Post by Joseph Alvarez on Apr 15, 2015 9:34:37 GMT -5
Joseph Alvarez
BASICS
[attr="class","cafappscrb"]Name: Joseph Carulo Alvarez
Alias: Lupo Diavolo (Demon Wolf), his former mob handle. Cane da Giustizia (Hound of Justice) is used in current times as his codename. He's comfortable enough with his current status as Interpol's 'dog' to not mind his colleagues simply referring to him as 'Cane'.
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Orientation: Straight
City: Wizen City, Nue (Formerly Castelia City, Unova)
Class: Interpol Agent
Occupation: Field Agent for Interpol specializing in tracking and retrieval, Occasionally trains Service Pokemon.
Rank: Agent
Alias: Lupo Diavolo (Demon Wolf), his former mob handle. Cane da Giustizia (Hound of Justice) is used in current times as his codename. He's comfortable enough with his current status as Interpol's 'dog' to not mind his colleagues simply referring to him as 'Cane'.
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Orientation: Straight
City: Wizen City, Nue (Formerly Castelia City, Unova)
Class: Interpol Agent
Occupation: Field Agent for Interpol specializing in tracking and retrieval, Occasionally trains Service Pokemon.
Rank: Agent
[PTabbedContent]
[PTab=APPEARANCE]
[PTab=PERSONALITY]
[PTab=HISTORY]
[PTab=POKEMON]
[PTab=MISC]
[PTab=RP SAMPLE]
[/PTabbedContent={border:0px;tabgap:1;max-height:350px;width:700px;}]
[PTab=APPEARANCE]
[attr="class","cafappscra"]Are there any physical attributes people should take notice of? Do they have piercings, a tattoo? scars etc. You may also write out a description if you'd like but it's not necessary.
[/PTab={tab-color:#E3E3E3;tab-background-color:#FFFFFF;tab-border-width:1px;tab-border-style:solid;tab-border-color:#e3e3e3;tab-alignment:left;;tab-font-size:10px;tab-font-family:tahoma;tab-letter-spacing:1px;tab-text-transform:uppercase;tab-hover-background-color:#eaeaea;tab-hover-color:#ffffff;tab-selected-background-color:#19c9e6;tab-selected-color:#ffffff;}]- General descript: Subject stands at 6'3ft, 265lbs with grey-blue eyes, sharp features and dark brown hair going down to halfway of his back which is worn loose off-duty and in a half-pontail on-duty. Subject appears to be well-built with a tan/olive complexion. Sports a beard
- Subject's entire left arm seems to be adorned with an intricate tribal sleeve tattoo. One ear is pierced, often seen sporting a small gold hoop or feathers.
- According to former records, subject was involved in a prison assault resulting in a deep slash wound to the right side of the abdomen. Wound is still in its later healing stages and may prove to be a weakness in battle.
- Subject seems to have an affinity for jeans and leather jackets or hoodies and has also taken to wearing his late brother's combat vest during Pokemon training sessions due to his tendency of becoming physical with them.
Usual examples of outfits as as listed below:
[PTab=PERSONALITY]
[attr="class","cafappscra"]Anyone knowing anything about his past might be inclined to a bit of shock meeting Joseph for the first time, given the man's easy-going, genial facade; After all, even in the business of Cosa Nostra it's better to be able to talk someone into doing something you want them to rather than beat it out of them, much as the second option makes for faster results.
The best way to describe the man would be dog-like---On one hand loyal, protective, trusting and valiant to a fault, and on the other violent, ruthless, vindictive and vengeful. He craves brotherhood, missing both Matt and his mob friends terribly and while prone to complaining about any given situation is loyal to the death when it comes to his team and those he trusts enough to be his friends.
He tends to be generous with money towards the downtrodden and adores the street busking scene. It doesn't stop him from being occasionally amoral however---if a street urchin were to shoplift food or necessities, he wouldn't bat an eye at them and would even cover for them if being pursued by the local cops.
He dotes on his daughter Jayda, in his own words the thing he's proudest of in this lifetime and does his best to give her all the things a child could ever want, serving as her homeschool tutor on the road as well. She is the light of his life and his secret keeper as he will tell anyone and he harbors the secret hope of one day finding someone capable of being her mother once more.
When it comes to Pokemon, Joseph takes a decidedly pragmatic view of their relationship to him. Prior to Nue, he has had vast experience training them to serve the mob but has never had one for himself and as such sees them not so much as equals but lower-ranking packmates and tools, though he keeps the mindset that tools should be well taken care of for maximum efficiency---besides, retraining a new tool to take the place of the old one is always a hassle and a waste of valuable time (Which is why he despises underground pit fights. Needless waste of a good Pokemon's life).
Kindness is offered to those which are willing to listen to him and obey orders as required. However, he isn't against physically reprimanding those which refuse to work with him or become violent--as far as he's concerned, they need to learn their place in the pack.
He is a harsh master, but a fair one.
Physical contact is a huge thing for him---he's very visceral in shows of affection (Back thumps, fistbumps, shoulder claps, some might even find his need to touch them annoying at times) and dislike (Fists fly easily for him, as do other things). It extends to his method of Pokemon training as well, which sees his arms covered in a litany of scars and burns from his sessions wth them.
He’s dry-witted and pragmatic in battle, seeing no place for honor where honor will not be offered to you in return. As he puts it;
“Never let scoundrels dictate the terms of honor to you. They'll always use it to manipulate good men into doing stupid things.”
Ambitions: For the moment, as someone with demons in his past the only thing on Joseph's mind is starting out his new life on the right foot and providing for his daughter.
Should the fates be kind however, he hopes to one day open a Service Pokemon training center (Specifically to train Pokemon for use of law enforcement and the disabled) due to the shortage of work-based trainers and lack of time on the behalf of police personnel.
He also hopes to climb the ladder of Interpol to completely shut down the criminal enterprises plaguing his home city so he and his daughter may one day return there without a black market bounty on their heads.
[/PTab]The best way to describe the man would be dog-like---On one hand loyal, protective, trusting and valiant to a fault, and on the other violent, ruthless, vindictive and vengeful. He craves brotherhood, missing both Matt and his mob friends terribly and while prone to complaining about any given situation is loyal to the death when it comes to his team and those he trusts enough to be his friends.
He tends to be generous with money towards the downtrodden and adores the street busking scene. It doesn't stop him from being occasionally amoral however---if a street urchin were to shoplift food or necessities, he wouldn't bat an eye at them and would even cover for them if being pursued by the local cops.
He dotes on his daughter Jayda, in his own words the thing he's proudest of in this lifetime and does his best to give her all the things a child could ever want, serving as her homeschool tutor on the road as well. She is the light of his life and his secret keeper as he will tell anyone and he harbors the secret hope of one day finding someone capable of being her mother once more.
When it comes to Pokemon, Joseph takes a decidedly pragmatic view of their relationship to him. Prior to Nue, he has had vast experience training them to serve the mob but has never had one for himself and as such sees them not so much as equals but lower-ranking packmates and tools, though he keeps the mindset that tools should be well taken care of for maximum efficiency---besides, retraining a new tool to take the place of the old one is always a hassle and a waste of valuable time (Which is why he despises underground pit fights. Needless waste of a good Pokemon's life).
Kindness is offered to those which are willing to listen to him and obey orders as required. However, he isn't against physically reprimanding those which refuse to work with him or become violent--as far as he's concerned, they need to learn their place in the pack.
He is a harsh master, but a fair one.
Physical contact is a huge thing for him---he's very visceral in shows of affection (Back thumps, fistbumps, shoulder claps, some might even find his need to touch them annoying at times) and dislike (Fists fly easily for him, as do other things). It extends to his method of Pokemon training as well, which sees his arms covered in a litany of scars and burns from his sessions wth them.
He’s dry-witted and pragmatic in battle, seeing no place for honor where honor will not be offered to you in return. As he puts it;
“Never let scoundrels dictate the terms of honor to you. They'll always use it to manipulate good men into doing stupid things.”
Ambitions: For the moment, as someone with demons in his past the only thing on Joseph's mind is starting out his new life on the right foot and providing for his daughter.
Should the fates be kind however, he hopes to one day open a Service Pokemon training center (Specifically to train Pokemon for use of law enforcement and the disabled) due to the shortage of work-based trainers and lack of time on the behalf of police personnel.
He also hopes to climb the ladder of Interpol to completely shut down the criminal enterprises plaguing his home city so he and his daughter may one day return there without a black market bounty on their heads.
[PTab=HISTORY]
[attr="class","cafappscra"]Formerly Castelia City’s most-feared enforcer of the local mob, if it’s one thing Joseph Alvarez knows how to do, it’s getting the job done no matter the cost.
Born Joseph Aguilar, he was the second son to immigrants from Alto Mare, Yiska and Patricia who both followed the promise of the Castelian Dream but were rudely brought down to reality by the poverty they soon faced. Yiska was as old-fashioned as fathers came, hard-nosed and no-nonsense about the situation they were in and opened a boxing school as a side business to the sundry store the family ran and it was here among the brawlers and regular weeknight scuffles that Joseph whom as a child was targeted both for his size and poor reading skills found solace in. Unlike his more benevolent though aloof brother Mattias who excelled in his grades enough to be offered a spot in the local police academy, Joseph's temperament and pugnacious nature coupled with the boy growing up to be built like a brick outhouse marked him out as trouble.
And trouble had a way of finding him early on; marveled by his size and talent at fisticuffs, Joseph was offered to be a part of the mob before he even left high school, starting out as a runner for illegal goods and then a dealer and then an enforcer.
His ability to track down elusive targets, his fondness for dogs and the absolute ferocity he showed when provoked prompted them to nickname him their ‘Lupo Diavolo’ (Demon Wolf).
Despite his notoriety for violence, he prided himself on a code of conduct once he was offered the position as the mafia branch’s enforcer; Never killing children or mothers, never killing any supposed targets in front of their children and never entering homes unless invited. It made some question his loyalty though no one ever confronted him about it and the mob head, seeing more to lose if they were to let him go rather than allowed him the odd code let him keep it.
All that changed however when he was found to be registered as the father of a four-year old girl whose mother, a young woman he had a relationship with several years prior had died in a recent accident. Rather than take the most sensible route by placing her with his parents or into foster care however, he made the decision to raise her on his own and Jayda whom he affectionately nicknamed ‘Puppycake’ and some of his close mafia friends called ‘Lupetta’ (female wolf-cub) began to chip away at the blithe, cool exterior he wore and it wasn’t long before father and daughter were nigh inseparable.
Worried that his line of work would mean danger for her in the near future and not wanting her to lose her affections for him when she found out her papa wasn’t the hero she thought he was, the decision to retire from the mob was one carefully made and to his surprise, the heads agreed on one condition;
There was one more job he had to do for them, and he would be free from their services.
What he hadn't counted on however, was for there to be a contract on his head during their turf war with a rival gang as well as the police being involved in the fracas which led to his brother Mattias protecting him at the cost of the man's own life when these hired hitmen attempted to take him out.
Grief led him to stay by his brother's side even as the rest of them ran and he was arrested by the officials.
During his time incarcerated however, he refused to speak to any of the officers and paid no heed to their threats, until a man codenamed Looker was introduced to him. The first thing this man did was assure him that his daughter was safe, and for the first time Joseph spoke candidly to an officer of the law.
Looker explained to him that informants had divulged information that the hit which was put out on him during the turf war came from his own mob, the leaders afraid that leaving him alive would mean that he would be a 'squealer' and deciding that he was better off dead than retired.
Fuming from what he saw as outright betrayal for years of service which in the end costed him his brother's life, Joseph decided that if they assumed that he was going to squeal, so be it. Strengthen by Looker's promise to offer amnesty to any of his friends who helped bring down the old mob, he began to work in tandem with the local policemen as their inside informant, all the while paying off his dues in prison and it was here that his talent for training Pokemon became evident as he put to use the skills learned from doing so for the mob to train service Pokemon for use of the local county instead.
While their combined efforts succeeded in breaking up organized crime in Castelia, there was nonetheless a large bounty riding on Joseph's head and after a violent assault in prison, it was made obvious that he was no longer safe within the confines of the city he had called home for twenty years.
Looker, seeing a chance to capitalize on giving him a second chance and at the same time keep him in debt as an informant (Something Joseph is well-aware, scathing and grudgingly appreciative of) suggested he enter a Supergrass program.
Jayda was given the decision to pick the region to which they would move and out of all the well-known countries, singled out Nue as the place to where they would relocate, and now under the new surname of Alvarez, both father and daughter look to carve out a new life on a blank slate.
Or so they hope.
[/PTab]Born Joseph Aguilar, he was the second son to immigrants from Alto Mare, Yiska and Patricia who both followed the promise of the Castelian Dream but were rudely brought down to reality by the poverty they soon faced. Yiska was as old-fashioned as fathers came, hard-nosed and no-nonsense about the situation they were in and opened a boxing school as a side business to the sundry store the family ran and it was here among the brawlers and regular weeknight scuffles that Joseph whom as a child was targeted both for his size and poor reading skills found solace in. Unlike his more benevolent though aloof brother Mattias who excelled in his grades enough to be offered a spot in the local police academy, Joseph's temperament and pugnacious nature coupled with the boy growing up to be built like a brick outhouse marked him out as trouble.
And trouble had a way of finding him early on; marveled by his size and talent at fisticuffs, Joseph was offered to be a part of the mob before he even left high school, starting out as a runner for illegal goods and then a dealer and then an enforcer.
His ability to track down elusive targets, his fondness for dogs and the absolute ferocity he showed when provoked prompted them to nickname him their ‘Lupo Diavolo’ (Demon Wolf).
Despite his notoriety for violence, he prided himself on a code of conduct once he was offered the position as the mafia branch’s enforcer; Never killing children or mothers, never killing any supposed targets in front of their children and never entering homes unless invited. It made some question his loyalty though no one ever confronted him about it and the mob head, seeing more to lose if they were to let him go rather than allowed him the odd code let him keep it.
All that changed however when he was found to be registered as the father of a four-year old girl whose mother, a young woman he had a relationship with several years prior had died in a recent accident. Rather than take the most sensible route by placing her with his parents or into foster care however, he made the decision to raise her on his own and Jayda whom he affectionately nicknamed ‘Puppycake’ and some of his close mafia friends called ‘Lupetta’ (female wolf-cub) began to chip away at the blithe, cool exterior he wore and it wasn’t long before father and daughter were nigh inseparable.
Worried that his line of work would mean danger for her in the near future and not wanting her to lose her affections for him when she found out her papa wasn’t the hero she thought he was, the decision to retire from the mob was one carefully made and to his surprise, the heads agreed on one condition;
There was one more job he had to do for them, and he would be free from their services.
What he hadn't counted on however, was for there to be a contract on his head during their turf war with a rival gang as well as the police being involved in the fracas which led to his brother Mattias protecting him at the cost of the man's own life when these hired hitmen attempted to take him out.
Grief led him to stay by his brother's side even as the rest of them ran and he was arrested by the officials.
During his time incarcerated however, he refused to speak to any of the officers and paid no heed to their threats, until a man codenamed Looker was introduced to him. The first thing this man did was assure him that his daughter was safe, and for the first time Joseph spoke candidly to an officer of the law.
Looker explained to him that informants had divulged information that the hit which was put out on him during the turf war came from his own mob, the leaders afraid that leaving him alive would mean that he would be a 'squealer' and deciding that he was better off dead than retired.
Fuming from what he saw as outright betrayal for years of service which in the end costed him his brother's life, Joseph decided that if they assumed that he was going to squeal, so be it. Strengthen by Looker's promise to offer amnesty to any of his friends who helped bring down the old mob, he began to work in tandem with the local policemen as their inside informant, all the while paying off his dues in prison and it was here that his talent for training Pokemon became evident as he put to use the skills learned from doing so for the mob to train service Pokemon for use of the local county instead.
While their combined efforts succeeded in breaking up organized crime in Castelia, there was nonetheless a large bounty riding on Joseph's head and after a violent assault in prison, it was made obvious that he was no longer safe within the confines of the city he had called home for twenty years.
Looker, seeing a chance to capitalize on giving him a second chance and at the same time keep him in debt as an informant (Something Joseph is well-aware, scathing and grudgingly appreciative of) suggested he enter a Supergrass program.
Jayda was given the decision to pick the region to which they would move and out of all the well-known countries, singled out Nue as the place to where they would relocate, and now under the new surname of Alvarez, both father and daughter look to carve out a new life on a blank slate.
Or so they hope.
[PTab=POKEMON]
[attr="class","cafappscra"]Note: Will be picking Joseph's extra starter from the Starter List (Growlithe).
SPECIES: Murkrow
ALIAS: Gambit
GENDER: Male
ABILITY: Super Luck
MOVE SET: Haze | Night Shade | Wing Attack | Pursuit
TEAM DESIGNATION: Surveillance/Recon
NOTES:
- General traits: Caring | Intelligent | Experienced | Friendly
- One-eyed, bears an eyepatch
- Night Shade takes form of shadow illusions.
- A rescued former military-issued Pokemon, has an understanding of Morse Code enough to use it to communicate simple words (knows up to 100 human words) with trainer through a series of caws and clicks.
SPECIES: Growlithe
ALIAS: Jaeger
GENDER: Male
ABILITY: Intimidate
MOVE SET: Crunch | Flamethrower | Odor Sleuth | Outrage
TEAM DESIGNATION: Offensive
NOTES:
- General traits: Loyal | Vicious | Arrogant | Protective
- Larger than normal, based off a Caucasian Ovcharka
- A rescue from a Pit fighting ring, while loyal is extremely vicious in battle (to the point of maiming) and requires behavioral training.
SPECIES: Ralts
ALIAS: Siegfried 'Sig'
GENDER: Male
ABILITY: Trace
MOVE SET: Disarming Voice | Teleport | Psychic | Hypnosis
TEAM DESIGNATION: Intel
NOTES:
- General traits: Condescending | Intuitive | Empathetic | Determined
- Disarming Voice takes form of what is understood through Hypnosis to be the target's emotional weakness ie. a child, or something it fears.
- Communicates mainly through images.
- Assigned by Interpol to keep tabs on his behavior.
[/PTab]SPECIES: Murkrow
ALIAS: Gambit
GENDER: Male
ABILITY: Super Luck
MOVE SET: Haze | Night Shade | Wing Attack | Pursuit
TEAM DESIGNATION: Surveillance/Recon
NOTES:
- General traits: Caring | Intelligent | Experienced | Friendly
- One-eyed, bears an eyepatch
- Night Shade takes form of shadow illusions.
- A rescued former military-issued Pokemon, has an understanding of Morse Code enough to use it to communicate simple words (knows up to 100 human words) with trainer through a series of caws and clicks.
SPECIES: Growlithe
ALIAS: Jaeger
GENDER: Male
ABILITY: Intimidate
MOVE SET: Crunch | Flamethrower | Odor Sleuth | Outrage
TEAM DESIGNATION: Offensive
NOTES:
- General traits: Loyal | Vicious | Arrogant | Protective
- Larger than normal, based off a Caucasian Ovcharka
- A rescue from a Pit fighting ring, while loyal is extremely vicious in battle (to the point of maiming) and requires behavioral training.
SPECIES: Ralts
ALIAS: Siegfried 'Sig'
GENDER: Male
ABILITY: Trace
MOVE SET: Disarming Voice | Teleport | Psychic | Hypnosis
TEAM DESIGNATION: Intel
NOTES:
- General traits: Condescending | Intuitive | Empathetic | Determined
- Disarming Voice takes form of what is understood through Hypnosis to be the target's emotional weakness ie. a child, or something it fears.
- Communicates mainly through images.
- Assigned by Interpol to keep tabs on his behavior.
[PTab=MISC]
[attr="class","cafappscra"]
Joseph is currently tied to Interpol under a Supergrass Program and answers to Looker (Whom he occasionally confides in) as much as he would his leader.
He's an omniglot speaking the desert dialect, Unovan english, Alto Marean (Italian) and Alamos/Alamese (Spanish).
He also suffers from Dyscalculia and can never make sense of complicated equations, disliking numbers as a whole. His daughter often helps him with keeping track of their expenses. This means he's pretty useless in any of the missions which require numerical precision and most of her maths lessons which she tends to take off a long-distance radio school instead.
Proficient in lock-picking, hand-to hand combat (including the usage of knives and knuckledusters) and firearms.
His daughter Jayda is as portrayed below:
[/PTab]Joseph is currently tied to Interpol under a Supergrass Program and answers to Looker (Whom he occasionally confides in) as much as he would his leader.
He's an omniglot speaking the desert dialect, Unovan english, Alto Marean (Italian) and Alamos/Alamese (Spanish).
He also suffers from Dyscalculia and can never make sense of complicated equations, disliking numbers as a whole. His daughter often helps him with keeping track of their expenses. This means he's pretty useless in any of the missions which require numerical precision and most of her maths lessons which she tends to take off a long-distance radio school instead.
Proficient in lock-picking, hand-to hand combat (including the usage of knives and knuckledusters) and firearms.
His daughter Jayda is as portrayed below:
 |  |
[PTab=RP SAMPLE]
[attr="class","cafappscra"]RP Sample: [Based off a superhero RP]
And I’m staring down the barrel of a .45,
And I’m swimming through the ashes of another life
There’s no real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a .45
The flickering of the lights hardly seemed to register in the back of his mind as he sank deeper into weathered La-Z boy, the Smith and Wessons in his lap which had seen years of loyal service absentmindedly turned over in his hands as though this was his first time seeing the weapon.
For a moment everything from the last three days seemed a blur as Joseph Aguilar tried to recollect when it was that he first learned to fire a gun, what his first slide bite felt like, how fast it took to reload a magazine and who had taught him the old trick of keeping both eyes open when aiming for the head to kill.
And when you took one life, when the cold dread of realization set in, when the sink was churning violently with a mixture of running water and vomit the next morning and you looked into the mirror to a murderer where once stood an innocent, the world becomes a little darker even as the lines showed themselves that much clearer.
There was no turning back, the one act setting loose a chain reaction like dominos tipping one another over in an elaborate pattern to destroy one image and paint another in its place; that of a ruthless, efficient enforcer for whom the smell of gunpowder was no longer an abnormality.
This was the path he had chosen, this was the path he would walk for those who had offered him a place to belong, money, power; everything a childhood spent in the dregs of poverty had made seem like a faraway dream.
This was real. Real as the cold, hard cash he was hastily given this morning as clipped conversations of plane tickets, aliases and new banking accounts were mentioned in hushed whispers. Real as the bruises and the scrapes and the cuts and painful throbbing of the gunshot wound in his left shoulder which had been lucky to barely miss nicking an artery according to the cartel’s back alley doctor.
Real as the crimson coating his hands as he tried to stanch the flow from the gaping holes in his brother’s chest, begging the older man to hold on only to taste iron in his mouth as the man’s failing attempt at last words expelled a spray of blood from rapidly-filling lungs into his face.
He had felt and heard Matt’s last breath leave in a shuddering death rattle, the first time he had been this close to a dying person and it was a sound which had been echoing in the back of his head for three nights in a row, slowing driving him deeper and deeper into the spiraling pit of despair.
And before Joseph had any conscious idea of what he was doing, the muzzle of the gun found itself pointed to temple, cold steel sending shivers down his back as he wondered if this was what it felt like for those he had sent to the afterlife execution-style . He vaguely registered the fact that his fingers were resting on the trigger, wondering why it felt so alien when the direction of the target was reversed.
It wasn’t Matt’s fault—his brother had been everything he wasn’t; a good man with a family merely doing his job who had paid the price for letting heart take over duty in the line of fire. Who had died for trying to save him.
It wasn’t the Sinaloa as much as he would have liked to believe it was, no; They hardly knew who Matt was and in the turf war between themselves, the cops and the Indian Posse mistook the man for another Narc. They were friends trying to protect him in their own way, misguided as it was but it was all they knew. Even in the revelation that he had been brothers with a police officer of which would have been a terrible crime for him, they had been remorseful; promising to protect his parents in Matt’s stead as the cartel heads decreed his exile to a state up north where none of the cops could find him.
And just as his parents had lost one son, they were going to lose another.
He didn’t know what was worse; That he would have to vanish from their lives without a word or the looks on their faces when they realized that he had inadvertently caused the death of his own brother.
It was blood on his hands, his cross to bear and as the same mantra of ‘I don’t deserve to live’ cross his mind for the umpteenth time he shut his eyes without another glance at the folded note on the table just when the lights began to flicker again, this time more persistently as a small voice from down the corridor to the shared bedroom piped up.
“Papa?”
The gun was almost dropped in his haste to hide it though he managed to catch himself quickly enough, stashing it out of sight just as the waifish girl’s head poked out of the corner, wide-eyed and baleful.
“’Ey darlin’.”
the young father crooned as he eased himself up from the seat, bleak thoughts dashed to the back of his head for the moment so he could scoop up the child in his arms.
“I thought you were sleeping! Boogeyman tried to creep outta the closet again? You want me to check up on ‘im?”
“I was thirsty. And then the lights went funny.”
Jayda Aguilar murmured quietly as she clung to him like a Koala.
“I’m scared.”
“Nah princess, ain’t nothing scary about it, I promise. I bet it’s just some idiots downstairs messing around with the fuse box, that’s all.”
Craddling the little thing as though she was made of china, the cartel enforcer strode over to the lone bedroom in the apartment to settle her into bed once more, stroking her hair as he picked up the stuffed bunny which had fallen off the edge of the bed and slipped it under her arms.
His own mattress on the floor nearby hadn’t seen any use in the past nights though the lack of sleep had yet to catch up to him.
“I’ma tell ‘em to knock it off in a bit yeah? You want milk or water?”
“Chocolate milk?”
came the tentative reply as he chuckled a little and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Stay snug in here for a sec. One glass coming right up for the little lady.”
He stood up and walked down the corridor towards the small kitchenette area, heart still pounding furiously in his chest that his daughter had almost—
Almost seen—
Christ what was he thinking?
The fridge door slammed shut as the small glass of chocolate milk was held shakily in both hands and he was about to make his was back to the bedroom down the corridor when he stopped dead in his tracks and the sound of glass shattering on the floor echoed through the walls, milk painting the wooden grain of timber strips in macabre Dali-like strokes.
There stood a man, wrinkled and wizened in the hall where he had sat several minutes ago, yet the doors were locked, bolted shut, the windows unopened and the feral, wrathful glare in those drooping eyes were enough to make him take a step backwards.
“How did you get in here?”
He demanded, cursing himself over and over again that this man stood right between him and the gun near the couch.
“What do you want?!”
A dreamcatcher was tossed his way as he caught it neatly in one hand—this one was bloodied, the design specific to what some of the
Indian Posse had used and immediately he felt like a bucket of ice had been emptied into his stomach.
“An eye for an eye.”
The elderly man rasped resolutely, finger pointed at him in accusation.
“You killed my son. I will have blood.”
[/PTab]And I’m staring down the barrel of a .45,
And I’m swimming through the ashes of another life
There’s no real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a .45
The flickering of the lights hardly seemed to register in the back of his mind as he sank deeper into weathered La-Z boy, the Smith and Wessons in his lap which had seen years of loyal service absentmindedly turned over in his hands as though this was his first time seeing the weapon.
For a moment everything from the last three days seemed a blur as Joseph Aguilar tried to recollect when it was that he first learned to fire a gun, what his first slide bite felt like, how fast it took to reload a magazine and who had taught him the old trick of keeping both eyes open when aiming for the head to kill.
And when you took one life, when the cold dread of realization set in, when the sink was churning violently with a mixture of running water and vomit the next morning and you looked into the mirror to a murderer where once stood an innocent, the world becomes a little darker even as the lines showed themselves that much clearer.
There was no turning back, the one act setting loose a chain reaction like dominos tipping one another over in an elaborate pattern to destroy one image and paint another in its place; that of a ruthless, efficient enforcer for whom the smell of gunpowder was no longer an abnormality.
This was the path he had chosen, this was the path he would walk for those who had offered him a place to belong, money, power; everything a childhood spent in the dregs of poverty had made seem like a faraway dream.
This was real. Real as the cold, hard cash he was hastily given this morning as clipped conversations of plane tickets, aliases and new banking accounts were mentioned in hushed whispers. Real as the bruises and the scrapes and the cuts and painful throbbing of the gunshot wound in his left shoulder which had been lucky to barely miss nicking an artery according to the cartel’s back alley doctor.
Real as the crimson coating his hands as he tried to stanch the flow from the gaping holes in his brother’s chest, begging the older man to hold on only to taste iron in his mouth as the man’s failing attempt at last words expelled a spray of blood from rapidly-filling lungs into his face.
He had felt and heard Matt’s last breath leave in a shuddering death rattle, the first time he had been this close to a dying person and it was a sound which had been echoing in the back of his head for three nights in a row, slowing driving him deeper and deeper into the spiraling pit of despair.
And before Joseph had any conscious idea of what he was doing, the muzzle of the gun found itself pointed to temple, cold steel sending shivers down his back as he wondered if this was what it felt like for those he had sent to the afterlife execution-style . He vaguely registered the fact that his fingers were resting on the trigger, wondering why it felt so alien when the direction of the target was reversed.
It wasn’t Matt’s fault—his brother had been everything he wasn’t; a good man with a family merely doing his job who had paid the price for letting heart take over duty in the line of fire. Who had died for trying to save him.
It wasn’t the Sinaloa as much as he would have liked to believe it was, no; They hardly knew who Matt was and in the turf war between themselves, the cops and the Indian Posse mistook the man for another Narc. They were friends trying to protect him in their own way, misguided as it was but it was all they knew. Even in the revelation that he had been brothers with a police officer of which would have been a terrible crime for him, they had been remorseful; promising to protect his parents in Matt’s stead as the cartel heads decreed his exile to a state up north where none of the cops could find him.
And just as his parents had lost one son, they were going to lose another.
He didn’t know what was worse; That he would have to vanish from their lives without a word or the looks on their faces when they realized that he had inadvertently caused the death of his own brother.
It was blood on his hands, his cross to bear and as the same mantra of ‘I don’t deserve to live’ cross his mind for the umpteenth time he shut his eyes without another glance at the folded note on the table just when the lights began to flicker again, this time more persistently as a small voice from down the corridor to the shared bedroom piped up.
“Papa?”
The gun was almost dropped in his haste to hide it though he managed to catch himself quickly enough, stashing it out of sight just as the waifish girl’s head poked out of the corner, wide-eyed and baleful.
“’Ey darlin’.”
the young father crooned as he eased himself up from the seat, bleak thoughts dashed to the back of his head for the moment so he could scoop up the child in his arms.
“I thought you were sleeping! Boogeyman tried to creep outta the closet again? You want me to check up on ‘im?”
“I was thirsty. And then the lights went funny.”
Jayda Aguilar murmured quietly as she clung to him like a Koala.
“I’m scared.”
“Nah princess, ain’t nothing scary about it, I promise. I bet it’s just some idiots downstairs messing around with the fuse box, that’s all.”
Craddling the little thing as though she was made of china, the cartel enforcer strode over to the lone bedroom in the apartment to settle her into bed once more, stroking her hair as he picked up the stuffed bunny which had fallen off the edge of the bed and slipped it under her arms.
His own mattress on the floor nearby hadn’t seen any use in the past nights though the lack of sleep had yet to catch up to him.
“I’ma tell ‘em to knock it off in a bit yeah? You want milk or water?”
“Chocolate milk?”
came the tentative reply as he chuckled a little and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Stay snug in here for a sec. One glass coming right up for the little lady.”
He stood up and walked down the corridor towards the small kitchenette area, heart still pounding furiously in his chest that his daughter had almost—
Almost seen—
Christ what was he thinking?
The fridge door slammed shut as the small glass of chocolate milk was held shakily in both hands and he was about to make his was back to the bedroom down the corridor when he stopped dead in his tracks and the sound of glass shattering on the floor echoed through the walls, milk painting the wooden grain of timber strips in macabre Dali-like strokes.
There stood a man, wrinkled and wizened in the hall where he had sat several minutes ago, yet the doors were locked, bolted shut, the windows unopened and the feral, wrathful glare in those drooping eyes were enough to make him take a step backwards.
“How did you get in here?”
He demanded, cursing himself over and over again that this man stood right between him and the gun near the couch.
“What do you want?!”
A dreamcatcher was tossed his way as he caught it neatly in one hand—this one was bloodied, the design specific to what some of the
Indian Posse had used and immediately he felt like a bucket of ice had been emptied into his stomach.
“An eye for an eye.”
The elderly man rasped resolutely, finger pointed at him in accusation.
“You killed my son. I will have blood.”
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DIRECTORY & OOC INFO
Directory Info: [h1]Oniwanbashu[/h1][ul][li][a href=""]Joseph Alvarez[/a] PLAYED BY [u]Original Art[/u], [i]Oniwanbashu[/i]
[/li][/ul]
Continuity: Original
Other Characters: N/A
NEWBIE NOOK
Nook: Evo Pack 2 - Includes: 1 Initial Evolution + 1 Item Induced Evolution + 1 Evolutionary Stone OR 1 Evolutionary Item of your choosing
[/li][/ul]
Continuity: Original
Other Characters: N/A
NEWBIE NOOK
Nook: Evo Pack 2 - Includes: 1 Initial Evolution + 1 Item Induced Evolution + 1 Evolutionary Stone OR 1 Evolutionary Item of your choosing
CODED BY SYLVIE
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