Botulism
Really Corrupt
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- Jun 19, 2023
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RAQUEL ALVAREZ DURAN BAHAMONDE
| Photo taken in La Guajira, Colombia around 1996. | ||
| -BASIC INFORMATION- NAME: Raquel Alvarez Duran Bahamonde ALIASES: Ximena Rodriguez, Ramona Franco, Katalunya Heroica CID: #03318 GENDER: Female AGE: 46 DATE OF BIRTH: 09/22/1974 NATIONALITY: Colombian PLACE OF BIRTH: Cali, Colombia CURRENT LOCATION: Industrial Sector of City 24 EDUCATION: Diploma, College dropout OCCUPATION: Tier 0 Industrial Worker, Former MCP Associate/Political Conscript -PHYSICAL INFORMATION- PHYSICAL STATE: Broadly Healthy, Physically Fit HEIGHT: 5'7 (170cm) WEIGHT: 138 Pounds (62 KG) EYES: Dark Green HAIR: Black ETHNICITY: Hispanic/White BODY TYPE: Mesomorphic NOTABLE FEATURES: Other features |
| -PSYCHOLOGICAL INFORMATION- MENTAL STATE: Mostly Healthy, long history of mental instability MENTAL ILLNESS: Bipolar Disorder/ASPD KEY PERSONAL TRAITS: Outgoing, Confident, Egomaniacal, Passionate, Deceitful INTERESTS: Poetry, Craftsmanship (DIY), Deceiving/Bullshitting, LIKES: Gambling, Complaining and Critiquing, Fancy clothes, Hunting, Geography and History (Latin-American History especially), Rainy Weather, Cumbia Music DISLIKES: 'Boring' People, Genuine Collaborators, 'Weak' People, Cold Weather, Politics and Reason Zealots, People who 'Care too much', Dogs, drugs. KNOWN LANGUAGES: Spanish and English -FAMILY- MOTHER: Isabella Bahamonde Torres / Died 3/04/2004 FATHER: Raul Alvarez Acosta / Died 4/26/2004 SIBLINGS: 7 Siblings, of which Raquel is the youngest. HUSBAND: Rafael Ximenez Duran, Died 10/29/2009 CHILDREN: Raul Ximenez Bahamonde, Born 12/04/1994. Still alive. Rafaela Ximenez Bahamonde, Born 7/29/1995. Died 8/21/2000 Maria 'Frida' Ximenez Bahamonde, Born 8/24/1997. Still alive. |
| -BACKSTORY- Raquel Alvarez Duran Bahamonde was born on a rainy September day in a poor, clean neighborhood in Cali, Colombia. Since September in Colombia possesses whole weeks where it just rains constantly, she associates rain with her own source of happiness, after all, every birthday in Colombia she celebrated with rain pouring outside. Her father grew up the son of a fisherman in Barranquilla before moving to the city to become middle-management at a textile factory, and her mother, uniquely had an upper-class background. Her father was a Colonel in the Colombian Army, and as Raquel's grandfather, would often regale her with stories of having met Presidents and his fighting and leading of soldiers during 'La Violencia'. A story that particularly affected her was how he almost got executed along with his whole family as a young boy during the Civil War in 1902, and how the actions of a single enemy Captain caused his family to be spared. Her grandfathers' storytelling and the imagery of this honorable lone Captain riding on a horse to stop said execution is engraved in her memory; After all, history is the first thing that comes to mind when she remembers her homeland. Her mother ran away from an arranged marriage to marry her father, but by the time Raquel was born, being the youngest of seven other siblings, the rift had mostly been healed. Her earliest memories are a mix of learning and sadness; she fondly remembers her aged grandfather taking her on long deer-hunting trips out in the highlands, and having to huddle in his greatcoat due to the cold snow. She remembers her father taking her to his factory after-school to show her how the machines worked, her fondness of beards coming from an employee by the name of Selim, a brawny Turkish immigrant who would teach her nearly everything she knows about crafting things. Her memories were also poor around this time: She distinctively recalls a childhood friend of hers, a boy named Pedro, strapped into his bed by belts and foaming at the mouth. He'd been bit by a stray dog and due to medical ignorance, had contracted rabies; a little Raquel, the priest, and all the kids on the street watched as the foaming ceased and his breathing became slower and slower...Hearing his mothers cries and the priest reciting last rites, she realized she witnessed death for the first time. With tears too in her eyes, she would never trust dogs again. Being the youngest child in the family, Raquel had very little supervision; she had bits of great guidance from family members that would offer it, but for the most part, she was left to her own devices in discovering how the world worked. She'd been in places, done things and had experiences she shouldn't've, but decades later, she'd come to rebrand it all as a life lesson; Everyone gets hit sometime or another, and as far as she was concerned, the fights she lost and times she got taken advantage of taught her valuable skills in dealing with the world. Her foremost concern being to grab every opportunity in her reach by the throat and to not let go until she had obtained victory, with all this in mind, a life of nostalgia for a past she'd never experienced and few meaningful relationships to be found left her a depressive, self-destructive young woman who ran with a street gang, sold, grew and did drugs, and tried to live life on the edge. For many years, Raquel had been what many would've called a 'poser'. Someone who wanted to be bad, but didn't have anything to show for it or back it up with. She went to study Engineering at the University of Valle, but had been kicked out after a campus security guard found drugs on her person. Her parents were disappointed, but provided her with no aid or even harsh words and shame, due to their preoccupation with her seven older siblings. Distraught and feeling outcast, she ramped up her nefarious activities, and became a full-time drug dealer in the streets of Cali. Her friends set up shop in a poor district in the slums of the city, and throughout several months in late 92 and early 93, she would be pulling in hundreds of US dollars in drug deals, a massive amount to her and her friends at the time. Her small-time drug deals ended as quickly as they began. An older man lay dead on the floor of her slum-apartment, with dozens of stab wounds covering the front of his body. In her hand, a bloody bowie knife. It'd been a thrill until the room became silent, and once it did, her blood ran cold and she felt sick to her stomach. Raquel's mind was always base, however, and she didn't feel sick due to the violent display, but about what the consequences of her actions held in store for her. They cut up the body, hid every piece, cleaned up the room and washed the floorboards for days, but still...Someone snitched. Just once, Raquel was spared death. This was the closest she'd ever been to dying; she was tortured, knives and guns were held to her head, her family was threatened, the masked man told her he'd murder every relative she had just so she could watch and live in regret of the deed she had done. The man she killed was a small-time distributor for the Cali Cartel, a death such as this didn't warrant the death of the culprit, especially as it wasn't motivated by the desires of a rival cartel, but once the sicarios had rooted this out, Raquel's choices were made simple: Work for us, or die a horrible death. She chose the former, and for the next several years she would become one of the thousands of nameless enforcers in the ranks of the Cali Cartel. The idea can paint a glamorous picture of her experiences, diving into Amazon waterfalls to chase after rivals who possessed million dollar shipments...This was far from the truth. Her job was rather mundane ninety-nine percent of the time with only a miniscule bit of intense violence sprinkled in. Raquel had many boyfriends in her lifetime, most of whom were evil men that she left or left her after a few months at most of dating. Her relationships often began with intense, unparalleled passion for one another before spiraling out into violence and abuse after the pettiest of disagreements, often committed by both her and him toward each other, taking two to tango. One man who always stuck around was her eventual husband, however, Rafael. Rafael was not a violent man, though he was capable of such. He was a businessman and only incidentally dealt with drugs, all of which attracted Raquel like none other; Rafael put up with her breaking up with him once or twice, and she put up with him breaking up too, they were both in their early twenties, and being the mid-nineties, neither one of them had truly matured to the point of marriage yet. Raquel still had two of his children, but had become an irresponsible, neglectful mother, constantly doing mixes of drugs, lashing out and staying on her job constantly to avoid dealing with anyone she even remotely cared about. It was out of shame, pure shame at what she'd become, and only an intervention shocked her back into a semi-normal life. Without it, she probably would've been long gone before the Seven Hour War even happened. Raquel believed she didn't fear anything in life; that was proven false, however, when she looked through the peephole of her apartment door...Her parents, Rafael, and his parents were waiting. Hiding all of the drug paraphernalia in her flat, she sat through what was probably the longest few hours of her life, a proper intervention that for the first time in her life, truly scared her straight, not for the sake of herself, but for her kids that she had left in the care of others. She'd been reminded that she owed her parents for her life, and for the next few years, her work went on the backburner of her life's worries. Formally marrying Rafael and having a third child with him, the two had a troubled but optimistic marriage. The death of her second child, Rafaela in a falling accident around the year 2000 broke her heart even more, nearly relapsing. However, her two remaining children, the occasional job and the love of her husband made her life worth living. She made monthly family visits to the house she grew up in, wanting her two remaining children to receive the same guidance that she received by her own grandparents. Raquel prayed every night that they would not commit the many sins that she did. With all this in mind, her fire had, for a time, been subdued. Fast-forward two decades, and all of this feels as if it were a thousand years ago for Raquel and her memory. Her parents and Husband are dead, and her children must be in their early twenties by now, and worst of all? She failed. Sometimes she tells herself the world failed her by allowing the Combine to invade, but she failed to keep her children from growing up without a mother, ironically giving them her same fate. To this day, she believes that she could've done something, greased some palms, made some connections...To keep her children from being separated from her, placed in various labor camps and never seeing their own mother past childhood. The only evidence Raquel has of their survival is the continuing reminders of 'family cohesion', either believing or lying to herself that she would be killed off if they had no more close family members to coerce her with. What remains of Raquel now is a mix of two very different beings, a violent, juvenile young woman who killed and stole like it was second nature to her, and a loving, caring mother who after everything, only wants the best for those she loves, with occasional bouts of depression, mania and carelessness seeping in. Growing older each year, Raquel has no idea what the dying world holds in store for her, but at the very least, she hopes her death will be something others will remember for years to come. |
| -RELATIONSHIPS- LOVES ADMIRES RESPECTS BEST FRIEND FRIEND ACQUAINTANCE DISTRUSTS DISLIKES HATES DECEASED
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