After surviving a bank robbery, with much thanks to Aquaman, Camille decides to complete her training to join the police force; to help people like he did and to redeem herself from a gruesome death that she was too petrified to stop. After being as...
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*2 years later*
Superman had returned, and hope had been restored. The world no longer felt the chaos of his death; crime rates dropped almost immediately and fatal accidents reached an all time low. He now fought against his enemies in a suit similar to his last, but this one looked as if the colour had been washed out of it completely. In other words, it consisted mainly of the shades black and grey.
Amelia had made it her life goal to meet the Man of Steel, so she spent large portions of her holidays in the city of Metropolis. Camille, on the other hand, had completed her training at the academy and been assigned to her first sector - Amnesty Bay.
The two or so policemen that patrolled that area had mentioned that the townsfolk acted quite oddly. At first Camille thought this was an exaggeration, but she quickly discovered that it was an understatement. The people in that small area barely spoke to outsiders at all, and when you asked any questions about the large quantities of fish that rode the tide every few months, they'd dismiss you altogether.
The other law enforcers had failed in gaining an answer to their strange behaviour, but Camille was determined to break their silence. They were hiding something... She just couldn't figure out what it was.
"Afternoon, Mr Maverick." Camille greeted as she sauntered into the centre of Amnesty Bay. It was an incredibly small section that worked as a market place, but instead of having a variety of different shops available, this one had four.
"Officer Hanson." He replied coldly. "Are you here to interrogate me again?"
Maverick was a tall man, and lean as a Greyhound. He wore a sweat-stained T-shirt and shorts that reached just passed his knee-caps. His bare arms and calves were constantly sunburned but never surpassed the redness of his face, and whenever he turned his right leg he revealed a long, jagged scar. It was curved, top and bottom.
"I didn't realise that asking casual questions about the town counted as an interrogation." Camille responded with a lighthearted tone. "I live here now too. I'm just curious for personal reasons."
Maverick rolled his mismatched eyes. "Maybe... Or maybe you're a city slicker trying to make a name for yourself by getting your nose into other people's business."
The man didn't bother waiting for her reply. Without even a sideways glance he staggered into his shop and slammed the door behind him. Camille frowned. She had good reason to assume that he'd locked the door, and so there was no point trying to follow him in.
"Oh, Mrs Johnson!" She suddenly called out as a middle aged woman crossed her path. "Could I ask you a few questions?"
The woman quickened her pace, pretending like she hadn't heard Camille speak. She fumbled with her keys and failed to open the door to her business in the midst of her panic.
