Richard Sanchez starter « Thread Started on Jul 10, 2008, 9:05pm »
This is the story of how Richard Sanchez finds Torch and Tunneler, and gets involved in the RP, though I am not actually RPing yet.... --------------------------------------------------------- Richard Sanchez sat sweltering outside in his plastic chair in the hot Nevada sun. A cool day for Nevada but still unpleasant for him. He hated the heat, and hated even more the fact that the items he was looking for might not show up. The police auction was an uneventful one to him, the same collection of small arms, broken-down cars, bloody clothing, and other relics from other petty crimes. Sanchez was looking for "miscellaneous" items from a particular crime, items designed by the infamous stringless puppet master, Andre Toulon. Toulon had become Sanchez's latest pursuit, as one of the few "probables" on a long list of "possibles" that he had written down as part of his job...
Sanchez hated his job, going from place to place, usually having to kill someone or be a part of some unnecessary exorcism, he hated having to skulk around phony-baloney haunted houses with bulky machines rigged up trying to squeeze some sign of paranormal activity out of some relic... Then if he found any verifiable evidence his next duty was to "not tamper with it". "Don't tamper with it, see that no one else does, if there's a possiblity of anyone doing so, make sure they don't get the chance", it was enough to make him spit, so much so that he actively found himself repressing the urge whenever a pompous, cocky superior delivered a similar order to him... At one time he was fine with the job, never used to get boring, payed brilliantly, and the most sickening thing was, he used to get a rise out of how the government always came out on top... Until he found out that he was just like everyone else, everyone else had an invisible eye watching over them, so did he, so did his superiors, so did their superiors... If only he had the power to--
There! He heard it, "mysterious slayings... Bodega Bay... puppets!". There, presented in front of the crowd was a motley Winnebago, next on the lot he saw a small suitcase...
The van went fast, for a negligable price. Then came the case, described as the place where the "perpetrator" kept her "weapons". Sanchez knew exactly what the story behind the case was... That was object that would grant him immense power, something he would have never expected to appear so fortunately in his area!
"100 dollars", the starting bid and the only bid.
Going once, twice, and it was over. Sanchez immediately asked for his winning. The auctioneers blandly handed it over for him to examine. Sanchez sat back down and dug in... The lock was shut tight, but old and rusty, Sanchez was able to pry it open with his swiss army knife. To his dank surprise, the was no puppet.
Sanchez was about to lodge an impotent complaint, when the next item was put up. Taken out of a plastic bag and propped up on a table on the auctioneer's platform. A small figure, dressed in a military uniform complete with a German Kaiser spike atop it's black metal helmet. One arm was missing, a stump with what seemed to be a gunbarrel on it took it's place. It was without a doubt one that was described by eyewitnesses as moving on it's own, setting things aflame, one dubbed by the unseen attacker as "Torch". Sanchez felt more excited than he ever had before, the sight, the mere idea that such an important artifact would almost find him, drop out of the sky and into his direct field of vision drove him mad! The fact that the final killings occurred here, within driving distance, was what first drew Sanchez's attention to Toulon, the modern necromancer. As exciting as the prospect was, Sanchez was nearly sure that the idiot police had destroyed, or at least lost the puppets in the process of taking down their phantom mistress, however when Sanchez heard the auction would take place today, the mere chance of even a blueprint or a broken puppet showing up made the function essential to attend. Now the months of patient obsession would turn up a much-deserved reward, there, a few feet in front of him was an untouched, beautiful puppet with the potential for obediant life, with which he would at last get the chance to defy his own puppet master. It was at arm's length now, nothing more standing in his way...
"100 dollars."
The bid was not Sanchez's. Even with it's dull, firm nature, it shattered him like a gunshot.
A few seconds passed, Sanchez snapped his head back to catch only the slightest glance of where the voice came from: Just another face in the crowd... "Going once... going twice" passed in slow motion before Sanchez spun back around in his seat with a shot;
"125 dollars!"
Same as before, the monotone voice answered;
"...200 dollars".
"Insane!" Sanchez thought, "who else would pay 200 damn dollars for an ugly iron puppet?". Sanchez looked backwards for a better look at his stone-faced, almost totally nondescript nemesis, dressed in a plain black suit like himself, with the same sort of blank formality he was so able to fake... "Incredible... who the hell else knows and how?!?" A flood of possiblities entered his mind... "What if this is someone with the fraternity, someone who's been tracking me? How long? What's going to happen now?". Before he could process everything, the auction was over. The man a few rows behind Sanchez had won... But it wasn't over, no, he would not let them win this one, he was too damn close... If he had to fight, well, then he'd have to, it would be better than taking whatever the fraternity doubtlessly has organized for him now...
"Yes, yes, YES!!", a wide grin spread for a moment from one end of Sanchez's face to another. Not one, but TWO puppets in pristine condition just waiting for him. This one was not the battleship that the other one was, but it seemed to be in top-form for a wooden puppet. The Drill on the top of it's head flashed in the sun, glistening with promise...
But it was challenged with more of the same...
"500 dollars" was the blank man's starting bid, but it didn't hold half the weight as it did before. Sanchez, in his mind was ready to give it all, no matter whether it took him all day fighting uphill with his nemesis.
Sanchez charged back "600 dollars", imitating the smug sonofabitch's firmness ...but he didn't realize that his nemesis had to win.
The next bid added a fourth digit. Neither of the mirror images flinched. The first presented a cocky alternative;
"1,001 dollars..."
"2,000 dollars"
This was a blow... He had said that near-doubling of the ante steep price with not desperation, not deceit, but with only the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice. By now many people had turned their wide-eyed attention towards the two determined rivals and their small wooden prize... Everything sunk in... on the tiny, tiny offchance the genuine sounding firmness had been a bluff, Sanchez tried to end it quick...
"...2,500..."
A mental sigh from the rich, stone faced opponent, before he proved once and for all, he simply had the edge over Sanchez;
"5,000 dollars"
By that bid, the auctioneer had an open-mouthed, gaping smile plastered on his face. No "going once, going twice" this time, that wouldn't come for a long while. After all for the auctioneer himself this had been a very dull auction indeed, up until this small battle of great consequence occurred. By now, he was hungry for more, hopeful that the first black-suited man would not concede to the second so easily! ...Alas, all eyes were on Sanchez and his reflection by now; amused, dumbfounded, disgusted... Sanchez was okay parting with any amount of his money he had amassed over the 16 years he had worked for the organization... But he was not okay with the repercussions. He could not stand to think of "being watched" as he was, he absolutely could not risk being put in some amateur newspaper, having the news travel up the grapevine until it was a small urban legend, spreading the legend of the puppet master until everyone knew of Toulon... until everyone knew of him, of how he was crazy for attempting to "continue the puppet master's legacy" or some malarchy until his "self-inflicted injury", as it would no doubt be reported as... On the off chance that his organization had not yet caught on to him, that his nemesis was just some deranged collector and nothing more, his organization would still catch wind of his activities... they tracked him, no doubt. He guessed they didn't keep tabs on him every minute of every day, which is why they had not killed him yet, and how he managed to establish one private workplace in the desert. However, they would know if thousands of dollars were spent, and they would find out what they were spent on, perhaps by interviewing inquisitive attendees.... Richard remained neutral in his seat. He lost the auction... But that would not, would not, stop him...
"Sold!" shouted the auctioneer a little disappointedly. There were no more puppets. The blank man immediately got up and headed towards the side of the auction to claim his prize, only to be held up by one of the curious officers. Sanchez got up with his newest purchase along with his usual case and quickly moved into a nearby alley. Without looking closely at the enigmatic contents of the thing, he transferred them to his official attache, and scattered the now insignificant documents in a various selection of trashcans, before taking his case, leaving the other behind, and rapidly making his way back to the continuing mediocrity.
Immediately, Sanchez began looking for his plundered prize, only to find his opponent long gone.
Sanchez immediately took possibilities into his head. The man couldn't have gotten far, he was only switching the contents of the cases for a few seconds, and it seemed he was being caught up when he last turned his back... No commotion, which ruled out the possibility that the man had stolen the puppets to avoid paying such a hefty price... Sanchez searched for the nearest entrance to the station, crept up, and snuck in.
...Calling attention to himself had worked in his favor. Inside the mostly unlit station, two officers questioned the disagreeable bastard, Torch and Tunneler standing motionless on a cart behind them. The officers asked what he knew about the crime, why he paid so much for the figures... Sanchez imagined how skeptical the whole station must have been hearing a story about killer puppets, and now they were questioning this idiot for being so competitive with him... "Maybe", he thought hopefully, just maybe they'll put this sucker away for mental help, and give those over to the runner-up...
The man, in all his calm, formal neutrality could not seem to give the police a straight answer. He knew "absolutely nothing" about the crimes, even though he seemed to have joined the auction, like him, for the sole purpose of getting these puppets. He told them it was "none of their business" when they asked why he had paid so much...
Aftera few more questions like these, it became all too obvious to the police that the man was not giving them straight answers... The second slowly backed away with the cart, and the first gave the obligatory phrase of ultimate denial; "We'll send you the dolls in about a week, we have to make sure there's nothing funny going on here...".
"He's back against the wall... I did it", thought Sanchez, "I'll find out where he's taking those and then--"...
...And then the blank man extended one long arm, and fired a long, broad mass of multicolored energy towards the denying officer.
The first thing that happened is that the officer screamed, a scream not of explicit pain, but of fear. The beam consumed him, following him no matter how much he tried to shake it off. Then, then came he pain. The officer clutched his whole body, as if trying to keep himself together. Energy, as it continued to flow from the man's hand now became to flow back to him from the officer's body. then, the pain ceased. All at once the officer was thrown into convulsions, a fullbodied twitch of death, as both energies retreated into the hand of the blank-faced man.
The other officer turned to face the scene, then turned promptly back to run once aware what was going on. Too late. The beam of energy extended and expanded even faster this time around, likewise it killed faster. Leaving only the blank man with the puppets... Just as Sanchez wanted it. Ironically, as oblivious as the police had been to the strange man who killed them with mystical powers, the same man was just as oblivious to his normal, neurotic nemesis, hidden behind a partition with a silenced Baretta.
The blank man, unbeknownst to Sanchez had been trained by near-invulnerable creatures in the black arts. What was, however correctly inferred by Sanchez, was that it didn't matter. Thankfully for Sanchez, the creatures who had trained the blank man to be a devoted enforcer, were now dead themselves, due in no small part to the puppets the two living men in the room now fought over, and were thus unable to retreive the prize themselves. For if they had come themselves, Sanchez would have been confronted by a supercharged monster invulnerable to most of his projectiles, fully able to take his soul before he would have been able to turn to run out the door again. However, due to the man's human heritage, he found himself truly the loser for the first time that day. He barely had time to curse his upstart rival, through a throat with a new, crimson-lined hole in it, before having his lifeless body quickly checked.
Most of Sanchez's worries quickly faded seeing the tattoo on the dead man's hand. A follower of Sutek. Sanchez had read about Sutek whilst studying clues about Toulon. Needless to say he was aware of the vitriol of Sutek's followers against Toulon's work well before he had heard about the auction, though he was rather surprised to see the crumbling cult still on-the-ball. He thanked God for his fortune. Sanchez had faced cults with arcane powers before, but he had never to his knowledge let his organization know he was out to get them. Considering himself very lucky, Sanchez let the corpses lie and picked up the puppets. Putting the two dangerous toys in his case, he reassured himself that he would only have to keep his hatred secret, have to deal with the wicked people around him, for a few more weeks... ---------------------------------------------------------------- any comments, questions, concerns, or otherwise? PM me and I'll see what I can do to help them. This is TO BE CONTINUED.
Re: Richard Sanchez starter « Reply #1 on Jan 1, 2009, 11:31pm »
Sanchez knew his car was bugged, but he knew how to get around it since the beginning. No talking in the car, nothing important could be said in it. Always set your briefcase right in front of where the main lens, and just in case do nothing but drive. Always park far away from where you're really going...
Before making the trek to his sanctuary and lair, Sanchez parked his blue Ford in front of a brothel by the name "The Pretty Woman". He knew the Division would allow any sort of addiction that wasn't detrimental to work; gambling, especially with government salary that would come right back to them, was encouraged, pills that could enhance performance were happily provided to those who chose them, and of course, lust had a great power to stave off soul-growing love.
Sanchez needed neither lust nor love, he knew he had a greater purpose. As The Division was just fine with him taking hours of off-time to give himself pleasure, the employees near the back of "The Pretty Woman" were just fine with a usually bi-weekly bit of "paid break", and no one really cared where Sanchez went, or what he did as he trodded into the brothel, made his route, and crept out one content girl's window.
During the first and last half-hours of this schedule, Sanchez jogged forward with the wind in his face, carrying his allegedly condom-armed briefcase with him to deposit his more out-of-place items far away from "random searches". He usually had only a maddening 50 minutes of deep thought to come up with some quick attempts to beat the system before retracing his steps, cleaning off, and thanking the shiftless resident pimp with a promise of mutual silence.
The day Sanchez won his auction was different. For starters "the rounds" were all several times quicker than usual, after playing calm getting into the place, it took all but 5 minutes to pay the pimp and today's lucky client in advance and light out the window. From there, it took him a bit over 10 minutes to run to the small wooden shack, in which he went through his usual routine of depositing gathered information... Only this time, the process of utilizing this information would be much simpler.
Notes... what he read about the work of Andre Toulon, Neil Gallagher, Gregory Magrew, and Richard Myers could be taken rather straightforward. All the things about reanimating tissue and preserving essence required a simplistic, if arcane, formula, and a bit of magic. With the bodies in hand, spirits comfortable, and fuel sampled and for the most part, memorized, all it would take would be a quickly-cooked plan to make things fall in to place. ...Sanchez had one, one whose ingrediants were already prepared.
Now all he needed was to see if things worked. Of course if they did it would be no surprise, and if they didn't... well, he thought about passing on his work to a friend of his who could take failure better... ----------------------------------- I've got more, but I'm tired right now, and this is the best stopping off point I have...
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of experimenting![[image]](http://img90.imageshack.us/img90/2910/torchc2jk0.png)
with silly puppets. ![[image]](http://www.theneitherworld.com/pm/rpforum/torchcloseup100.gif)