OPEN THE CASEFILE ...

[Jameson Walker]

_____ and we danced as the angels sang

alias >>
age >> Kat
how to contact? >> PM's are fine.
other characters? >>
Charlie Duncan
you found us how? >> bubbles seduced me.

NO BIGGER than 450x450 picture of your character

WALKER, JAMESON
one song lyric that would best describe your character

___ every soul in the room keeping time with their hands

birth certificate says >> Jameson Nathaniel Walker
but i’d rather be called >> Jay, Jameson, Jamie (only one person has this particular privelege)
there are this many candles on my cake >> will be twenty-three in a few months
pink or blue, what color are you >> male
it's a two way street >> straight
have to work to play >> (occupation and/or grade)


___ like a piece to the puzzle that falls into place

my look-alike >> James Napier
my hair is >> curly, dirty blonde, kept short
my eyes are >> blue
i stand this tall >> 6' 0"
broke the scale at >> 159lbs
things that caught your eye >> one silver stud in left ear and a thin, pale scar from his right bicep to his elbow courtesy of Carmen

see this and smile >> Renelda Walker- also known as “Dear”, “Grams”, “the Antichrist”- was mostly responsible for Jameson’s raising. And having a grandmother from a strictly conservative family in the East was bound to leave a lasting effect on the boy. Every day was all about routine- mornings meant brushing your teeth for two minutes exactly, not including floss, and brushing through his mess of dark blonde curls only to have Grams deem it unsatisfactory and demand to have the brush herself. His face was to be scrubbed until his skin was thoroughly pink, and heaven forbid that the quarter-sized square of skin behind his ears be caught with dirt. Mornings were about iron-pressed shirts, hole-free jeans, and enough layers of sweaters, jackets and scarves to make an Eskimo sweat. His mother’s complaints and arguments about her son’s grooming- namely that it ought to be less Amish and more LA- always fell on deaf ears.

But as he grew, and his mother began to realize the folly of her efforts, Grams took over to ensure he would become a “fine, young man”. Years later, Jay wasn’t completely sure what Grams’s version of a “fine, young man” entailed, nor whether he fulfilled the requirements, but he felt rather confident he wasn’t lacking too much. He still brushed his teeth for two minutes straight- not including floss, of course- and he walked out of the bathroom with pink skin. A lifetime of his grandmother’s daily regiment kept his teeth straight and pearly, and his skin fresh and clean-shaven. His hair had lightened considerably from the darker shade it was, and his unruly curls had been cropped to a manageable length thanks in part to his Drill Sergeant back in Texas. And his eyes… well, his eyes were still the bright blue legacy from his mother- the only thing he had left of hers.

Fours years in Texas filled out his slender teenage body with tone and muscle. Running after Carmen had kept Jay slim, but training in blah blob center made him solid and strong. He had developed an air of careful intensity about him- eyes that were subtly on the move, always aware of his surroundings, and a calm assuredness when he walked. Military instruction introduced a new sense of confidence in what was once a generally polite but shy boy.

He still ironed his clothes and mended the holes in his pants, though. Confident though he may be, Jay still wasn’t suicidal enough to walk into Grams’s trailer with so much as a stitch loose. She had the vision of a hawk, and an attention to detail that would have even impressed Drill Sergeant Dan. The style he developed was more casually well-kept, with fitted jeans, collared shirts and shoes that shined when his favorite Nikes weren’t adequate. There were still the occasions when he could spot Grams’ fingers twitch with the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes, but he could tell by her proud smile that he was still fairly close to being the “fine, young man” she had always dreamed he’d be.



___ you could tell how we felt from the look on our faces

things that make me smile >>
root beer
Grams’ hot peach cobbler
meeting new people
dogs
spending time with Carmen and Richard
Jackie Chan movies
riding his motorcycle
rainy days
acoustic guitars
basketball
the ocean
olives
running
carne asada burritos from the stand on MacArthur Blvd
crossword puzzles
4th of July
flight simulator video-games
being in the snow
coffee
soccer
History
things that make me frown >> (dislikes)

my soul’s desires >> (passions)
my heart’s dread >> (fears)

the virtues >> (strengths)
the faults >> (weaknesses)
the ambitions >> (goals)
the secrets >> (at least one good one)

the inside turned out >> (general personality, at least 3 good paragraphs)


___ we forgot where we were and we lost track of time

help me rob a bank >> (wealthy, middle-class, poor)
they helped me grow >> (parents)
wished i was an only child >> (siblings, relatives)
my heart is here >> (hometown)
the ancestory >> (nationality)
where we were all those years ago >>
Jameson’s story can best be described as… complicated. In fact, one has to wonder if even he understands all the complexities weaving in and out of his life’s tale.

For starters, he never really knew very much about his father. He grew up learning only what he was told, and even that only from the talk of the two most important women in his life who each had a very different opinion of Mark Reese. His mother would smile and pull her son into her lap, stroking gentle fingers through his curly blonde hair. “Do you remember Robin Hood? The movie with the fox that would steal from the mean Prince John and give away his money to the poor people?” Jameson would nod his head emphatically. “Well, your father was a lot like Robin Hood. He would… do things that were kind of bad, but because of it, he helped a bunch of good people. I knew him from high school- in fact, you were created on prom night.” Despite having no idea what a “prom” was nor what relation it had to baby making, Jameson would act impressed, assuming that that was the reaction expected. His mother would go on to describe how he charming and mysterious and attractive his father was, and the boy started to form an image in his head of a blonde-haired superhero.

But his Grams, on the other hand, was very quick to bring the boy’s fantasies back down to earth. “Your father was a filthy criminal that killed people for money,” she’d say in her crisp, no-nonsense voice. “He was a dirty, sneaky little vagabond that always had alcohol on his breath and a new tramp on his arm. Mark my words, I knew that boy was trouble the moment he stepped foot on my porch. Didn’t I tell you, Frank, that that boy would be trouble?” she said, turning to her husband for support. Frank Walker, normally buried behind a newspaper to read the headlines- if not hide from his wife’s attention- would tilt down his paper, mumble a quiet “Yes, dear,”, then return to his reading as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. “See? I always have a sixth sense for hoodlums like him. And I found out just how right I was when, low and behold, in comes Lillian, several months pregnant and telling me some cockamamie story about how that Reese boy was off to the East Coast to be a professional. That monster, leaving my little girl without even given her a proper wedding. Do you know how long it was before I could show my face in public again? And then, as if that weren’t enough, Lillian says she’s going to drop out of school and work at a club to help raise you! It was all that Mark Reese’s fault He’s the one corrupted my poor child. That’s why we made your mother name you ‘Walker’, so you’d at least have some good reputation to live off of. I thank God everyday that that demon is no longer around to corrupt you, Jameson.” The superhero vanished to be replaced with a man with glowing red eyes and acidic green drool dripping from the corner of his mouth, in between inhumanely sharpened teeth.

Often, mother and daughter would argue about the former superhero-turned-villain with little regard for Jameson’s innocent ears. On the one hand was the argument that Mark was doing the best he could. Then came the rebuttal- if he were doing his best, why wasn’t he at college getting a decent job? Mark made sure to send sizable checks every month to care for the child he had fathered. Money that was tainted by blood and innocent lives. Mark was a reformed man, married now with another son. If he were so reformed, he should have come back to the family he already had instead of trying to avoid his responsibilities by starting a new one. It was the same thing, over and over and over again that normally ended in Lily rushing to her room in tears while her mother turned to clean the kitchen with a self-righteous fury that would have scared a saint. All the while, Jameson would sit on the couch with his Grandpa, playing checkers to appear unconcerned by the shouting that he could all too clearly hear. Frank, the quiet, shy man he was, often recognized the dark and confused expression in his grandson’s eyes and, without a word, would appear with a board game or a book or a model airplane to help cheer the boy. Jameson loved his Grandpa more than any one boy ever could love an older male figure.

By the time he was 10 years old, his mother had finally given up arguing with Grams. Grams, meanwhile, saw a great victory in her daughter’s surrender, and took to making “subtly suggestive” comments about getting her high school diploma, taking a few college courses, getting a “real” job, and being a better mother to her son “before you end up becoming nothing but a disappointment like his thrice-cursed father”. Jameson would confide to his Grandpa that he thought Grams was being mean, and he reminded his mother of her wonderfulness as often as he could. Sometimes, Lily would smile and run her fingers through his curls, but other times, she’d shrug and continue with her business. Once, Jameson even gathered the courage to confront the terrifying woman on his mother’s behalf. Grams would smile pityingly, as if he were some dumb child that didn’t understand the ways of the grown-up world, and tell him to finish his peas. Grams rarely yelled at him- she said that he was her favorite grandchild. It took him a while to realize the statement wasn’t really a compliment, considering he was her only grandchild, but he never said anything to correct her whenever she saw fit to remind him.

Besides, he didn’t have the energy to spare worrying about his grandmother. Especially when he became alarmingly aware of his mother’s failing health. On his thirteenth birthday, he was confused when his mother said she didn’t want any cake, and retired to her room to rest after kissing him on the forehead. That was the day he really looked at the woman for the first time with new eyes, and was astonished to realize how sallow she looked. Her eyes, bright blue in color, were slightly sunken into her face, making her cheekbones even more sharp and apparent. She was thin, too- he wondered why he didn’t notice it before- and he was startled when he realized he didn’t remember the last time he had witnessed his mother eating more than a few bites of anything. Lily spent more and more time in her room, sleeping in between her shifts at the bar, and in spite of the hours in bed, she always looked like she didn’t have enough energy to make it through each day. Even Grams was starting to notice the change in her daughter. She didn’t harp about insignificant things like she used to, and at supper, she watched Lillian like a hawk, making sure every bite was consumed before she allowed her to leave for work Grandpa had pulled out his old set of bagpipes and would play little melodies for the amusement of his daughter and grandson, even if the instrument bellowed more dust than music. Jameson worked hard, doing extra chores around the trailer and, on weekends, walking the half mile down to the club to take lunches and small snacks to his mother. The owner of the club- an honest man that looked after his employees- liked Jameson and offered him plenty of little odd-ended jobs for a little extra cash, that always went into a rolled up sock that was hidden behind his laundry basket. But, despite their best efforts, Lillian continued to deteriorate little by little until the inevitable happened.

Though he’d deny it flat out, if it hadn’t been for his friends standing on either side of him at his mother’s funeral, he would have broken down and sobbed in front of all the people that came to see her- the club owner, several employees she worked with, a few regular customers, some of the ladies from Grams’ bingo group, and Grams and Grandpa themselves. At his right was Richard Fawkes, a boy almost three years younger than him that lived down the street in the apartment building next to the gas station. The boy was almost like his little brother, and back when Jameson used to imagine his father coming back with a little boy that looked just like him to rejoin their family, he tried to practice being a good older brother on Richard. They had met in middle school- Richard the nervous sixth grader while he was the knowledgeable eighth grader- and despite the years between them, the two somehow bonded. At the time, Jameson had no shortage of friends- he was a fairly likeable guy who quickly and easily won the trust and friendships of most who met him. But for some reason, Richard was the one who became his other half. They had built a tree-fort in the old Dogwood tree behind the trailer park and lorded over the land like kings. Most weekends were spent at the comic shop close to Richard’s apartment building where the two would hold serious debates on the superiority of their favorite crime fighters. Many who saw the two boys together- one a tall blonde while the other a still-growing brunette- thought that they were indeed brothers, and when told as much, it was hard to tell which boy’s chest puffed out more with pride. Then, they’d look at each other and laugh, spoiling all their effort.

It was Richard who introduced him to Carmen, too. The nine-year-old stood on his left in a grey cotton dress, a black and white polka-dotted headband and big black rain boots that were several sizes too big for her. The girl understood the concept of somber-hued attire to funerals, but her execution nearly made him laugh. At just nearly four-and-a-half years his junior, she had a personality bigger than most boys his own age. She was spunky, fun-loving, and got into more trouble than nearly everyone he knew combined. He suspected it was in an effort to keep up with the “big kids”, being Richard and himself, but mostly her antics just made the two fall to the ground in laughter. Many adults couldn’t understand how two grown boys could consent to letting a little upstart like Carmen tag after them, but those who thought as much completely missed the reverse hierarchy going on between the three. Carmen was the leader, not the follower, and it was she who usually dragged her older friends into her own troublesome undertakings. Jameson once jokingly asked her if she jumped headfirst into mischief to see how many Band-Aids it’d take to patch her up in the end. To his surprise, she turned to him, straight-faced and serious, and told him her record was nineteen. After that, he stopped asking her unusual questions, intimidated by her possible answers. Richard and Jameson were just as much her lackeys as they were her protectors, though she’d pound them into the ground if she ever knew. While to a degree they all looked out for each other, it was obvious that Carmen was the one that required at least one eye on her at all times, and they got into plenty of fist-fights with anyone stupid enough to make comments about a couple of teenage boys hanging out with a little girl (on the occasions when Carmen found out, she rarely let anyone leave with all of their teeth in tact). Once, Carmen announced that she was the queen of the world and that he and Richard had the honor of being her loyal knights. Later, Jameson realized it was a relatively accurate analogy for their very odd friendship.

Lillian Walker died when Jameson was fourteen. After the funeral, Richard and Carmen followed him home and Grams made them all a batch of peanut butter cookies before going into her room and locking the door. Jameson asked his Grandpa if she was crying, and the old man nodded solemnly. He was floored. Never could he recall Grams ever crying. After the cookies were finished, Frank offered to drive the kids to the movie theater to watch whatever they wanted. No one objected. Besides, Jameson was afraid of walking into the empty room that he no longer had to share with his mother.

In the time that followed his mother’s death, Jameson leant more and more on his friends for support. Entrance into high school passed almost without his being aware of it, and Jameson was suddenly introduced into a new world of vending machines, lockers, and girls. Girls. That was something new. None of his experience with his mother, grandmother and Carmen- the only females he really knew- prepared him for the coy glances or high-pitched giggles or the notes folded into impossible shapes discreetly left on his desk. Richard had once asked the older boy what girls were like, and the only way he knew to respond was to recall a documentary on the Discovery channel they had both watched months ago. “Emus, dude. They’re just like emus.” Nonetheless, he tried dating a few times, and was shocked to discover he didn’t hate it. Girls liked his easy smile and charming personality, and the fact that his grandmother drilled in his gentlemanly behavior at a young age didn’t hurt either. Carmen expressed her displeasure of his newfound skill, especially when Richard moved onto high school and followed in his friend’s footsteps. But neither boy- young men, by that time- would let her think they abandoned her. None of the three hardly ever spent time in their own homes- they were either ganged up at someone else’s house to watch tv and gorge on snacks or they were wandering around LA, trying to restrain Carmen from acting upon another irrational plot of hers. All three of them adapted into their new teenage lives without breaking a sweat, their friendship just as strong as ever.

By the time Jameson was about to graduate, Richard was a sophomore while Carmen was still in middle school, wrecking havoc on the place for the last two years without Richard to chaperone her anymore. Both friends watched from the stands as he made his way down the gangway to claim his diploma and take a picture with the principal. Grandpa whistled proudly and Grams breathed a sigh of relief as if to say “At least someone got their diploma”. Later, he received a kiss from her and a hearty slap on the back from his grandfather. Then, he, Richard and Carmen were off to celebrate. Sometime during the course of the night while the three were sitting in the old tree fort, Carmen had stolen his cap and sat with her feet swinging over the end, tilting her head back and forth to watch the tassels sway. Both boys complained about her being so close to an easy opportunity to fall (or, more likely, to jump) until she finally came back inside, grumbling. She had procured a small feast of blueberry muffins, potato chips and three root beers, and both Richard and Jameson felt it wise not to ask where she got them. Chances were they wouldn’t like the answer. Still, as far as graduation celebrations went, Jameson didn’t think his could be any more perfect.

When one of them asked what his plans were now that he was out of high school, he confessed that he had thought of joining the military. When prompted, he explained about the Sheppard Air Force Base in Texas where one of the country’s best training regiment, the 82nd training wing, was found. Jameson said that after five years of specialized training in Texas, he could transfer to the Vandenberg Air Force Base in Santa Barbara where he could pursue his real passion- space flight. When Carmen protested about the distance and the five year separation, Jameson reassured her that after that short training period, he’d be able to spend the rest of his time less than two hours away- what time he wasn’t spending up in space, of course. Richard was happy for his friend, and after a time, Carmen admitted that she was too. Jameson was thrilled about his friends’ support, and the rest of the night was spent in bliss, enjoying what little time he had left with them. Both of his grandparents were proud of his decision- Grandpa pulled out a box of old war memorabilia from his time spent in the old wars- and offered whatever support they could afford. He surprised them when he pulled out his old sock full of cash that he had saved since he was thirteen, and with it he bought his plane ticket to Texas and most of his living necessities. His grandparents pooled their money to buy him a used motorcycle (as well as a sturdy helmet and protective gear from Grams) that would be waiting for him when he returned in five years. Jameson was speechless with emotion, running his hands over the glossy black hull in awe. Then, he engulfed first his Grams, then his Grandpa, in great big hugs, wordlessly expressing his gratitude for their caring for him for the many years since his birth. His thoughts went briefly to his mother, then to the father and brother he had never known, before he shook his head and cleared his mind. He had a new future ahead of him to look forward to, with no time to keep wondering about the past.

The first time Jameson saw his Grams cry was when she and Grandpa drove him to the airport. He smiled and offered her a tissue, and she laughed when she remembered teaching Jameson the boy all the proper ways to treat a lady in distress. There may have been an unusual glossiness to Grandpa’s eyes, but when Jameson pulled away from the man’s embrace, they were clear again. A last wave, and he was on his way to his future.

The next time Jameson expected to walk into that airport, he thought he’d be five years older and infinitely more experienced. But when he did finally return, it was as “Jay”, the nickname bestowed to him by his Drill Sergeant, Dan Sutherworth. This time, he was accompanying Richard who had also flown to Texas after his own graduation to learn aerial combat, and unlike his expectations, he was only four years older. According to Richard, Carmen was in some sort of trouble- as if that were really a surprise- and like always, the two were rushing to be by her side, ready to defend their queen from whatever foreign invaders threatened her.


Oh, and by the way, there is a link to accompany the history.

If you wanna know why a girl is like an emu...


___ there were drums in the air as she started to dance

stamp me >> (member title)
make me >> (canon/original and/or from what series are you associating your character with)
write me >> (subplot?, add link)
proof of insurance >> (role-play sample)

[bubbles]

A C C E P T E D !

“He doesn't know but he's about to find out.”

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