Angela Webb

[Angela Webb]

"Born Helena Jane
With a restless soul
She moved west to California
Became a centerfold"






• • • Angela Nicole Webb• • •
Is that a phased array ultrasonic weapon in your pants, or are you just glad to see me?

"But once you change your name
Well the pieces fall
Now she hardly recognizes herself at all"


"And there’s never any rain, when you want it"

[/color] [/center]

Your Name: Blade
Years Rping: 1
Other Charries: Rhys Williams, Gethin Maddox, Mickey Smith

"A hollow little game, and you’ve won it
Looking for a thrill but you’ve done it all

So long, put your blue jeans back on girl
Go home
Remember Hollywood’s not America
So long put your blue jeans back on girl
Go home
Remember Hollywood’s not America
O yea

And everybody here's
from somewhere else
You can make a million dollars, but you might lose yourself
And you can take the heat will your heart grow cold
They say acting’s just pretending, but even that gets old

And there’s never any rain, when you want it
A hollow little game, and you’ve won it
Looking for a thrill but you’ve done it all

So long, put your blue jeans back on girl
Go home "

"Remember Hollywood’s not America"[/color][/center]

My name: Angela Nicole Webb
Age: 26 years (June 21st, 1984)
Religion: Catholic
Affiliation: UNIT
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Species: Human
Marital Status: Single
Member Title: Ex-Agent/Discharged
Playby: Jessica Biel
Canon or Original?: Original
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Current Residence: London, UK
Parents: Daniel Webb [Father], Victoria (Vicky) Webb [Mother]
Siblings: Capt. William (Bill) Webb [Eldest Brother, deceased UNIT Capt. ]

"So long put your blue jeans back on girl
Go home
Remember Hollywood’s not America

And I know what you do when
I know that you"

"You can be anything you want to be" [/center]

Brief History: Bits of colored glass, it was how Angela remembered her childhood. Her father, Daniel Webb, started as a child actor on the hit show “Keep it in the Family” in the 1970’s. When the show ended, Daniel worked odd acting jobs, but nothing of note, until he took his fathers advice and apprenticed to a family friend who was a glazier, specializing in stained glass mosaics.
Angela had seen a few episodes of her fathers show on late night television, but it was always bits of colored glass that reminded her of the many late nights she spent as a child, watching her father lay out complicated patterns into frameworks, until her mother would collect her for bed. Their home and the attached glazier shop was modest by LA standards, it sat at the base of a cliff, at the top of which were the precariously perched million dollar homes of movie stars and talk show hosts.
Her brother, Bill, was older than her by 6 years. But she was closer to her brother than anyone, and Bill, in his turn, was devoted to her. Bill enlisted in the army right out of college, when Angela was 12, his engineering degree affording him an officer’s rank of 1st Lieutenant. Angela’s early teens were spent helping her mother and father in the shop or taking Krav Maga at a local studio, something Bill had pleaded with her to learn, and she had found that she loved.
Most often, Angela would be on the phone with Bill, talking for hours about a boy she was interested in or Bills time with UNIT, an organization that recruited him from the army. There was a lot he couldn’t say, but Angela knew that what he was doing was special even by UNIT standards. Bill came home on leave once more when he made Captain, en route to his new assignment in London, England under the command of Colonel Mace. He was home for 4 days, of which it took a full two days to get him to tell her about his new assignment. This was unprecedented, as he had never held a secret from his sister for more than a few hours before. So, when he made her swear not to let anyone know he had told her, she knew he was being serious.
He explained that his team was going to be investigating a crashed vessel they believed to be alien in origin. This bit of news startled Angela; it took several hours to convince her that he was not messing with her. She still didn’t know what to believe when it came to aliens, but she knew that Bill fully believed and she accepted it on faith. The day he left for London was the last day she saw him again. When the army reported that he was KIA, they hadn’t found enough to bury, only one charred dog tag that had been found laced into a half burnt boot was left to say who the boot belonged to.
A marker was placed in the family plot that her father had bought when Angela’s Grandmother had died several years earlier. Angela kept her brothers dog tag, putting it on a necklace he had given to her on her birthday. The American flag was presented to her mother and father, who put it up in the shop where they spent most of their time. It was framed by a mosaic that the three of them made together.
The day her brother’s marker was placed, she knew she had to find out what really happened to Bill. She would have to find a way to join UNIT. She intensified her training in Krav Maga and took civilian boot camp training which also including survival training. During high school she joined the ROTC and took college courses in psychology, in her senior year she completed the LDAC and requested infantry on her OML.
She continued for two years after in college full time, to get her bachelors degree in psychology and to complete the ROTC BOLC and requested Ranger school with the 75th Ranger Regiment. There she competed airborne training and Angela was given permission to continue and was assigned to Fort Benning, Georgia for her RASP. She completed the RASP and was tabbed as a Ranger. For three years she led her unit through Afghanistan and Pakistan, assigned to training and recovery missions, anything that she could get that was strange or out of place. Angela’s unit became known amongst the special operations teams in the area as Webb’s Spooks.
On her fourth year, newly tagged as a Major, she was contacted in the field by a UNIT commander and ordered to base. There a Captain Erisa Magambo asked if she would like to join UNIT, Angela accepted on condition that her team comes with her. The Captain accepted this and Angela became a Lieutenant in UNIT assigned to New York, NY.
Angela trained as a UNIT officer and was assigned several times to investigations involving extra-terrestrials. Angela routinely requested over the next three years to be assigned in Colonel Mace’s command in London. Each time, her request was denied without explanation. During an investigation of possible alien tech being sold through black markets, Angela hit on her brothers name in the UNIT database regarding the items recovered. His team was originally tracking these objects when he and his team were KIA in England; she received orders to end the investigation and to brief the team who would be picking it up in the European theatre.
Angela refused and along with her team, all of whom volunteered to continue the assignment, went to England and finished the assignment by investigating targeted black markets and illegal shipments and ultimately salvaging the mostly submerged wreckage of an Osiran pyramid located in the bog of Allen in Ireland. Though the team was successful, they were all reprimanded and Lt. Webb was dismissed for disobeying direct orders. Angela took what savings she had and traveled to London as a civilian, still searching for the reasons behind her brother’s death by interrogating aliens she finds in her nightly hunts.

Likes: Bits of colored glass, old cathedrals, A&W root beer floats, sparring, P!nk, first dates, volunteering to disarm north Vietnamese landmines, surfing, skydiving, French cuisine, watching movies, corona with limes, black coffee, finding the truth, children, dancing, hang-gliding.
Dislikes: Licorice, alien takeovers, running out of ammo, bullies, British food, dark bitter beer, tea, secrets, red tape/bureaucracy, children being hurt, people who stand by and let things happen, smoking.


Strengths: Angela is an expert hand to hand combatant, marksman with rifle or pistol, trained in survival and evasion tactics, tactical analysis and strategic planning. She has a keen ear for dialects and speaks/read French, Russian and Polish fluently. Angela is also a kind and giving person, she volunteers her time and is generous of heart.

Weaknesses: Angela will disobey orders if she feels she knows better or if those orders are the opposite of what she already intends to do, no matter the cost later. Vanity, she is a California girl through and through. She likes dressing well and enjoys looking her best. She dyes her hair from brunette to dirty blonde when it suites her mood. Self-involved, being the only girl in the family and essentially being doted on by everyone in the family made her the princess.

Secrets: She actually wanted to get kicked out of UNIT, felt she was unable to act as she needed to find her brothers killers. Her interactions with secondary radiation from artifacts and alien tech have left her unable to have children.

Fears: Cockroaches, they freak her out. She is afraid that her brothers killer(s) will escape her vengeance.

Habits: twirls her hair with her fingers when she is worrying over a problem. She tears her pastries, breads, etc. instead of biting into them. (a habit picked up from an early childhood of having braces on her teeth)

Overall Personality: Angela is bright and fun with little to say sarcastically. That she is a hardened killer is not the first or even second impression one gets upon meeting her. She genuinely likes to have fun and go out. She is an extrovert and likes putting herself into new situations. She likes sex and does have it on occasion, but isn’t shagging everything she sees. She enjoys having relationships if she can and tries to find someone to date who has a common interest, though she is drawn to artists. She never dates co-workers, but she will have sex with them if it will ease any problems she might have with that person or vise-versa, unless she is seeing someone at the time. She doesn’t cheat on boyfriends.

"So long, put your blue jeans back on girl
Go home
Remember Hollywood’s not America"

"So long put your blue jeans back on girl"[/color][/center]

Quote: Angela was exhausted, it was 5am and she had been walking from club to club and dancing all night. She left Heaven through the front door, which opened into an alley just behind Charing Cross station. Walking down the alley, she made her way to John Adams st., her senses alert for anything in the shadows. She was hunting, using herself as bait; only recently the nighttime prowlers weren’t biting. She stepped off onto the street and got into the Audi A3 she was leasing. After checking her hair in the vanity mirror, she started the car and drove to the NCP parking area near the Waverly House Hotel.
Getting out of the car and grabbing her clutch, she walked down the street to the hotel entrance. They were serving breakfast now, but she couldn’t be bothered. She felt eyes upon her as she made her way across the lobby to the elevator. Her athletic body was finely honed and in the silk, black mini dress, she knew most of the men in the lobby were watching her. She had used tactics like this in UNIT, men notice the body and linger with their eyes, allowing your hands to do things like plant surveillance bugs and pull weapons, all before they even realize it had happened. She pulled the black pumps off as the elevator door closed and went to the 3rd floor.
She had been going out each Friday and Saturday night to the various London clubs, in an effort to lure any nocturnal predators, alien or terrestrial so that she could interrogate them. She had started by checking every black-market and second hand artifact dealer she knew about, with nothing to show for it. Now she was playing the lonely girl, walking to her car parked far away at night. Lately, though the predators have been harder to find.
Angela could have been made as a trap, but since she left no actual predators behind alive, it was hard to know if someone or some-thing had witnessed an event or if it was just the gaps in each predator’s territory giving them warning that something was amiss. Angela mentally shrugged as she slid the straps from her pumps into her left hand, carrying the clutch. She opened the purse and pulled the room access card from it, snapping the clutch, holding a clip of credit cards and cash, a small makeup kit, a pair of steel “knuckles” and a small canister of pepper spray, closed.
Sliding the room card into the lock, she opened the door once the light went green. Holding the door open with her foot, she pulled the access card out of it’s slot and walked into the room placing everything in her hands on the short dresser underneath the wall mounted flatscreen tv. The room was lit by a single sconce on the same wall as the flatscreen, she had left it on knowing that she would be in late as usual.
Angela pulled her dress off and laid it out on the bed, before going over to the closet and retrieving its hanger. When she returned, she grabbed the remote and switched on the tv which was already on the BBC news. She returned the dress to the closet and then unclasped the strapless bra and removed the sheathed knife strapped to her inner thigh before removing her panty hose. The harsh light of the flatscreen revealed her nude form half in shadow in the mirror over the desk. She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde hair and twisted it up into a bun as she made her way into the bathroom. Without turning the light on, she reached in and turned on the tap and once it was nicely warm, got into the shower and washed away the smell of what she termed in her mind “club odor”, the smell of cigarette smoke and other people’s overdone cologne.
Angela liked showering in the dark, it helped her to drop her worries and center herself. Once she was finished, she turned off the tap and stepped out onto the shower mat and pulled a towel from the rack above the toilet. She walked out into the room, wrapping the towel around her when she froze in place.
Something was wrong, something was out of place. Her eyes darted about the room, quickly coming to the envelope on bed. It had not been there when she had come in; she was trained to notice details, to spot things out of place. She moved to the bed grabbing a tissue and her knife from the nightstand and using them to avoid contaminating fingerprint evidence, opened the tucked in flap of the envelope and pulled the neatly folded paper out. It was thick and textured paper, the kind used as stationary… Her eyes went to the desk and saw that the drawer was not fully closed. Whoever had written this letter had used her own stationary from her room. She hadn’t heard a single thing while taking a shower, nothing at all made her think that she could be in danger. That her senses had failed her so utterly made her angry and embarrassed. She noted that nothing else in the room seemed to have been disturbed, and turned her attention back to the folded paper.
Angela unfolded the paper and found a note written in small, cramped letters.
In an effort to hasten your departure from London, I will tell you where to find the answers you seek. It starts in the basement of Bees Pharmacy at 261 Wick Road, Homerton London, E9 5DG. You will need your pocket watch repaired.
It seemed her nightly hunts were finally paying off, at least enough for someone to want her gone but apparently not dead. It could be a trap, but it was also her only lead so far. She put the envelope and note on the desk, checked the door and windows, of which all were locked from the inside. She took the chair form the desk and placed it under the doorknob to prevent easy entry. She took up the towel and finished drying herself off, turned the tv off and went to sleep.
The next morning, she woke as the sun was rising, put on a sports bra, blue running shorts and a gray airflyte hoodie. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and put on her socks and running shoes. It was a morning routine for her, run in the morning and get everything moving. She changed her route each time, and she never ran with music, better not to be an easy target. She returned to the hotel afterwards, sweaty but feeling awake and better than last night. She jogged up the stairs to her room and let herself in, closing the door behind her.
After a shower and getting dressed, Angela walked out of the hotel and took a taxi to her Generations Girls meeting on Golborne Road. Generations girls are a part of the MyGeneration children’s charity organization to which Angela had signed up as a mentor when she had moved into London. The taxi let her off at Trellick tower and she walked past the grey, dower building and through a row of small shops until she came to the squat brick building which housed the community center meeting halls. When she entered the room, several of the girls were already there and ran up to her.
“Miss Webb! I have my design ready –“ a young blonde girl said as another, older girl said over her, “I helped her Miss Webb, it is both of ours.” The younger girl rolled her eyes at the older girl. “You only helped with the background.”
Angela smiled broadly, “I’m sure you both made your own artistic mark on the project. Why don’t you show me what you have before the others get here?” She removed her cardigan and scarf, placing it on the table with her purse and walked to the large tables where paper and colored pencils lay. The girls led her to their part of one of the tables and showed her the rough sketches of their part of the stained glass window that would be installed in the MyGeneration building. The girls were to pair up and design something into the window that inspired them. These two, Katie and Ophelia, had chosen Queen Mary’s gardens in Regent’s Park.
“This looks awesome! I think you chose a very good subject for your part of the design.” Angela smiled at both of them. “Now that you know what your subject is, you will need to start picking your colors.” Angela looked up at the door to see the other girls coming through the door. “Let’s get with your partners and check over your designs. Once you’re ready, or if you need help, call for me and we will go over the design together.” Angela went between the tables checking their designs, helping out when needed. Speaking to them all, she said “I spoke with the glazier, Mr. Stark, yesterday and he has generously set aside a place for us in his building and is providing the materials we will need to complete our window.”
The girls cheered and Angela laughed, “Once we have the designs completed and you have plotted the colors for each part, then we will start meeting in Mr. Starks building. I have already gotten your parents and guardians consents, allowing you to do the project in the glaziers building, but you will have to remember that there are certain rooms off limits to you, such as the kiln room and the setting room.” The two hours were over far too quickly. Angela talked with some of the girls still waiting on someone to pick them up or lingering only to talk. Eventually, the girls were all gone and Angela was left in the room gathering loose supplies and rolling up the designs that were finished.
The door opened behind her as she was putting the colored pencils in their container. Angela continued what she was doing but turned her head to see Vincent Harding, one of the project managers, “It looks like you are making some progress with these girls.” Angela didn’t care for Vincent, his eyes lingered too long, too brazenly on her body and he only seemed to show up when she was alone.
“Well, as it turns out they aren’t hard cases at all, just poor and unguided.” Angela tried to keep her voice light. “Is there something I can do for you?” She willed him to look her in the eyes, eventually they made it up to her face.
“No, I just dropped by to tell you how much we appreciate you volunteering your time and efforts. It’s rare that we find Americans among our volunteers, especially one as lovely as yourself.” Vincent had moved closer as he talked, Angela had not missed the movement or the leer he affected when he assumed she wasn’t looking at him.
“Oh? I didn’t realize that ‘lovely’ was a category volunteers were rated in. Tell me, Mr. Harding,” Angela faced him and looked directly into his eyes, “how is your wife doing? I heard she had a bit of a cold the other day, thought I might drop by and introduce myself, bring her some chicken soup or something.”
Vincent’s eyes went wide for a moment, he hadn’t mentioned his wife. She knew that he had in fact, removed his wedding band each time he had ‘run into’ Angela at the meeting halls, the pale white skin where a wedding ring should be was a giveaway. “Err, umm, yes, she is doing well, getting well over her illness after a few days in bed.” Vincent backed up a few steps, shoulders slightly slumped in defeat. “No need to bother bringing anything for her then. Keep up the good work, it is well appreciated.” And he turned and walked briskly out of the room.
Angela waited until he was out of earshot and then laughed. She shut off the lights and put on her cardigan and placing her scarf in her purse, left the room. It had warmed a bit since this morning so she removed the cardigan, folding it and placing it over her purse as she walked to the café nearby. Ordering a non-fat latte and crescent roll, she sat at a small table in the open air front. She took time, soaking in the afternoon sunlight and tearing pieces of the crescent roll to eat or dropping bits to the small finches who hopped around at her feet and sipped at her latte. Angela knew that soon she would have to find work, if she stayed in London much longer. It was expensive here and her savings were limited. Once she had finished her latte, Angela stopped at a homeless person selling “The Big Issue” and bought several copies. As usual, she would put some of these in the lobby of the hotel, much to the chagrin of the day clerk. Angela took a taxi back to the hotel, dropping off the newsletter onto the publications counter and went up to her room.
She removed her boots and dress and put on a black tank-top shirt, black leather jacket and blue jeans and black combat jump boots. Taking the knife from under her nightstand, she put it in its sheath at the small of her back, under her pants. She transferred the cards and cash from her purse to her pockets. Then slipped the steel knuckles into her jacket pocket. The knife was ceramic, so could pass through most security screens, the knuckles would provide something for them to find instead.
Angela waited for night to fall, the tv on as background noise, staring out of the window at the London skyline. Her hand had strayed to her chest, touching the single dogtag under her shirt. Once it was dark, she left the hotel and walked to her car. She drove to the neighborhood in which Bees Pharmacy was located and parked on the outskirts of that neighborhood, four streets away.
This was not the best area of London she had ever been in. In fact it was what the British would call ‘dodgy’ at the very least. A lone woman walking through these streets at night was going to draw attention, but it couldn’t be helped. It would be much more curious if the officials saw a woman sneaking around rooftops or alleyways; London had more surveillance cameras in public areas than any place she had ever been. It was better to stand out and seem foolish for being in an area like this alone than to be seen as a prowler in a bad neighborhood.
Angela kept her hair down around her face obscuring, as much as she could naturally get away with, any features from cameras that may pick her up. The facial recognition software only worked if they had 5 points or more for matching, the less structural points, the more erroneous and varied the matches. She did not make a direct line for the Bees Pharmacy, but instead took a longer route, walking down alleys and side streets. Eventually, she made it to the rear of Bees, stairs lead down to a basement door which was heavy and metal.
Bang, bang. Angela hit the door a couple of times with her fist, not only alerting whoever was inside but testing the door for its composition. Metal sheeting, wooden core.
A slot two inches high and six inches across slid open at eye level, revealing a pair of very old brown eyes and dark, bushy eyebrows. The owner of the eyes said nothing and waited.
“I need… My pocket watch repaired.” Angela said haltingly, feeling slightly idiotic for saying it.
The slot closed back with a snap. Angela waited for several minutes and was about to bang on the door again when the slot slid back open. A small red lacquered box was held through the slot by aged, slender fingers. Angela took the box and the fingers withdrew quickly, snapping the slot closed again.
Angela looked at the door, then down at the box. With a mental shrug, she walked away without incident. Making sure to keep her face from the public cameras, she made her way back to her vehicle and drove to the hotel. Once she had entered her room, she sat at the desk and untied the twine around the box, opening it to find an old tarnished silver pocket watch sitting in a swatch of red velvet padding. A paper tag, ‘Cardiff’ was tied to the fob with a bit of twine. This wasn’t so much a clue as an invitation to get out of London.
She sat at the desk examining the pocket watch, it was worn but not ill-used, the mechanism worked fine and the front opened revealing only the timepiece and nothing else. If they wanted her dead, someone would have already tried by now. If they wanted her on a wild goose chase, this was a very non-subtle way to do it. Angela placed the box with the watch into her jacket pocket. It shouldn’t take long to get to Cardiff and since she had exhausted every other lead here in London, there was only the children’s workshop keeping her here. She would find someone to take over for her and then leave tomorrow afternoon.

"Go home
Remember Hollywood’s not America
Hollywood’s not America
It’s not America"

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This was made by queen of Blank Pages. Do not Steal or Remove this or she'll track you down and beat you with a marble rolling pin. Colors are from Color Blender. Lyrics are from Hollwood's not america by Ferras and obviously not mine.[/size][/center]

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