| Raul Joseph Salazar |
 |
| Portrayed By: | Kuno Becker |
| Status: | Active |
| Age: | 31 |
| Occupation: | Watcher |
| Family: | Mel Salazar |
| Significant Other(s): | F*ck That. |
| Freak Factor: | Halfsie |
Raul Joseph Salazar is an unlikely watcher who happens to moonlight as a TA at UNLV and when there's not much moonlight, steal from the rich and give to the poor. Well, mostly to himself, but sometimes to the unfortunate, anyhow.
Box of Chocolates
Potty Training
Man, screw this shit. There’s no way I’m going to record an account of my life to date. How am I supposed to recall all the important details? Or more specifically, why would I put this anywhere where someone could listen to it?
You want this, Harry? This is what it’s going to take to lift the curse? Then you can have it.
But you better destroy it. Permanently. Magically. After you use it for your f**king supposed cure-all. Did you hear that? That was supposed, Harry. Not suppos-ed with that Shakespearean pronunciation that you like.
This better work.
Let’s see. Oh right, birth. Or maybe before that. Is it Gladwell who’s getting all these account execs thinking that you’ve got to know four hundred years of someone’s heritage before you get to know them? I think that’s the guy. Mark or Matthew Gladwell. Some bullshit like that. That’s just what I think about it.
All you need to know about my heritage is what the census bureau knows and what any one knows anything worth knowing knows. I’m a Lurker and I’m Latino. What? Oh yeah. My dad emigrated from Mexico in his youth. My great grand parents on my maternal side are from Cuba.
Long story short, they met. They got busy. Here I am.
They’re dead by the way. They married late. Genes. You know how that works.
Spent the early years in Indonesia. Huh? No. I didn’t pick up…what was it…Bahasa Indonesia. Don’t give me that look. Just because you wag that tongue in more than one doesn’t mean I can’t do more than you. I did know a few words. You know…how to order chocolate milk and shit like that. Same goes for Spanish. Dad was in oil, naturally. Engineering. Mom? She was the real bread earner.
So yeah, we were flush, kinda. Oh yeah. Mom. She did do what we lurkers tend to do.
Oh, f**k. Gladwell may have something.
I guess it’s the family profession, huh? Oh you better shut the f**k up – if I was a gigolo I’d make more than your ass ever could.
She did a little of everything, within that field. Sort of what I’m doing now – I’ll get to that later.
It was mostly contract theft, though.
Dad took one look at my grades and laughed. I wasn’t an idiot – I just didn’t do too hot at math. I should add that I did well in everything else. What? I did, okay!
So mom decided to start teaching me – young. When your life expectancy is a little less than average, you do that. Plus, both mom and dad were responsible for my schooling and it wasn’t too much trouble to tack ‘B&E 1301’ on top of that. Dad figured Mel would follow him more. She was one of those rare cases – the lurker gene wasn’t dominant, so she could go out, even if it gave her stomach aches, it didn’t do much else. Yeah, I know. She didn’t receive the benefits, though.
I definitely got those, and mom drove me to practice and as I learned, I found I actually loved what she taught. We moved back to the States – to that drab shithole in Texas – Houston.
As the years passed, dad bequeathed some of his vast occult knowledge to me, and they hired a Gri’ah tutor to make sure I could swing a sword exceptionally well.
Out of the Cocoon
Fast forward to ’90. I was in the process of finishing my degree. Oh, come on! Fine, I was in the process of getting a degree forged – but I had the know, okay! I got tutored.
Anyways. That was the first death. Mom died. Bet you didn’t see that coming did you? She was older.
We were sad - she was only my mom, but we were expecting it so there was no devastation. You know, life goes on. Who knows, we may see her again.
But yeah, she died. What that also meant was that I got all her old contacts – put on her mantle at that relatively tender age. It’s about when I started playing in the big leagues and let me tell you, Cleveland had them.
You couldn’t throw a dildo without hitting a cult or some power crazed gangster who wanted to run a ritual that needed item A from someone who wasn’t interested in selling or whose price was higher than mine. So bam! I started raking in the cash. Turns out, I would need it. When dad passed away, I didn’t get a cent. It all went to Mel, who, by this point, was working on her f**king PhD. She’s an actual genius, okay? Not like you.
I knew why I didn’t get any of it. They figured my trade would keep me floating. It did, of course. Still does, as you know full well.
No I am not f**king with you! They let me become a watcher. It started with a girl, of course. Bridgette. She was a firecracker, without the red hair. I don’t know maybe, they have a firecracker gene. Anyway, whatever it was, she /had/ it. So I find out what she does. She doesn’t really find out what I do. I flash my false credentials, drop a few demon-y names here and there and after an interview that lasted weeks too long, I got the job.
Naw, man, that’s just the thing. I didn’t lose the job. It’s not ex, yo! I’m still a Watcher!
You’re a f**king sugar coated piece of shit some times. On and on about how you went to this school and that school. Some of us can’t go out in the sunlight, okay? Oh right, back to Cleveland. Yeah, there was a Hellmouth. That ugly thing is probably still somewhere there, anyhow.
So this is what happened. I’d get a contract, right, and I’d carry it out. Top notch work, mostly, like my mother taught me plus a few new tricks that old dogs would never learn. The nights were full of the good herb, when I wasn’t on a job – so it was all good.
Purpose?
And then, and this is something that always gets me, man, -then I came across the slaves. This was some serious Frederick Douglass bullshit in the f**king twentiethcentury, man. Demons, trafficking other demons – mostly Lister and, of course, humans. Like I said, this was Celia-bad.
I couldn’t just walk away from that. I mean who could, right? What the f..k, I was working for – furthering the interests of someone who did this, who took away basic rights. You know I don’t give a f..k about the law. But this? This is a primordial right, man. Freedom. It’s not like property or some shit. These were people I’m talking about here. You see something like that? What, I know it’s f..king cliché, but it’s also f!!king true! It does change you.
So I didn’t – walk away from it, that is.
I fought for them. For the first time, I fought for something other than myself. Okay, so there wasn’t /too/ much fighting. I just /liberated/ some of the head slaver’s capital and gave it to the slaves that I liberated.
And with that, I kind of got on a kick. Month to month. Rob from the rich and incredibly evil, give to the less fortunate. Single mothers. Innocent half-Bratchen orphans. You know what it’s like…do you?
Don’t get me wrong man, I still took care of myself. I still /take/ care of myself, but let’s get this straight – for the record – if you can have your cake and eat it and maybe take the bully’s cake and give it to that poor little kid in the corner, why wouldn’t you? So that’s what I did. I stole the fat shit’s cake and had some of it and gave the rest away.
I had to be slick, you understand. To keep in business – so I didn’t do it to everyone I came across. Just the real bad ones. If you’re killing kittens for kebabs, I really don’t give a shit. If Oden Tal are selling themselves out for a good payday, then what the f..k, it’s a free world, right?
It was after I had gotten into this type of thing, after I carried it on for a couple years that I met Bridgette. She was documenting the rise of yet another cult – though this was a demon cult that looked like it might actually grow dominant and actually try and tap into the Hellmouth. Turns out, she was with the Watchers. I didn’t join them then, you see. I just became a consultant. A go-to guy. A friend of a friend. You, more than anyone, should know how that works, what with Picasso and all.
Hitting a Wall
Work continued as per normal, till Killeen. She’s a demon of some sort. Until this day, I’m not quite sure what type exactly. She might be one of those spell freaks. Who knows. She’s not a big girl, Killeen, but the b**ch had her fingers everywhere. It wasn’t slavery, this time. She typically bought and traded in souls. Which is all well and good, unless you’ve found a way to work around an honest-to-the-powers-that-be blood contract. That’s some serious level shit. Basically, what you sign isn’t what’s on the paper, and it’d need a skilled practitioner of the arts to see through that one. No, Harry, you couldn’t do it if your life depended on it. What’s that? Shut the hell up, already.
So anyway, I tried to bring her down, or at least her Cleveland operation. Uh what? No, I don’t think she’s international. Just…national – or at least, she has a presence here and there. Where it’s important. Like Ohio. It is with a hellmouth, you little shit!
The thing is, I got caught. Not physically, you understand. I’m way too good for that – but the fact is, I was getting sloppy. Overconfident. You know what they say about complacency and pride and all that, right?
Her lead employee in Cleveland was one of the few who figured out that someone was behind all the recent clusterf**ks. The ones that meant movers and shakers losing their clout. Their wealth – and the kids on the streets that were getting fed. So naturally, they set a trap, just like we would, actually. A simple one. Text book. Bait. They put victims out, false ones, and idiot that I was, I played right into it.
The next few months were hazy. I had to break things off with Bridgette. Though, uh, that probably had more to do with me sleeping with her friend, Elaine. More on that later. It’s why I’m recording this whole thing, anyway.
It was a f**king chase, a hunt, a game and for the first time, I wasn’t the one writing all the rules. It took years…I mean, September eleventh came along before I manage to drop out of sight. Unfortunately, it wasn’t out of mind.
I moved to Vegas. Why? You mean besides the strip clubs? Are you serious?
Oh, okay. Rumor had it that Killeen has her nest set up here, that f**king hag. So I figure, primary school logic, if they expect you to run – you hit them where they don’t expect it. Or in this case, hide where you don’t expect it.
Just Another Sinner
So Vegas was awesome. Is awesome, I mean it was everything I expected it to be. It’s also when I figured out this little…problem I had. Turns out, Bridgette was p-i-s-s-e-d. Pissed enough to pay for a curse. And now you’re supposed to make my limp problem go away. You know how surprised I was when I couldn’t look at porn? When that six thousand dollar lap dance didn’t work? When that hot bartender just couldn’t get me off? It was f..king shocking, okay, that’s how shocking. Or no f..king shocking. I mean come ON! Why did she have to do this to me?
When word got out, I got a new nick name, too. Thrice. As in, thrice cursed – even though those bangers don’t know shit. That’s the only curse. The gold thing is up for grabs, really, the experts can’t make up their minds. The sunlight is –genetic-, okay? But it sort of stuck. So I was Thrice, the guy to go to when you needed that special sumthin’ sumthin’ that your best buddy and rival Thokjenalas has and you want. Still Thrice. Until you MAKE THIS GO AWAY!
…Where were we. Oh, right. Vegas. Killeen, evil demoness and sorceress with fingers everywhere. It was only a matter of time before she found out, of course. Thrice is Raul. Raul, the guy who almost took her Cleveland operation down. I think she’s playing a game, now. Sending in muscle every now and then. The odd poisoning attempt. It was lucky as hot shit from heaven that you were there the last time – I’ll admit. Whatever she’s doing…I don’t give a f**k right now. I need to get laid. What? Oh yeah.
Last year swung around, after you and I met back then, but you already know that. What, I have to still talk about it? Yeah. What’s to say. Lurker walks into a bar, and finds a magical consultant. Two become fast friends. Yeah, you’re a friend. A comrade. You’ve proven useful thus far, right, and after that last job – you owe me as much as I owe you.
Anyways. That’s around when the Council went to hell, probably literally. Naturally, they looked up old contacts and the offer ended up on my desk. It’s all about security, you see. In numbers. So I underwent the thorough investigation. Promised I wouldn’t pull any job on someone who wasn’t in the supe community and wasn’t all evil. But you know how it is. Sometimes those human motherf..kers, those hotel owners, those unscrupulous business men, sometimes they need to be brought down a notch. You know what this is? This is applied socialism, b…hes! I’m helping myself to my social security fund. Don’t look at me like that. You’re an accomplice!
So yeah. I’m a Watcher, now. How’s that? Probably going to be assigned to a slayer. I hope she’s over 21. She f**king better be.
WHAT? I didn’t need to go through all that? Then WHAT the F**K was that for?
You sadistic bastard.
People I Know
| Who | How | What |
| Laurel Yeung | Slayer | Hit that! |
| Lily Bones | Slayer | Little angry slayer. Apparently annoyed with Laurel. Hopefully, there'll be a cat fight and I'll be there. With a camera. |
| Nicole Hathaway | Slayer-charge | Seems kinda…kick-ass! We should get along fine. |
| Blaine | Acquaintance | Seems like a cool dude. Lives with Nicole. Can take care of himself. |
| Watcher-Eater | A Bad | With a nice ass. |
| Erik | Would-Be End | Of Raul. Laurel's boyfriend. Could you have guessed? |
| Crispin | Some Dude | Was gonna play pool with him. |
| That One Chick | Laurel's Student | Bleep bloop, man. Bleep bloop. |
| That One Dude | Laurel's Student | Teenage kid? |
Logs
Backlog: Sightseeing - Laurel and Raul exchanged words back in Rome.
Backlog: One Night - Stand! Back in Rome, again.
WTF Do You Think You're Doing!? - Laurel introduces Nicole and Blaine to her new watcher - Raul, who manages to piss Laurel off enough for her to chase them out of the house.
Stockholm Syndrome? - Raul gets kidnapped and gets on surprisingly well with his would-be captor.
A Nice Little Slayer Commune - The Watcher brings word of the Watcher-Eater to Lily, a slayer.
A Pool Hall Blitz - Bar brawl turned nasty.
I'll Pass on You - Raul's already questionable morals are questioned further by Lily.
Justification - Erik wants to slay Raul. Laurel stays his hand but wants him out of the council, at least.
