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IT'STHEBASICS
xxӈσω ∂σεs ʏσυя ɢσѵεяиϻεит ɪ∂εитɪғʏ ʏσυ?
- U.S. Marshall Helana Shepard
xxωӈαт ωσυʟ∂ ʏσυ ʟɪӄε тσ вε cαʟʟε∂?
- Either call me Marshall, or Helana.
xxӈσω ʟσиɢ ӈαѵε ʏσυ вεεи σи тӈɪs εαятӈ?
- Twenty-Seven Years Young
xxωӈαт ∂ɪ∂ тӈε ∂σcтσя sαʏ ʏσυ ωεяε?
- I got bewbs, I'm a woman.
xxωӈσ тυяиs ʏσυ σи σя cαтcӈεs ʏσυя εʏε?
- Straight
THEPERSONALLEVEL
xxωӈαт ωσυʟ∂ ρεσρʟε sαʏ ɪғ тӈεʏ ӈεαя∂ ʏσυя иαϻε?
xxωӈαт ϻαӄεs ʏσυ sтαи∂ συт ғяσϻ αʟʟ тӈε яεsт?
xxωӈαт тӈɪиɢs ∂σ ʏσυ ωαит тσ ӄεερ αяσυи∂?
xxωӈαт тӈɪиɢs ∂σ ʏσυ ωαит тσ sтαʏ αωαʏ?
xxωӈαт ωσυʟ∂ ρεσρʟε sαʏ ɪғ тӈεʏ ӈεαя∂ ʏσυя иαϻε?
- Born on a hot summer day, June twenty second, as Helana Shepard. No middle name, more of a statement than a title. Her life before the age of eight is a blur, childhood memories and her parents a constant glossy film when she tries to remember. Doctor's blamed it on the tragedy, the trauma was too much, a defense mechanism against it all. It's only after the house invasion that led to her parents death, and her near death experience. A man had entered their house and proceeded to shoot her parents in their bed before stabbing her in her back after she left her room to go to her parent's room. The neighbors had called 911 after hearing the gunshots. Paramedics arrived on the premises shortly after, a ambulance was in the area; Helana and her parents were dead at the scene, but after several minutes of them using the resuscitation paddles on her, she got a pulse. After several hours of surgery and a couple days of recuperation, she was released into child services. Some detectives asked her if she had seen the man's face, and several other questions, but she just shook her head.
She was mute for a year after she was transferred into her first foster home. She was watched over by an older black woman, the brazen Mrs. Petr's, who called her "my little angel" and made sure she finished her homework before she ate dinner every night. She brushed her teeth, did her chores and ate three square meals a day to Mrs. Petr's behest everyday, a cloud of cigarette smoke a constant. She was comforted when she fell, lauded when she finally started speaking whole words, than whole sentences, and taught how to wrap and knit yarn into scarves and such She loved her and considered her to be more of a mother than her biological one. She was with Mrs. Petr for four years until Mrs. Petr's death to lung cancer, something she never told anyone about, even Helana. She was transferred to another family, the Rodriguez's, who already had six foster kids, plus three of their own. She was just shoved into a room with three other kids, taking the bottom in one of the two bunk beds that took up most of the space in the room. She kept to herself, not bothering anyone, but everyone knew she was there.
That was until a fifteen year old boy named Jack came to live them and decided he didn't like Helana's silence. He constantly picked on her, the usual bullying of knocking things from her hands and calling her horrible names. She ignored him and continued to play by herself. One day, during one of his worst name callings, Jack got tired of being ignored and slapped her in the face to get her attention. It took both parents and one of the bigger kids to pull her off him. His nose was bleeding, his face swollen, and someone told her later that his left arm was broke. A social worker came later that day and picked her up. She was put in a home for disruptive juveniles, and no one came for her after that. She was thirteen years old. She made a few friends with some of the older kids, following them when they spray painted buildings and shop lifted, sometimes doing the same. They never got caught, and while she didn't agree with what they where doing, she loved the feeling of comrade when they where all hunched over together in a circle, hiding from the police sirens, their hearts racing some fast, but huge grins adorned their faces at being able to get away. She liked the running and the partnership of doing something together with someone else. She didn't have that much in the other homes she had been in.
It was one autumn night at a run down old bridge when the older kids had 'found' some alcohol and started passing it around, when Helana found out what she was meant to be. She had declined to drink, ignoring the ribbing and sneers with icy flippancy. They all continued to drink excessively, though Helana just walked the bracers, peering fearlessly down at the swirling icy cold water below. The drunken crowd clapped as she did spins and turns and even a cartwheel. They where in awe and couldn't look away; she laughed at their wonder and admiration, enthused by it. That was until one of the kids, the one who was only a year older than her, thought he could do the same; he jumped up next to her, drunkenly knocking her back onto the pavement. She landed on her feet, but still stumbled, confused as to what was happening. The older children bibulously cheered him on, clapping their hands and shouting out 'helpful' suggestions. The boy tried to mimic what she had done, lurching around unsteadily, but managing somehow with his inebriated twists and turns. That was until he tried to do a flip, his hands giving out as his legs went above his body. He slipped and fell, though his hands grabbed the side of the lowest part of the guard rail, kicking his legs as he screamed for help. Everyone panicked and ran, leaving scatterings of trash, and alcohol bottles. Except Helana, she was frozen in shock, her legs wouldn't move; her heart rate seemed to speed up, while her breath seemed to get caught in her throat, choking her, but she couldn't run away.
So instead, she moved towards the railing, and she could breath, she took more steps, and she felt stronger, lighter. She flung a leg over the side and started her descent, slowly, down to the screaming boy. He begged and pleaded with her, and she whispered back reassurances, and consolations that she knew would calm him, but that she wasn't sure she believed. She finally reached him and tried to pry his fingers off the railing so as to pull him up, but that only made him cry and yell more. She had to move closer, so she sidled onto her stomach and hooked her feet on another girder, grabbing his wrists and pulling with what strength she could muster. Her arms burned, the bones in her forearms seemed to be bending, and she was sure that they where going to break; and than she found the strength, scooting backwards on her stomach, pulling the sobbing mess of a kid with her. He pressed his wet face against her shirt, wetting her shoulder with his moist mess. Her arms hurt, but she held him anyways, cradling his body against her own. A light shined down on them and a booming voice called to them.
Two hours later, they where sitting at a police station, both nursing warm cups of cocoa in their hands, and the only one really talking was a police Sargent and the boy who had fallen. Some people had heard the kid's screams and had called 911. He told the truth about what happened, and profusely praised Helana like there was no tomorrow. The police officer looked at her as if asking if she had anything to say. She was staring at his waist, mesmerized by the gun on his hip. It was cool and black and she liked it. She asked him how long it took to be a police officer before you got one of those. He only smiled, and shook her hand. On her eighteenth birthday, she left the home and almost entered the police force. Instead, she entered the U.S. Marshals Service under the suggestion from the same police officer from the bridge incident. He said it was her fate to join them. She became a Deputy United States Marshal in a year, than a decorated one in two, and got a good partner the year after that. She can be found guarding prisoners arrested by investigative agencies such as the FBI, protecting government officials, seizing assets of major crime rings, relocating and providing new identities for witnesses in the federal witness protection program which is headed by the USMS. Through the Adam Walsh Act, the U.S. Marshals Service was chosen to head up the new federal sex offender tracking and prosecution hot team. She lives alone, loves her job, and hangs out with her older partner and his family on the weekends. His kids call her auntie, and his wife babies her like she's one of her own. Helana is content with her life, but something in the pit of the stomach tells her that she's just waiting. Waiting for something to happen. She just doesn't know what yet.
xxωӈαт ϻαӄεs ʏσυ sтαи∂ συт ғяσϻ αʟʟ тӈε яεsт?
- She's driven and determined, a burning force of conviction and unshakable strength. Her co-workers say that she's like a rock that never falters, and that anyone put under her care would never be harmed. She has a hundred twenty percent survival rate with her witnesses, and a ninety-five percent success rate with retrieving fugitives. She got a ninety-nine percent of her shooting range test because of a slight half a minuscule calculation of one bullet hole, and made the overseer fail her, so she could take it again. She scored one hundred percent. She's consistent, and yet, hard to calculate. She doesn't hesistate, and doesn't like to wait. She breaks protocol a lot, infuriating the Supervisory Deputy United States Marshal, but he bends over backwards to make sure he can keep her.
She's friend, family, bully, priest, sister, mother, soccer, basketball, and football player, therapist, cook, maid, errand girl, confidant, defender, and protector. Everything she could be to protect and care for her witnesses, while also being a unstoppable machine when going after criminals. She has only fired her service weapon a handful of times and only killed one person. Even then, she mourned the loss of the life she took, loving the chase and heat of battle, but not the cold icy clench of taking what wasn't her's. But it was a life and death situation with her witness being the life, and the gun pointed at his head the death. She's compassionate when there needs to be understanding, and vengeful when she needs to be someone's champion. She's the type of person who keeps back the flood after everyone else has ran, shoulders holding up the dam. Holding everything at bay if just a second longer.
She's lively, and creative, spending her weekends carving, and or knitting, taking flak for her hobbies with a grain of salt. She likes to tinker and paint pictures, though not having any talent to do so. Her hobby is hobbies, finding something new every week to focus her attention on. She is by no means limited in her intellectual life. She knows a little bit about everything, which comes in handy when she and her partner are working a case or when they could both use a little comic relief as a distraction. She empathetic to people, being what she needs to be, a chameleon, to help people for the better. It's her weakness, never knowing when to stop or give up, and it will probably be the death of her in the end.
xxωӈαт тӈɪиɢs ∂σ ʏσυ ωαит тσ ӄεερ αяσυи∂?
- ☸ Hobbies
☸ Running
☸ Hot days/the sun
☸ Cheeseburgers
☸ Taking care of someone/children
xxωӈαт тӈɪиɢs ∂σ ʏσυ ωαит тσ sтαʏ αωαʏ?
- ＊ Losing/failing
＊ Good people getting hurt
＊ Swimming
＊ Paper cuts
＊ Foreign films
LASTNOTLEAST
xxωӈαт cσʟσяs ωεяε υsε∂ тσ ғɪʟʟ συт тӈɪs ғσяϻ?
xxωӈσ яεcεɪѵεs α ρӈσиεcαʟʟ ɪи cαsε σғ εϻεяɢεиcʏ?
xxωӈαт cσʟσяs ωεяε υsε∂ тσ ғɪʟʟ συт тӈɪs ғσяϻ?
- Coral and Tangerine
xxωӈσ яεcεɪѵεs α ρӈσиεcαʟʟ ɪи cαsε σғ εϻεяɢεиcʏ?
- ShutterByte
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