felix valdez. / district 9 / fin
Dec 29, 2019 19:21:37 GMT -5
Post by sidney on Dec 29, 2019 19:21:37 GMT -5
felix valdez / twenty-six / the sparrow's debt collector
Any man who’s ever been down on their luck or at the end of their rope knows the name Felix Valdez. He is the hammer that falls upon those who think it wise to try and cheat the God of Debt—of Death, to those who dare to run. The streets of Nine quake with each step of his more-than-you-make-in-a-year loafers. And he isn't afraid to use them to crush your windpipe. He's unapologetic in his hunger, in his need to take and take and take, and to offer nothing in return, for selfishness knows no other purpose but to consume. And that is essentially what Felix does. Nothing survives the wake, nor the storm that follows his merciless entrance into a poor man’s life. With his teeth bared and sharpened to a fine point, he’ll drive them right into your flesh without ever giving it a second thought because to him, you aren’t worth more than your weight in gold, and by the time he’s done with you, Felix will have already turned your annihilated bones into glittering diamonds atop his gilded crown.
THREE PILLARS OF SUCCESS
1. AVARICE — Who among us can resist the long legs stemming from the green dress of greed? The color of money, his favorite. Felix considers himself a collector of many things, beautiful people, smuggled designer clothes from the capitol, crisp dollar bills. If he could, he’d build his entire empire out of the stuff, out of all the money he’s made by simply being the smartest and most dangerous man in the room. What he is never lacking in is hunger; he’s rotten with it. Always wanting and needing more— power, more money, more glory. He’s new money in a corner of Nine whose wealth goes back generations, legacies just beyond every other wrought iron gate and gilded doorstep, and he a self-made man. The sheer audacity of him will be jarring against the refined tastes and likes of those born and bred here, but Felix has always been a man who never apologizes, and he isn’t about to start anytime soon. They will make room for him whether they like it or not.
Greed? Check.
2. SUBTERFUGE — Does a lie not sound a hell of a lot like the truth coming from a man with enough conviction? If there is one thing Felix knows how to do it is will falsity into truth. An easy thing to master when you already know how to turn copper into gold, but much harder to slide down the gullet of a superstitious man unless you coax it down. Deceit is a six letter word, etched onto the folds of his heart, and each time blood pumps through, it transforms into something more palpable to the masses. He knows he’s not everyone’s cup of tea; his arrogance alone is enough to garner the fiercest of fists to his jaw, but what he lacks in favorability, he makes up for in promises. In sickly sweet lies on the tip of his golden dagger tongue, dipped in sugar so it doesn’t hurt so much when it slits your throat.
Liar? Check.
3. TREACHERY — Who can you trust when everything you touch turns to gold? There are very few people he considers honest and trustworthy. Leon is one of few, but the rest of the Sparrows may as well be strangers to him, all of whom need to prove themselves worthy of the titles they wear with such pride. Heir. Soldier. Captain. Emissary—the title he himself wears, but not with pride. Disdain. Hatred and disgust for its unimportance. Boss sounds more like it. Underboss sounds better but still not quite right, and regardless, there’s quite a few standing in his way. All of whom he trusts as far as he can throw them. Felix has never considered himself a paranoid man, always knowing he’s covered his tracks and left nothing to chance. He’s a planner, and if there is no outcome that benefits him, he doesn’t move forward. He came to this side of the district with a clear vision in sight, but his arrival was less than what he’d hoped for, and there’s much work to do. It takes a village, they say, and while he’s recruited some, (Tara, his huntress. Gemma, his monstress.), he knows he will need more to flock to his aide. Though it seems he fits right into this den of thieves, this underbelly of Nine, filled with just as many liars and twice as many cheats. He’ll make his alliances, shakes as many hands that extend his way, broker any deals that can get him ahead, but what he won’t do is think himself safe in this place. He won’t be safe until every door is torn from its frame and the palace is tossed.
Betrayal? Check.
———
THREE PILLARS OF SUCCESS
1. AVARICE — Who among us can resist the long legs stemming from the green dress of greed? The color of money, his favorite. Felix considers himself a collector of many things, beautiful people, smuggled designer clothes from the capitol, crisp dollar bills. If he could, he’d build his entire empire out of the stuff, out of all the money he’s made by simply being the smartest and most dangerous man in the room. What he is never lacking in is hunger; he’s rotten with it. Always wanting and needing more— power, more money, more glory. He’s new money in a corner of Nine whose wealth goes back generations, legacies just beyond every other wrought iron gate and gilded doorstep, and he a self-made man. The sheer audacity of him will be jarring against the refined tastes and likes of those born and bred here, but Felix has always been a man who never apologizes, and he isn’t about to start anytime soon. They will make room for him whether they like it or not.
Greed? Check.
2. SUBTERFUGE — Does a lie not sound a hell of a lot like the truth coming from a man with enough conviction? If there is one thing Felix knows how to do it is will falsity into truth. An easy thing to master when you already know how to turn copper into gold, but much harder to slide down the gullet of a superstitious man unless you coax it down. Deceit is a six letter word, etched onto the folds of his heart, and each time blood pumps through, it transforms into something more palpable to the masses. He knows he’s not everyone’s cup of tea; his arrogance alone is enough to garner the fiercest of fists to his jaw, but what he lacks in favorability, he makes up for in promises. In sickly sweet lies on the tip of his golden dagger tongue, dipped in sugar so it doesn’t hurt so much when it slits your throat.
Liar? Check.
3. TREACHERY — Who can you trust when everything you touch turns to gold? There are very few people he considers honest and trustworthy. Leon is one of few, but the rest of the Sparrows may as well be strangers to him, all of whom need to prove themselves worthy of the titles they wear with such pride. Heir. Soldier. Captain. Emissary—the title he himself wears, but not with pride. Disdain. Hatred and disgust for its unimportance. Boss sounds more like it. Underboss sounds better but still not quite right, and regardless, there’s quite a few standing in his way. All of whom he trusts as far as he can throw them. Felix has never considered himself a paranoid man, always knowing he’s covered his tracks and left nothing to chance. He’s a planner, and if there is no outcome that benefits him, he doesn’t move forward. He came to this side of the district with a clear vision in sight, but his arrival was less than what he’d hoped for, and there’s much work to do. It takes a village, they say, and while he’s recruited some, (Tara, his huntress. Gemma, his monstress.), he knows he will need more to flock to his aide. Though it seems he fits right into this den of thieves, this underbelly of Nine, filled with just as many liars and twice as many cheats. He’ll make his alliances, shakes as many hands that extend his way, broker any deals that can get him ahead, but what he won’t do is think himself safe in this place. He won’t be safe until every door is torn from its frame and the palace is tossed.
Betrayal? Check.
