questions were running through her head. When did this happen? It had to have been recent. Did that mean there were complications between Dominique and Lucy? Were they still going on?
“Why did you try to leave the book?” She asked, probably seeming random as she finally started to focus back on the Australian, “At my doorstep.”
USERNAME: Sai
AGE GROUP: Twenty-three
EXPERIENCE: Too long
Penelope was not expecting the shift in their positions, and once again found herself at a disadvantage against that damned girl. She closed her eyes a moment, trying to not let the feeling of Lucy’s body against her own completely take it over. But it did. It always did.
She managed to keep herself in check however, did her best to stand her ground. She didn’t budge as Lucy leaned in, even though she could feel the other’s breath on her skin. It was torment.
Once again, Penny found herself thrown off by Lucy’s unexpected actions, or in this case, words. She wasn’t sure what the other had planning, but she wouldn’t have guessed that.
“I don’t want to be a—“ Penelope spoke as she shifted her hands to behind her back, where she used them to lean against the desk. As she did so, her fingertips just barely grazed along the book on Lucy’s desk. But she wasn’t expecting to touch it, and was suddenly thrown into a memory.
She was in someone else’s dorm, staring right at Dominique Chevalier. Penelope had recognized him from classes, not to mention his reputation around the school. He had just reached forward, trying to snag the present that she had in her hands.
No, it wasn’t her. Penelope needed to remind herself.
“No.” Penelope spoke unwillingly with a voice that was not her own. She immediately realized that she was viewing Lucy’s memory. It made sense.
“If I’m gonna be with someone, they’re not gonna be afraid to be my friend. They’re gonna want to talk to me.” Penelope could feel the anger bubble from inside Lucy as she spoke bitterly. “To see me. Face to face. Not leave empty fucking gestures on my doorstep.”
“—game.” The final word had dropped off, sounding empty in comparison to the rest of her sentence and her expression became distant. She hadn’t hesitated, for time hadn’t really passed, but she suddenly had a new perspective on the matter.
A million questions were running through her head. When did this happen? It had to have been recent. Did that mean there were complications between Dominique and Lucy? Were they still going on?
“Why did you try to leave the book?” She asked, probably seeming random as she finally started to focus back on the Australian, “At my doorstep.”
USERNAME: Sai
AGE GROUP: Twenty-three
EXPERIENCE: Too long
