Name:
Samantha Blake
Nicknames: Sam, Sammi
Aliases: Wouldn't you like to know?
Age: 21
Date of Birth: November 18th
Place of Birth: Chicago IL.
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: None of your business
Hair color: Naturally Red, but hair dye is cheap enough
Eye color: Green, but contacts can come in handy
Build: Curves in all the right places
Occupation: Artist - Metal Sculptures
Family: Disowned. I am dead to them, they are dead to me.
I know what you are thinking; what's a nice girl like you, yadda yadda. I have a question for you. Who ever said I was a nice girl?
From where I come from being nice was a ruse. It got you so far, smoozing up to the right people, but deep down all you wanted was what they had and you would do whatever it took to get it. That is where the story gets tricky. Trying to get what you want is one thing. Trying to do so without getting caught is quite another. At first I was good at what I do. Let's face it when you are 8 no one expects you are running a scam on them, they just see a cute kid wanting help, while they are getting fleeced by your 'associates'. A good scam up until you get old enough where no one cares if you live or die. The older I got the tougher the scams got. Picking pockets, stealing out of cars, boosting cars, it was all a part of the thrill. Up until I got caught when I was 14. Grand theft auto. Trouble was it was the car of a local politician. All it was was a joyride. Don't you people have any sense of adventure?
I hate cops.
See Sammi get hauled away. Youth detention centers are such a pain. There are all types there, whiners complaining that they are innocent, big hairy knuckle busters that would rather yank your hair out at the roots than look at you twice. And those were the girls. Me, I hung out with Roddy, a banger from Bronzeville who got caught on an assault rap. Nothing happened between us, he mainly saw me as a guy with tits and that was fine with me. However that kind of changed on the first day his fellow bangers came to check up on him. His name was Deacon, something of a basketball player. All I could see was stars as the crush set in. I would hang with Roddy every time visiting hours would come to the center as long as Deke was showing up, and he was the kind that would not miss a visit. After a few visits and a quick trip to the bathroom for Roddy, Deacon started up a convo with me. I don't remember what we talked about, only that we were talking and I was flying. Even after Roddy got out of the hell hole we were in, Deke would still come out and we would talk. I think he felt bad for me; he was my only visitor, my folks having given up on me long ago. We were together for a year; at least in my mind we were together for a year. One day Deke came as usual and let me know that he was going to college. In New York. I knew what it meant; that this would be his last visit.
It was at that point where I stopped acting up and decided I needed to get out of hell. At first I tried to play it nice, but the officers could see right through that. I resigned to the fact that I needed to make a true effort to show them I was worth releasing back into the world again. It wasn't easy. It took years in fact. By the time I was 17, I had forgotten what the world looked like until one day I was out in it again. I went to New York, but I never did find Deacon. I stayed there, doing odd jobs for years, even worked in a junk yard stripping cars. Hey, if you have a talent use it I say. That is where I found my true passion, some might call it a calling. While I was tinkering with some bits and pieces of scrap metal, I made a small sculpture out of it. Some guy looking for a part for his Benz saw the 'artwork' and wanted to buy it from me. I spouted off a wild ass amount, just to tell the guy to get lost. I mean who would pay a grand for a diddling piece of weldwork? He did.
I started gathering up more pieces of metal after that. have been working on my craft for years now. Some pieces sold, others....well....I thought they were good at least.
Time passed and slowly the itch to get into trouble passed with it. New York is nice, but damned expensive to live. I had to move out of my rat hole apartment and find a change of pace. I had heard that there was a cultural hotspot up north in a smaller city. If nothing else at least the rent will have to be cheaper, right?
I guess I'll find out.