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The wrong neighborhood (Claire and Holdthedoor)

Ana Rain

The duchess of diction
Joined
Jan 27, 2012
Name: Chloe Anna Schmidt
Nickname: Chloe, Caz
Height: 5'8
Weight: 128lbs
Age: 22
Relationship status: Dating a connected young law school student - Peter Forrester (about 8 months or so).
Occupation: Just completed senior year, and now looking at an MSc at a pretty big business school in the city.

Parents:
Father: Michael Schmidt (68) - Owner and partner at Persimmon Investments.
Mother: Angela Schmidt(53) - Former lawyer at Persimmon, now pretty much a lady of leisure.
Younger Brother: Andrew Daniel Schmidt (17) - High School student

Attitude: Confident, even somewhat bratty. A little privileged and snooty as a result of her upbringing. However, Alex is also quite independent!


Bio:
Chloe Anna Schmidt was undoubtedly privileged. She'd grown up with her family in the affluent DC suburbs, and although she'd always moved around with her family, they had never lived in anything other than relative luxury. Indeed for as long as she'd been alive her parents had been people of significant means. Yet it was more than money, both of her Chloe's parents had friends and old colleagues connected to some of the biggest and most prestigious institutions in the city.

Her family on the whole had demonstrated that they could certainly give Chloe and her younger brother lives which were generally free from any serious concern or anxiety, and a future which was deeply secure. Yet the Schmidt family were not even actually multi-millionaires, and they were not going to be found on the Forbes list any time soon either - their real money was tied up in the firm and in shares which they could hardly sell - but the Schmidt family name went a long way. They were invited to every blue riband event, had their names on almost any exclusive political donor list, and they were on the top table at almost all of the cities big fund raising galas.

But while Chloe's family might have been well-known, even somewhat highly regarded, they were not quite as rich and as renowned as the company which they kept. In fact when Chloe had been in elementary school she'd known fully well that her father was a high ranking lawyer at some big litigator downtown. Then before she'd hit middle school he'd cashed in his stock options, sold up, and bought into property and investments. He'd spent tens of thousands buying up the cheap repossessed homes and half-abandoned social housing which were popular south of the river. Through his connections he had from his time in college he managed to get permits and planning permission to evict the tenants, renovate and make the lots much more saleable. So it was, that before Chloe's 14th birthday, suddenly her family had their own firm. The Schmidt's had their start, and although the company he'd built - Persimmon Investments - was stable and big enough to bring positive attention, it didn't quite put them into the bracket which her father aspired to, they were wealthy, even relatively rich, but they were not exactly rolling in it.

Chloe and her little brother certainly reaped the rewards of her father's opportunism, his seemingly ruthless endeavor in exploiting the financial crash and the mortgage crisis. Chloe had the privilege of attending the biggest shindigs in the city, partying with local politicos and minor celebrities of the social scene. Both her and Andrew had been paid into attending the rather impressive and exclusive private school "Foxborough", and they'd enjoyed skiing breaks to Japan, Canada and the French Alps; as well as beach breaks in the Bahamas, Mexico and Portugal.

In High School Chloe had done well enough, she was an entitled but reasonably bright - though not stellar - student, and her determination and high expectations delivered good results. All the while, her father Michael Schmidt positioned himself politically, getting traction with the local republican party, and gaining a place on the local city council himself.

But despite the privilege Chloe had a precocious streak, her attitude certainly didn't lend itself to taking the easy gains, and sitting back on her laurels. Indeed Chloe felt the need to prove something, to take things on and show that everything anyone else could do, she could step up and take on herself! The attractive brunette had figured out in High School that she *needed* to be respected, and that she wanted nothing more than prove to everyone that she could do thing her way. So it was, that while the attractive and privileged girl might not have been the most intellectual, nor even the most studious, she was driven, dedicated and independent. Without any real intention, Chloe had slowly become a female model of her own father... and she'd done so without ever really realizing the deep flaws of the man she so admired and had rather begun to emulate.

At college Chloe had found herself staring at choices which looked all too familiar. She'd earned her place into a few prestigious institutions, and had offers from a couple more on the basis of her name and family connections. But earning her place had been important, and if anything simply made Chloe feel significantly more self-righteous. Her college of choice was everything she'd wanted; it was selective, elite, and rather acted as an echo chamber for her special brand of liberal conservatism. Chloe jumped at the chance to join a lacrosse team, the campus newspaper, the social event committee and upon her dads suggestion even the vibrant college young republican society. The whole thing was a perfect fit!

Yet she did have one irritation with her college experience, one group of people who simply didn't sit right with her on campus, the only people she could see who were not there on merit: the athletes! Their arrogant attitude grated on her more than she wished to admit, and every time she had bumped into them she'd found herself rolling her eyes and walking away dumbfounded. IT didn't matter that she had a boyfriend they felt entitled to hit on her, it was irrelevant that they might not be her "type" at all, or that she'd knocked them back, they were insistent that she should entertain their "banter", "attitude" and "humor". So far as Chloe had become concerned, the guys were little more than entitled sexist jerks.

But not all guys were like that. Chloe had a boyfriend; very much on her own terms. They had met towards the end of high school at one of the fund raising events her father held. Although it took a little time at first, and the spark had been far from instant, the whole thing had blossomed into something more serious the winter-break of her sophomore year. Almost 10 months later and despite the distance between them their relationship was almost a rather perfect social match: He was the respectful, thoughtful and clean cut attractive guy from lawyer stock, and Chloe came from the same respected social and political pool. Although their parents were only acquaintances, there had been nothing but smiles, hand-shakes and warmth when they had all met at one of the mayor's functions, and she could tell there was more than a little pride from her mother. The whole thing had been like little pieces falling into place.

When Chloe finally finished up with college she'd had no doubt that it was time to return home and spend the summer productively. She had friends skiing in New Zealand, touring in Europe, or simply enjoying the "art scene" there in the city, but Chloe wanted to get into something more serious. Within a month she was an intern at her dads office, and within two she was out in the suburbs and the boroughs checking on his properties and investments... and so it was that she ended up in "Grant Cross"... a taxi ride across town, and somewhere that investment and gentrification looked like they might make her father a very rich man...

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"Jesus... what a shitty place to live!" The attractive young brunette muttered to herself, her eyes adjusting to the amber light of the late winter afternoon.

The building behind her was decrepit, but it was functional. The homes were all in decent order, and the utilities were certainly what her father had told her to expect, but that was his job; he knew what he was buying, and he knew how much it could sell for if he had the right permits, planning and renovations.

But as Chloe looked up and down the wintry avenue her concerns were suddenly taken somewhere else entirely; she didn't see a bus, a taxi or a metro bridge for what looked like a 4-5 blocks each way. Shit... where the fuck do I go? she posed silently to herself, looking each way before fishing her little blue iPhone out of the right hand pocket of her nice black leather jacket.

"What? no signal? seriously!?" she almost cursed, stuffing her hand -and phone- back into her pocket, and she started walking back in the direction she'd come. Chloe was certain she'd seen a metro station on her taxi-ride across town... she certainly wasn't going to stand around waiting in what was definitely not "her" side of town!
 
Names: DeSean Taylor, Tyler Cooks, Stephon Ayers.
Appearance: DeSean (Middle) Tyler (Left) Stephon (Right)

The three men had met when in one of the run down high schools that occupied the furthest reaches of downtown DC, most people wouldn't be able to imagine how different things could be from the upstate part of town. The only time the big suits came anywhere near Grant Cross was when they wanted to bleed the town dry of what little it had left to offer the world. Needless to say it had been a fine line between the three men getting dragged down into the world of drug running and gang violence. Luckily each had a muse that meant they had managed to stay on the straight and narrow even through some hard times.

DeSean's family life had often put a stress on him, his mother had him young and needless to say his fathers level of maturity had never grown constantly putting his parents at odds with each other. It all culminated in one row getting entirely out of hand, his mother having turned a gun on his father and telling him to get out of town and never come back. Sometimes DeSean missed that presence in his life, but the fortitude and unrelenting determination of his mother to make sure they could make ends meet had always inspired him. Although seeing those intense emotions up close and personal had made him fascinated by the human psyche and the subconscious thoughts that hid under the surface of straight faced individuals. With the little amount of educational opportunities he had at school, it was a natural intuition for people that had allowed him to become talented in the field of journalism. Covering his high school games, even though he played in a large number of them, getting an piercing insight to the other players on his team. His intuition always seemed to tell him how far he could push a person with his questions, so perfectly treading the line of what was acceptable and what wasn't.

Tyler had grown up dreaming of playing in the NFL like all the kids from his area, by the time he was 14 even though he had the physique and aptitude for it, his passion for playing the game had faded somewhat. Luckily he found respite in watching the game of football through the lens of a camera, it was certainly one Christmas present that he would be enternally grateful for. He fell in love with his new found hobby, before long learning how to capture people in all the right angles, a natural instinct for when to capture the perfect sporting shot making him the head photographer for all of the high school sporting occasions. Between him and DeSean they headed a perfect one-two on the school newspaper, DeSean capturing the pressing insights into the players lifes, and Tyler gathering shots of their sporting victories in all their glory.

Stephon wasn't like his two friends, he had put his athletic body to good use, not wanting to waste the gift that god had so clearly given him. A man of his height was a behemoth on the football field, playing at defensive tackle he destroyed opposing offensive lines with his strength and speed off the ball. Unfortunately a ill timed injury had curtailed his college career before it had even begun, no scout was interesting in offering a scholarship to a player from a small town with a history of injuries. Luckily when he was at his lowest Tyler and DeSean had picked him up and provided him with paid work as part of their latest enterprise. Stephon drove the van and looked out for the 'talent' as they called them.

Even though they were proud black men, sometimes you had to play on the stereotypes to ensure you had enough food to feed yourself and your family. Once they had left high school, DeSean and Tyler had put their talents to good use. Hiring a small van they patrolled the streets of Grant Cross looking for impressionable young white girls. DeSean hit them with his trademark charm, whilst Tyler used his knack for finding the perfect angles to record what happened. Sometime they just got a particularly revealing interview with a little bit of flesh shown, sometimes they got really lucky and found a white girl that had always been a little more curious of what a black man could do for her. Anything they shot that looked half decent they sold on to one of the hotshot porn companies down in L.A. Luckily god had blessed them both with incredibly sized manhoods to go with their other athletic gifts. It kept them with a roof above their heads whilst turning over enough profit for them to try and save up and get out of the awful town they had been born in.

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"Hey guys, I think I've spotted one!" Stephon shouted from the front. The girl he had spotted looked like just their type. From behind they could see her brunette hair flowing down her back, and the way she walked only served to make her body look more attractive. Her ass swaying with the way she walked, the leather jacket she wore showing off the fact her body had more than a little amount of curve to it.

"Damnnn! She is exactly what we are looking for. Pull over and offer her a lift, tell her she looks lost. She clearly ain't from around her." DeSean said, climbing back down to sit in the back of the van. From what he had seen of the woman, he certainly hoped she was the kind of talent that gave them something decent to shoot. As he sat back Tyler passed him the half smoked joint they had lit some minutes ago, as he pressed it to his lips he took a big hit. Inhaling the weed laced smoke as far back as he could before breathing out, the back of van was a haze of weed laced smoke.

"Hey girl! You look lost, you want us to give you a lift to the nearest metro station?" Stephon shouted over to the girl as he pulled the van over to where she was walking. "It's clear you ain't from round here, and I don't want to read in the papers about some white girl getting murdered when I could of helped her." Stephon said, a charming smile on his face. He didn't look like the kind of guy that could cause trouble, it was rare for such a big guy to have such a trustworthy face.
 
Chloe was walking at a decent pace, but the cold winter air was undoubtedly rather biting, and certainly made the walk a little less pleasant. But the truth was, the run down neighborhood, the lack of foot traffic, and the ways the shadows were beginning to creep across the wide avenue told the attractive young brunette that it might not be somewhere she wanted to linger for too long. Grant Cross was certainly not the sort of place that girls like Chloe Schmidt wouldn't normally wind up; indeed it was a part of town which was primarily home to low-grade housing estates, welfare projects, and old brownstones which had mostly laid empty since the 2010 crash; repossessed by opportunistic lenders and bought up by speculators and investors like Michael Schmidt - Chloe's father! Grant Cross had, at one time, been an up and coming area, and it had promised much for the new Italian, Irish and African-American residents who'd moved in to take up jobs in the large port and nearby steelworks. But, soon enough the place had gone downhill; the fat cats in city hall had withdrawn all the investment, the money and the jobs evaporating along with the opportunities for the now predominantly black community. Chloe didn't like the look of the district, and as she strode down the wide decrepit boulevard she did reflect that her dad was right about the run-down district, perhaps the lazy people who lived there did need to take responsibility; AND they needed to accept the investment from people like her family, and her dads friends and partners!

Despite dressing down rather substantially - in her casual tight pink abercrombie and fitch t-shirt, her tight black and pink yoga-pants, classic half-length black leather jacket and her short brown leather ankle boots - Chloe looked out of place. Even from a distance Chloe knew that it was obvious that she didn't fit in; Grant Cross was not the sort of place that she'd ever normally be caught dead. The sort of people she'd seen milling around - when there had been people - were simply not the type that Chloe Schmidt cared to be around. Now, she simply wanted to get the hell out of there... as the light was fading she only had one thought... "Shit, where the hell are all the goddamn taxis? why are there no fucking buses even?" she muttered, wanting to swear as she suddenly heard the van pulling up behind her...

Shit... what now... The haughty young city girl mused as she turned briefly shot her gaze sideways to take in the surprisingly well-maintained gray van. It almost rolled alongside Chloe as she slowed her pace just a little a little and clutched her iPhone and her small pink purse both a little tighter, her hands stuffed firmly in the pockets of her nice and rather form-fitting black leather jacket.

"Erm... hi" Chloe retorted to the shouted greeting, slowing her stride just a little, and casting her eye over the large black guy who was leaning out of the window, then towards the other two occupants of the big gray van... one of them - rather curiously - with a small video camera, and the other on the wheel. "You know, no offense, but I'm pretty sure I know where I'm going! It's not far up here anyways..." Chloe added. She hated herself for the thought, but she didn't really have too much time for all the black guys she had met; they always had a little too much attitude, a chip on their shoulder, and some stupid opinion that the world owed them something. It certainly didn't help that her father had always had nothing but bad dealings with them; and he'd shared his opinions on more than a few occasions... but the van kept rolling beside her, and finally Chloe was forced to turn and deal with it... Eugh... this is the last thing I need she figured, gritting her teeth and turning towards her new "traveling companions".

"You know, I really do appreciate the concern, but I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna be around here any longer than I need to be! Juuuuust gonna find a taxi, a bus or a metro and get the hell outta here!" Chloe intoned, finally taking her hands from her pockets and turning to look at the van as it rolled to a stop 5 yards in front of her, aligned with the curb, giving her a much better look at the occupants... All 3 of them were black, and they seemed to have the look of the confident, entitled, cocky, annoying athletes that Chloe had often bumped into back in college; and even back then they had never impressed her all that much, even if one or two of her friends had joked that they might be her type but she "just didn't know it". Chloe had never had the nerve or the honesty to admit that black guys just "couldn't" be her type, even in the most liberal company! She hated it, but she knew that deep down she didn't really agree with "that sort of thing", but she certainly didn't consider herself racist... it was just, well, different.

"The metro is just up here!" Chloe bluffed, figuring she could at least give an air of confidence, and send the guys on their way.
 
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