“-- Damnit woman!” Now she chooses to call, of all times, “Why is it that any time I’m actually doing something important you give me this bull sh-- No, actually I’m at work...” He turned to the person he had been speaking to, holding up a finger as if to say one second, “Oh, like you’re a saint! Tell your little boyfriend I say hello -- Yeah, fuck you too.” Hanging up his cell with a roll of his eyes, “My god. Forgive me,” returning, “My beautiful wife.” He turned to examine the scene in front of him, the medical examiner buzzing around while the police tapped off the area, flashing his badge, “Detective Guédé. Can you tell me how you knew the deceased?” Said deceased person was currently in a coroner’s bag, soul nowhere to be found. Shit. It was going to be a long night.
Maddox tilted up his hat to get a look at who was talking to him. The guy didn’t look that suspicious, but Maddox had his fair share of shady job deals to know when to when something sounded too good to be true. But his hunger compelled him to follow along. “Yeah. I’ll work.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Fuck. Now he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from actually working. It was this weird thing where he had to do whatever came out of his mouth, no matter how much he didn’t want to do it. He just hoped this dude wasn’t going to make him do something fucked up. Like kill kittens or whatever. Maddox trailed behind the man a fair distance until they reached the dinner, ready to make a run for it at the next sign of danger. But everything was normal. Sitting down at a booth, he had to stop himself from drooling looking at the menu. “So can I like order anything? Or are you tight on cash? I ain’t tryin to be a bother.”
OK. To be fair. Saturday wasn’t the least shady person in the city to put it lightly. He was definitely no saint. Which was ironic. But he wasn’t a psychopath, he had a good heart. If he didn’t think he could actually put the guy to work doing something useful he wouldn’t have bothered taking him to get a meal. Anyway, Saturday loved cats. He’d dig the grave of the guy that killed kittens.
The waitresses in the diner recognized him, one already moving to sit a coffee down on the table in front of him. A gesture he responded to with a wink, slightly distracted before remember he was here for business, not to flirt. Sigh. “Knock yourself out, kid.” He eyed the man across from him. You didn’t meet many polite people nowadays. Everyone was trying to be the biggest and the best. Egotists, the lot of them. And that was coming from Saturday, who thought of himself very highly (just not enough to care about making an ass of himself). “Just remember, I’m helping you out. You gotta return the favor.” Raising his brow, “Understood?” This kid seemed kosher, Saturday really didn’t want to have to come hunting him down later, “Two questions:” holding up the index finger of his left hand, “One, what’s your name.” Holding up a second finger, “Two, ever work in an office?”
Harper zoned out and stared blankly as the man spoke. Why was this man still speaking to him? He blinked a few times and his gaze wandered away from the man. He started to walk past him before he realized, “No! You’re wasting my time.” Harper looked at his watch and his eyes widened. That lunch deal was going to end in twenty minutes. “I need to get across the street. So move, yeah?”
Saturday considered his options. Food or fun? Food or fun..?
He chose fun.
“Mm.” He crumpled the popcorn bag in his hands, his broad body acting as a blockade, “I didn’t hear a please.” Tossing the wrapper towards a trash can on the corner, a pleased Kobe! leaving his lips when it went in.
“I got hungry!” She explained. Honor always got hungry after difficult battles and troublesome injuries. She guessed that it had to do with her inhuman physiology, but she had never turned her stress point detection to herself to investigate the flaws of her theory. “Ok… I guess you can have them instead of Mr. Acid Man… I wouldn’t want them to go to waste and they don’t taste as good when they aren’t crispy.”
A smile, “Hey, I’m not one to judge.” He held out his arms, “Look at me, if there’s one thing I never get tired of, it’s eating.” He eyed her, “Everything alright, kid?” He sat the bucket aside, “Seems like everyone’s all up in arms lately.” a huff, leaning back, “I don’t get it really. But eh, I’m probably just jaded. Seen it all before. -- Mind if I smoke?” He asked reaching into his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes, “But really, how’ve you been? You and your friends been safe?” he breathed out, making sure the smoke went no where near her.
“No,” Harper said as he looked over to the man. The corners of his lips twitched into an annoyed frown as he eyed the man slowly. Everyone in Ceres Centropolis was definitely annoying. That was the only way that Harper could describe it. “I said move. You’re in my way,” Harper repeated. Though, his attention on this man shifted over to the center of the crowd. “You’re no longer interesting me,” Harper said as he turned completely to face the crowd. “What the fuck is this?” He muttered, trying to get a better glimpse of what was transpiring in the center of the group.
Saturday watched the man, dusting his hands from popcorn crumbs in thought for a moment, “You know what you remind me of? One of those angry little dogs.” He brought his attention to the crowd again, “I feel indifferent about you. --” then waved a hand, “Just people getting worked up about this or that.” but he was feeling generous today, “Need a lift little man?”
When the darkness moved, Jeremiah could feel it and when he wasn’t responsible, he always felt the need to show just how surprised he was. He placed his hands on his cheeks and let out an audible gasp when he saw a guy get whacked by a shadow. “Oh my great grandfather, it’s a ghost! A shadow person! You just got hit by one of them! These woods are haunted!” When he agent turned to look, he fired a quick punch into his face to knock him out and when they were suitably unconscious, Jeremiah opened the van and set them up nicely inside. Pleased with his work, he smiled and shut the door before summoning some dark constructs to help him lift the vehicle. He’d need to walk it back to the beginning of the woods, but while he did this he turned to wave at Saturday. “Thanks! I appreciate the help! Your work was awesome. Isn’t every day that I run into someone who can do the shadow thing!
Sat had to give it to Jerry, his acting skills were through the roof. He watched the agent fall. A laugh, “You should take up acting --” His shadow loomed behind him, then buzzed around Jerry, before attempting to sneak something out of Saturday’s bag, “-- Ey!” Keeping his goods out of reach, scolding the shadow as Jerry worked on dragging the unconscious man away, “I’ll put you away--” Moving towards the vehicle, “Where do I know you from? What’s your name? Jerry, right?” He let his voice trail off, letting the man summon in silence, before placing his hands on his hips at the wave, “Well, aren’t you delightful.” He decided he liked Jerry, especially after the man inflated his ego, “I mean, you got some..” wiggling his fingers, “Shadow stuff goin’ on too. Not many of us around with the less... Colorful capacities.” There were many molds of people with powers, some could talk to sweet woodland animals, some could... mask the city in darkness. One was less favorable than the other. “What are you doing after you take care of that guy? Let’s grab a drink, man.”
Maddox paid the last bit of cash he had to make it to this city. He hated asking people for money, but it was always a good place to start until he could find another side hustle. “Spare change please.” He asked in a low voice, keeping his hat down low to cover his eyes. The looks people sometimes gave him made him feel less than human. “Will also work for food.” He added while holding out the torn up Starbucks cup. With a couple of dollars he could buy 10 mini tacos at 7-Eleven. The tacos were a luxury but fuck it, he made it this far. He deserved a small treat.
Now, Sat wasn’t heartless but he also didn’t go around giving money to just anybody. And especially not for nothing in return. He watched the people in front of him pass by the kid without a glance, groaning to himself as he felt his heart strings tug. “Ugh. Fout tonè. Fine.” Glancing up at the sky as if glaring at Bondye in defense, in case the creator would strike him down if he ignored the beggar, “Fine.” As he approached he stopped, shoving his hand into his pocket before his brows raised, “...Hold on, hold on. You said you’ll work?” Well that changes things. He thought for a moment, snapping his fingers at a thought. “Ok. You hungry? There’s a diner a block down. We’ll talk more there.” and then, “Well come on. Hustle, time is money. Money is food.”
“You ever look at something you own and you’re like, ‘I need an upgrade’?” Elvira asked and sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest. She eyed her bike and said, “I need an upgrade.”
“Yeahhh...” He sipped at his Big Gulp, “I haven’t been on a bike in,” Oh, about 150 years, “A long time. So I’m no expert but.” He eyed the bike, taking his time to examine it, moving around the motorcycle with a keen eye, “It’s seen better days, hasn’t it? Why don’t you give it a face lift? I’m sure you could find someone to pimp your ride.” Sat actually knew a little bit about bike repair, one of his many past jobs that bored him to tears. Detective work was much more interesting than mechanic work. Crouching he examined the shock, “You could save it, most of it’s not in too bad shape. Shouldn’t cost you as much as a new bike. If it does whoever you got working on it is robbing you.” Still. He had to say. He liked motorcycles. Of course he did.
“Yeah, so as I was saying… flat tires happen often around these parts because this place is probably haunted. I mean I believe in it and you know what they say about believing in something, makes it all the more real.” Jeremiah walked around the trail and the SHOT vehicle. The truth was he had used his abilities to puncture holes in the tires to keep them from getting near Altimira and now he was just trying to talk their ear off until someone else could subtly get the to turn around. “I heard these woods host a lot of cult activity… you know to Grandfather Satan… Or to the Primordial Darkness. I wouldn’t want to pray to that other thing though…” He chuckled. “I mean, don’t believe in evil, but these woods just aren’t right.”
Sat knew very little about this dude other than he’s seen him around. But he also wasn’t dumb, tires don’t turn into swiss cheese just cuz. Honestly, he felt indifferent about the whole SHOT thing. It was more of an annoyance than anything. But he was picking up on what Jeremiah was throwing down and didn’t have anything better to do so. From His lazy position, leaning against a thick tree trunk not all that far away where he had been collecting some supplies he raised his fingers. It was easy enough to whack the man on the back of his head with Saturday’s shadow. And then he waited. He did his part. What’s his name, J... Jerry?Jerry could take over from here.
There were a lot of people in the streets today. More than there should have been in Harper’s honest opinion. It must have been the day off that caused this but whatever the reason was, they were in the way. “Get out of the fucking way, you damned filler characters,” Harper shouted as he pushed past the crowd. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with them, especially when there was a deal at his favorite restaurant - 2lbs of shrimp for $10 at the steam cooked seafood restaurant was a steal of a deal. However, as he pushed past the people, he realized why they were all gathered. S.H.O.T. was having another one of their demonstration of powers. How fucking annoying. “Move it,” Harper shouted as he kept walking past the people. He shoved someone a little too hard and said, “You’re in the way. Move it, you extra.”
Saturday really just came out to these sort of demonstrations because he liked watching everything unfold. He was one of those people that says they don’t like drama but then is out there with their phone camera, you know. Funnily enough, Sat was heading to that same restaurant as this kid, but had gotten distracted by the scene having the audacity to pop into the closest corner store and buy a snack, as if at the cinema. He really didn’t hear the man over the noise of the demonstration (and his crunching of popcorn) until what felt like he had been elbowed by a stuffed animal. He looked down,
“Oh... Hey little guy. Are you looking for your Mom?”
“I got two too many KFC buckets and I don’t know what to do with them. I’m already a bucket in… Maybe I should give them to Upchuck Ulysses? I bet with his acid spit, he’d be able to eat these no problem.”
“I don’t know what you mean you don’t know what to do with them? Donate some to me that’s what. Forget about acid spit, he’s not here.” He searched for mashed potatoes, “What I wanna know is what you’re doin’ with all this KFC.”
SATURDAY GUÉDÉ, who strongly resembles WINSTON DUKE, is more commonly known as BARON SAMEDI. They are a 300+/UNKNOWN year old LOA and they have been in the city for 35 YEARS. SAMEDI has been known to have MASTERED THE BLACK ARTS. While they are not SAMEDI, they are working their day job as PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR in CENTROPOLIS DETECTIVE AGENCY. They are known to be + CHARISMATIC & + CHAOTIC GOOD and - BRASH & - LOUD.
(tw: death)
Buz here again with this asshole, he’s a little more *cough* fun *cough* than Clém. That said he’s a LOT (tm) but he means well.
(tl;dr and power at bottom)
Who doesn’t love Saturday?
Sat is the Loa of the dead and the head of his household. He has a lot of siblings (like too many in his opinion)
He’s married but shhhhh their relationship is mainly for show (it’s basically an open relationship, they cheat on each other often and have this sort of love/hate thing going on)
He’s charming and he knows it.
Once you get past his ego he’s really just a chill guy that wants to have a good time. Everything is so heavy with humans.
He likes to drink and smoke a cigar and relax. Like if he could stay in a hammock for eternity he would.
Becoming a detective here was really just something to do. He’s had many occupations in the past. He specializes in homicide cases in which being able to talk to the dead comes in handy (if they don’t give him a hard time that is).
He doesn’t know how long he’s going to stay in the city, but he feels this odd sort of endearment for it.
He loves to laugh, and make other people laugh. Most often at the worst times.
He really really tries to stay impartial. He doesn’t like politics. And will remain a neutral party until someone twists his arm.
In a nutshell.. Sat is just a fun-loving guy, who has a good heart under his extra. And he is a LOT (tm) but he’s lovable and will protect the people he cares about. Do what you want to him, he really couldn’t care less, but mess with his loved ones? Then we have a problem.
BLACK ARTS
Sat is basically the guy that knows when someone’s about to go into the ground and makes sure they stay there. So his Vodou practice centers a lot around the dead/necromancy those sorts of things.
He has some healing/life magick that he really doesn’t use much because he doesn’t like to get involved in people’s business but ultimately if you’re really hurt he’d probably try to help after complaining about it.
His particular branch of the Black Arts is Haitian Vodou magick. This includes: sympathetic magic, puppet mastery (he doesn’t use this often unless like he’s goofing around and makes a corpse wave at whoever he’s with. Listen he spent a lot of time at the crossroads between realms, he has a dark sense of humor), conjuring, and shadow magic amongst other things.
If you do something for him, he’ll probably do something for you like give you a blessing or something. On the other hand if you annoy him he’ll probably curse you. But it’d be something stupid like you have Toto’s Africa stuck in your head for a while.
Possible Connections!
His wife
Younger siblings
Drinking buddies
Someone who wants him to bless or curse themselves or someone else (Sat does nothing for free, mind.)
