Announcements: Initiative: Promoting Forum Roleplay » Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Platonic numbers » No complaints (a little bit of rappin) » Any multi-player roleplay videogamers here? » Needing a woman's perspective on a concept » Gluts and Gaps » Universal Basic Income » Impending Pursuit Q&A » Eudaimonia » Loot! » Natural Kinds » I have a funny idea » Life in the 21st century. » Song of the Runes » Plato’s Beard » Clues » Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation » Presuppositionalism »

Players Wanted: Roleplay Return for 1 x 1 » Players wanted for a science fiction adventure. » Players needed for Fantasy Romance reboot » One(1) male & Two(2) Female Roles OPEN <3 » Talmora: Kingdom of magic » Looking For A New Partner » Hellboy characters » 18+ Writing Partner [Fantasy, Romance, Etc.] » 18+, Multi-Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life ٩( ´・ш・)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution »

1
followers
unfollow

Cassandra Hall

"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."

0 · 546 views · located in Earth

a character in “Facility”, originally authored by Paintpoint, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Cassandra Hall
"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."








Mᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.


Image

Nicknames
Andy

Face Claim
Anna Jagodzinska

Age
Twenty

Height
Five foot six inches

Powers

Strengths
  • Merging ~ Ability to temporarily merge two or more beings into a single being, which results in a completely new and stronger being. Object being merged to must be living.
  • Reactive adaptation ~ Ability to develop a resistance or immunity to whatever they were injured by or exposed to. Is temporary for only an hour after first infliction of wound.
  • Self-detonation and reformation ~ Ability to explode one's body mass and reform.


Weaknesses
  • Depersonalization ~ Persistent or recurrent experiences of feeling detached from, and as if one is an outside observer of, one’s mental processes or body.
  • Water ~ Cassandra is drained of energy when around water, whether it be when she is being rained on, swimming, or just standing next to a large amount of it. Water puts her in a foul mood and dampens her spirits faster than anything else, not to mention she cant use her powers when in contact.






Bᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪsɢᴜɪsᴇ.



Personality

Cassandra experiences depersonalization which can make her feel divorced from her own personal physicality by sensing body sensations, feelings, emotions and behaviors as not belonging to herself. Andy has very high anxiety levels, which can intensify these perceptions even further. This makes her irritable, reclusive, and incoherent. However, this isn't Andy 24/7, she is often very sarcastic, snarky, and otherwise joyful about herself. She loves her powers more than anything in the world and enjoys spending time around others.

Likes Dislikes
Cats Unattractive people
Playing Piano Authority figures
Combining herself with different objects Bells/wind chimes
Talking Water
Planning ahead Sense of no reality




Fears

! Losing herself completely and not being able to feel anything
! Never seeing the sun again
! Drowning





Rᴇᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ.



History

From a young age, Andy had been spoiled rotten by her nurse mother and historian father. They had given her anything and everything she had ever wanted, dance classes, gymnastics, kick-boxing, you name it Andy could've had it. However, at the age of seven, her parents had blessed her with the greatest gift ever: little Ariel. The years following her sisters birth had been some of the best, the girl having spoiled the baby rotten. The two were extremely close even though they had a large age difference. It'd be common to find the girls sitting in a dark closet giggling softly about boys or horses or whatever else they thought up. The two had seemed inseparable, but things had changed when Ariel was fourteen and she was eighteen, they had been giggling and screaming about some boy from school when her little sister had hugged her. The physical contact had triggered Andy's power of self-detonation, destroying not only her life, but her family all in one messy explosion. Within an hour she was picked up by the facility and put in a cell. That had been two years ago, now she struggles with constantly trying to escape from the facility.


Photo Gallery


Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image

So begins...

Cassandra Hall's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Persephone Nyx Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: SETTING Character Portrait: Matthew "Stretch" Wilson Character Portrait: Zilla Levina
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cells are arranged in long rows consisting of one hundred a line. The first two numbers in an ID is the row number. Odds are for males, evens for females. Row 11 faces row 12, row 13 faces row 14, et cetera. The last two numbers are the cell's placement in that row. For example, cells 1111 and 1211 are directly across from one another. Unless a Powered requires it for the safety of everyone in the Facility, cells are not soundproof. They can be communicated across unless preventative measures are taken. All cells are adaptive. Visibility is a privilege. All cells are able to be moved by a large crane hidden in the shadows over everyone's heads, almost like an elaborate warehouse. The facility is invariably painted bright white and is very very well lit under the level of the lights. Again, this can change depending on the needs of an inmate's keeping.

Meals are given twice daily, sedation by various means whenever the previous dose is half an hour from running out. The most common method is a gas vent in the ceiling. Some Powered require tranq shots or some other method. Unless otherwise required, each cell has a simple cot, sink, shower spigot, and powdered disinfectant dispersal system. Emergency methods are in place for every inmate.

Any polymers used are clear, tintable, and able to be manipulated in a variety of ways. They are insanely resilient, nearly impossible for even a Powered to go through. Any other materials are treated to be more than strong enough to handle what it will receive from any side.

Matthew Wilson's cell is constructed of polymers. It's kept colder than most, but not unbearably so. Emergency measure: A sudden drop in temperature to below freezing and water vapour dispersal.

Roald Hartford's cell is constructed of polymers. It's just large enough to keep any large forms he may shift into contained, if uncomfortably so and to the damage of all interior features. Emergency measure: gas grenades of varying strengths depending on the size of his form.

Wayland Smith has been assigned ID number 1337. His cell is constructed of non-flammable, conductive polymers. Below the floor is a matrix which is able to send up electricity. Emergency measure: Activate said matrix and keep active until cell is able to be moved away.

Persephone Nyx has been assigned ID number 1441. Her cell is constructed of Gypsum boards with Rockwood insulation. Only one side is constructed of polymers, and upon any sort of heating up the cell will begin to take on water. All items inside are flame retardant, scrubs included. A thin film of water is kept on the floor. Emergency measure: Flood cell.

Cassandra Hall has been assigned ID number 1434. Her cell is constructed of polymers and has a thin film of water on the floor. Emergency measure: One shot gas grenade, flood cell.

Zilla Levina has been assigned ID number 2218. Her cell is constructed of insulation coated by conductive polymers, through which a pulsing current runs through. Emergency measure: Tazer, gas grenade.

Welcome to the Facility.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Matthew "Stretch" Wilson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Waking up kind of hurt.
Okay, waking up really hurt...
"God damn, they hit my head hard when they threw me in here, huh?"
As Matt opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the chill in the cell. His recently acquired transformational abilities wouldn't help him at all here, then, he mused silently as he took an account of his surroundings. Walls seem to be made out of some sort of... Polymer, or something. That was prototype technology, though, even for Biomed majors... Why would they use it to hold people captive? He stood shakily, regaining feeling in his body. "Alright, first order of business, figure out why the hell these walls are made from polymer," he muttered, not quite trusting his voice yet. He sauntered over to the wall, running his fingers along it. "Okay, so this seems like it's a bit... Full. No way for me to slip through any cracks in it. That'll be a problem." He could feel the sedative they'd forcefully injected into his system forcing his movements into the sluggish territory. "There's another problem... Can't stretch, can't get out. Th' hell am I supposed to make friends now, huh?" At the silence, he rolled his eyes and raised his voice. "Can anyone hear me? C'mon, I know you're out there!" For the love of God, please, someone be out there...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Persephone Nyx Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Matthew "Stretch" Wilson Character Portrait: Zilla Levina
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cassandra Hall
"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."






Image
"Walls, floor, ceiling. Walls, floor, Ceiling. Walls, floor, wall, ceiling, wall, floor." Andy Hall sat in the corner of her cell, number 1434, bare feet shuffling back and forth in the small film of water along the floor. A shiver went through her body, hands tugging through her hair as she moved towards the entrance of the cell, standing to her full height. For two years it had been this same thing every morning, "Walls, floor, ceiling. Walls, floor, ceiling." Her head snapped up as a new voice rung in her ears, eyes flicking around. Most were starting to wake, the sleep cycle was over and it was stimulated to feel like morning, though Andy could never tell.

"Walls, floor, ceiling...Voice. Voice. New voice..." There was a small pause as her dilated eyes blinked back to normal. "Hello?" Andy called out hesitantly. She started twitching again, pupils going wide as she continued her muttering. "Walls, floor, ceiling. Walls, floor, Ceiling. Walls, floor, wall, ceiling, wall, floor." Her stomach growled in hunger and she could feel the fluidity of her muscles starting to return as her sleep tranquilizers started to wear off. This feeling of returned control made her feel wonderfully back in control, though it wouldn't be long until a personnel came and gave her another sedative.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Matthew "Stretch" Wilson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cassandra Hall
"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."






Image
Andy's head perked up as she heard yelling from down the hall, pressing her hand against the polymer wall, banging on it slightly as she scratched at the creases, looking around wildly to try and pin point the voices she had heard. First one and then another, both unfamiliar. Actually, she had heard one before, but it was fairly new, not like her voice. It had been here for 730 days, 24 months, 2 full years. "He-help! Someone...Help! Get me out of here! Walls! Floor! Ceiling! Walls! Floor! Ceiling!" Andy screamed. The yelling continued, voices swimming around her, scents, emotions, bodies. [color=#006891"Stop! Stop! Stop!"[/color] She covered her ears with her hands as she yelled at the people talking. The cold water was seeping from the floor and into her bones, making her shake uncontrollably. Another bad side effect of the medication wearing off, she could feel everything, nothing was numbed or blanked away. The world was now a vivid and frightening place to Andy. The sound of a slot opening made her shriek, jumping back with cat like reflexes to land on the balls of her feet on the mattress of her bed. A man dressed in white set a tray down on the floor through the slot, closing it once it was on the watery ground. "Eat up." The man chuckled, continuing on with a cart of other trays with food and medication. Crawling forward on hands and feet she approached the tray, bottom lip quivering as she sat down on the wet floor, putting the plate on her lap as she used shaky fingers to pick up the pills and place them on her tongue, swallowing painfully.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Matthew "Stretch" Wilson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

He woke early again today. Calm amber colored eyes letting off a soft glow in the blackness, woke up before the lights again he noted. Getting lazily out of his cot, his joints creaking with a metallic grind and working his way through his routine. Bathing, if it could be called that, consist of rubbing the body with disinfecting powder, and rinsing it off. He checked himself in the reflective surface of the window, something he got for 'good behavior”. They didn't change my face while I slept at least. He thought with a wry grin, rubbing at his ash colored hair.

There were no guards in the cell blocks themselves as far as he knew. Really, there was no need. Each and every cell was tailor made to keep the prisoner within contained. It had been disheartening for him when he'd first been caged, what was it, he wondered eyeing the small scratches on the frame of his cot, and counting. Fourteen hundred and seventy five days ago? Damn, time flies. Now however it didn't bother him. Nothing in this world is perfect, there would be a flaw, a mistake someday, and he'd be ready and waiting to exploit it.

Some yelling farther off into one of the other cell blocks shocked him from his thoughts. New prisoner he supposed, sounds like about five or six halls away, in the nineteen hundreds. He tried to feel sympathy, but honestly they were all in this together. No one person had a monopoly on misery, he should know. He'd seen people come and go, but the routine stayed the same, keep your head down, and do as you're told, and you'll be alright.

“Hello.” He heard, right across the hall, a young womens voice. He groaned, don't be a screamer please. “They're too far away to hear you.” He muttered quietly, waiting for the announcement he knew to be coming soon, one he could recite by memory he'd heard it so many times.

More screaming, a different voice this time, and pounding on the walls, thankfully in the same cell block as the first voice, and not in the one he had to live in. Call him cold if you like, but his motto was be calm, be courteous, and maybe they wouldn't dissect you because you're creating too much trouble.

As he had these thoughts, another noise interrupted his thought process. Wheels, and footsteps. “Chow time.” He spoke aloud with a vicious grin, this place was so predictable, everything happened exactly the same way everyday.

He watched the man dressed in white scrubs pushing a cart laden with food and sedatives. He recognized him, same guy that fed them in the morning everyday, average looking and in decent shape, he was as nondescript as they came. He stopped at cell fourteen, thirty four, and slid the food in, eliciting a shriek from the cells occupant.

He made his way methodically down the rest of the hall, same as everyday, before finally reaching his. Wayland watched him through the window as he slid his card to unlock the feed slot, and slid his tray through onto the little table within.

“Much obliged.” He said politely with a nod. Wayland was ready to eat and return to waiting, but the voice of the man stopped him. “Pills first.” Unsurprising, he thought, as he picked up the two pills and shoved them in his mouth, and promptly swallowed them without a fuss. Feeling them turn to ash as soon as they reached his stomach. Sedatives didn't really work on him, his ah, unique physiology burning out foreign substances before they could take effect, but he humored them anyway, acting like they had some minor affect. The man seemed satisfied by him swaying in place slightly, and “woozily” heading to his cot to eat.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked the back of the man as he dug into his decidedly bland meal, all but the metal shavings in the meat turning to ash as he swallowed it, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but a grin on his face. He was ignored of course, they weren't here to socialize.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Persephone Nyx Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: SETTING Character Portrait: Zilla Levina
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Persephone stared at her wall, wishing flames would appear. She couldn't stand it. Her mother had always told her she was special, and that she had a will to live. But now, being 'special' put her in a cell. She looked around her room and began muttering curses under her breath. When she had woken up, she aced all over. Now, she was just mad. Her food had arrived, but she has not touchen it. She had taken her sedative, but nothing else. She was careful of the floor.

Arrogance. She thought to herself when she had seen the water.

They knew her strengths, weaknesses.... it killed her. She wanted her fiancé, her mom, her sister, and her kindergarten class.

Goodness, they have a new teacher now. She thought. She kicked the bed and sat down again, trying her best to set herself on fire.

Sadly, she could not.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cassandra Hall
"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."






Image
Andy had scooped runny mashed potatoes onto a spoon, opening her mouth to take a bite when she heard his voice. She dropped her spoon back onto her plate, holding the tray in a white knuckled grip as she turned her head to look out the clear polymer wall of her cell. With eyes narrowed she glared across the hall at the man, if he could be called that, who spoke with the feeder. As far as Andy knew he had been here longer, much longer. He had been here when she had first arrived, the first person she had spoke to. Andy muttered under her breath and picked her spoon back up, cleaning the utensil of the mashed potatoes. It was like this everyday, listening to him try and make conversation with the people who had them locked up, lips puckered 24/7 to kiss ass at any opportunity. Andy couldn't stand him. Finishing her potatoes and gravy covered meat she set the tray down, sliding it across the slick floor to bang against the wall. Crawling off the bed she followed the dry path it had let, though the floor was quickly slicked with water once more. Standing at the door she began muttering again, over and over the same thing. "Walls, floor, ceiling. Walls, floor, ceiling." Her body was in one place and mind in another, staring down to watch the way her head turned in different directions, fingers twitching against the glass, and lips moving as she spoke in rhythm of what her body's eyes were seeing. "Walls, floor, ceiling...Brimstone. Brimstone. Brimstone. Tray. Walls, floor, ceiling." Being in one 6 by 6 cell for two years with no change, no ability to stretch, run, or do anything except pace or sit did things to people. Insane things to people.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Persephone Nyx Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Two bangs drew his attention. His hall mates, he could only see the source of one though, the other he thought may have originated in cell fourteen, forty one. Cassandra he believed her name was. He was pretty sure she didn't like him much, didn't like the way he talked to the feeders, to the Doctors, didn't understand why he did it. Maybe they'd escape someday, maybe they'd get confronted by one of these people, and maybe, just maybe, that person hesitates. Hesitates long enough for him to rip out their throat. The thought made him want to grin, but he didn't. He didn't move, just kept eating, quickly finishing his meal and placing it on the table to be picked up later.

She watched him sometimes too. He could tell, stay in isolation long enough, and you could tell when people were watching. He didn't mind. He watched her too, he watched everyone, and everything. He sighed, smoke billowing from his mouth as he did.

The cell was just big enough for him to lay down and have his feet and head touch both sides. Not big enough to do much of anything, but he did do some light exercise. Crunches, push up, squats, not much else to do. They were essentially animals to these people. He hated them, despised them, but he never let on. He let them become complacent, and someday he'd make them remember why they had to keep a live circuit active in his floor.

“Somethings gotta give someday. Nothing is perfect.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cassandra Hall
"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."






Image
“Something's gotta give someday. Nothing is perfect.” Brimstone's voice echoed in Andy's ears, drawing the woman back into her body, head tilting to the side as her eyes focused on the curly haired man. He was right, even if she didn't want to admit it, all humans made mistakes and one day someone here would slip up. Sitting up, balancing on her feet, she looked to the left. Standing she looked to the right and then curled a hand into a fist, knocking on the glass of her cell with her knuckles. "What are we going to do when it gives?" Andy whispered across the hall. If anybody knew every little detail about this place, it was Brimstone, not to mention he could burn through just about everything with a simple blink of his eyes. Andy had a similar ability to break down walls, though it was much more...messier. If Brimstone was able to get out of his cell would he help her? The rest? Or would he leave them all behind and try to escape by himself? Her lip quivered at the though and she tapped the glass with her fingers, running her other hand through her straw colored hair. What if she were to get out? Would she help the others? It was something she had never asked herself before, it made her chew her lip and flick her eyes around the cell blocks. These people, even if behind panes of polymer had grown to be her family and friends. She would do anything possible to free them from this hell hole and hoped they'd do the same for her.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

He stopped his activities when a knock brought his attention back to her cell. She was standing there, lucid as he'd ever seen her and looking right at him. A question in her eyes, and on her lips.

“What are we gonna do when it gives?” Excellent question, he thought. Making eye contact with her, leveling the same intense gaze on her eyes as he had used to study this place for years, now studying her, weighing her.

She ran a hand through her hair as he studied her, her lip quivering, finger tapping the glass, and he knew, knew that he could never leave anyone behind if he got free. It just wasn't in him to abandon these other people to their fate. They were all family now, bonded by agony, and shared suffering. That at least he was sure of. So he answered her question truthfully, voice a raspy whisper, barely carrying to her cell. Whisp of smoke escaping his lips as he talked.

“They want to treat us like animals,” He paused, grinning savagely, confidently, eyes shining with the absolute faith that they would all someday be free, even if he had to tear this place down, stone by stone. “then we'll show them what happens when a whipped dog slips it's chain.” He never once broke eye contact, wanting to see her reaction to his words.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: SETTING
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Loudspeaker announcement: All inmates are reminded that cell walls are impervious to attempted escape. Continued acting up will result in punishment.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cassandra Hall
"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."






Image
"If they want to treat us like animals," Brimstone paused, Andy seeing the Cheshire Cat grin that split his face. The woman smiled back, eyes widening at the way his soft and scratchy voice carried from his cell to hers, inhaling sharply. Her crazed eyes flicked back and forth excitedly as she tapped her finger more forcefully against the glass, keeping in time with the click of the good cart's wheels as it was pushed down the cell block hall. She stopped suddenly, hand pressing against the glass, fingers spread as she looked between them at Brimstone.

The voice boomed overhead, dark and threatening. All inmates are reminded that cell walls are impervious to attempted escape. Continued acting up will be punished. Andy shivered at the sound but didn't break eye contact with Brimstone as smoke whispered out between his lips and nostrils. Ignoring the warning over the loud speaker she laughed slowly as he spoke, finishing his previous sentence. "then we'll show them what's happens when a whipped dog slips it's chain." Andy loved the way his voice empowered her, gave her hope, and made her want to escape even more than before. They would escape, it would take planning, observation, and absolute perfection. If one mistake was made...everybody involved could be killed or worse... Andy shook her head, standing on her tiptoes, fingers curling against the glass, trying to scratch it. "Just give the word and you'll have my support."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King Character Portrait: SETTING
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cassandra Hall's clear front wall is now at half tint and a light shock has been administered through the water on the ground. The gas vent hisses with a 20% increase in sedatives.

Loudspeaker: 1434, you were given warning not to attack walls. Your next disobedient action will result in two skipped meals, a day on the table, and a week in isolation.

Valen King has severely betrayed the kindness of the Facility with full awareness of his actions.

The following description is graphic.


With a whine of metal on metal and an angry hum of electricity, movement can barely be detected by those with their ceilings untinted in the shadows above. The crane. Two staff members abandon their carts to help maneuver the gleaming monster over cell #1926. One fits a portable gas mask over his nose and mouth, as all staff have one handy for cases like this. Before the crane descends, the cell fills with sedatives heavy enough to put down a Clydesdale. Best to be sure. The masked man is then boosted to the cell roof with the help of the other. Smoking floodlights are carefully walked around and checked for damage. None. The lighting matrix is moved to the man waiting below, the gas, disinfectant, and water line disconnected, and the open square frame of the crane moved into place. With that, he straps onto the metal monstrosity, gives the okay, and rises with the entire cell and the occupant unconscious inside.

The other member returns to distributing food as the display moves out of sight.

Once the cell has been moved far further into the gigantic Facility where no other inmates or staff reside, the crane lowers it into an area set for instances like this. The masked worker disconnects and descends a ladder rising from the ground. As with nearly every area of the Facility, the area is heavily aided by shining machinery. The man checks his mask one final time, sets a dial to the proper cell size and desired replacement for the floor, and sets it to work. The bottom hisses out, complete with all fixtures and inmate, and drops easily onto a conveyor belt. The entire setup is drenched in disinfectant, including the unconscious and bloodied form of Valen. The red runs away and his wounds bubble with the solution. Couldn't have any sort of infection setting in.

With that, the bulky worker sets about shaving the man's head, then hefts the inmate over his coated shoulder and moves to the new floor. This one has only one fixture in the center: a long, sterile table made of the same clear polymers, along with wicked shackles of the same material placed strategically to hold forehead, wrists, chest, hips, and ankles. A floodlight lies beneath, silent and waiting, close enough to the top that burns are sure to occur within minutes. To the side is a bracket which will soon be outfitted with a container of experimental gas.

The worker drops 1926 unceremoniously onto the table and sets about stripping him of his scrubs. Moments later, all that remains is a pair of black briefs. Shackles are put in place about fair skin. The inmate now lies on his back, face forced to the sky, with no protection or way to defend himself from what's to come.

A silver canister is loaded into the bracket. A thick hose leads to a mask which is clasped too tightly over 1926's nose and mouth by straps which lead behind the head, under the jaw, and over and behind his shaved scalp over the table restraints there. There is no way this mask will come off, but for good measures, it is locked in place both under the jaw and behind the head. It is oriented in such a way that his teeth are locked together to a painful amount of pressure, tongue trapped inside.

With this done, the worker opens the valve and lets the experimental happy gas begin to filter in, currently at a dosage which would keep at the very least a smile on their tormented patient's face. As thin as he was, it was a delicate balance. The dosage would eventually be upped, yes, but they had to be sure not to give him too much. Otherwise he may laugh to death. That would be a shame. Then he wouldn't feel how severe his disobedience was.

A second, far smaller container of water is hooked next to the more important gas and spliced into the same hose and diffuser within the mask. This setup will only allow him a drink if he is able to catch the randomly timed scant mist before it rolls off his lips. With no ability to use his tongue, this is sure to be a challenge. One he will have no choice but to accept in his soon-to-be surroundings.

Satisfied with his setup, the guard exits the floor as a new set of four walls comes down and the floodlight blares on. Surrounding the ceiling of the clear cube are cameras, all aimed down at the table. One wall holds a door, unlike the other cells, guarded by a keycard reader. The floor snaps into place of the already levitating room, and the crane moves away.

Minutes later, just before the sedatives will wear off, 1926 lies supine under a sun far larger, far brighter, and far hotter than anywhere else in the world in his own miniature greenhouse. Heat and light stream in from all angles, including the bright white cement pad the cell rests on. There are no opaque walls to protect him now, no way to see to the sides far enough to gain information on their location. Just the impossibly bright sun, the driest air, and humiliation.

Faces of the staff peer in on break. Some laugh and take bets on if he'll live or not, how long he'll be forced to stay conscious. Some stand silently with smug smirks, content with this after the trouble they've been given.

Within five minutes, his skin will burn to the point of discomfort. Five more and pain. His tender scalp is exposed to harsh rays from all sides, his eyes unshielded from intense light. Blindness very well may results. Burns will be severe. By the time an hour passes, blisters are highly likely. Another hour and they may just pop themselves. All the while, Valen will smile, torn between the drug induced glee and the natural terror and need to survive engendered by the burning ball of gas directly above and the mocking faces all around.

You should have known better than to bite the hand that feeds you.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

“Good to know,” He whispered. Seeing her smile, when before she was on the edge of sanity made his heart soar, and he smiled back. A genuine smile not the one he gave the feeders, or the doctors, but the one he hadn't used in a long time. Her hope, steeled his resolve, and bolstered his will.

He stepped up to the clear wall. Laying his forehead flat against its surface. Eyes still fixed on the woman across from him, he allowed his ashen breath to fog against the clear polymer surface. “If we get out of here, I'll do everything in my power to help you and everyone else get back to wherever you belong.”

He held eye contact for a heartbeat longer before returning to his cot to sit, digging a single metallic talon into his cot frame to mark the passing of another day. Off in the distance he could hear something. Yelling, war cries, the sound of something hitting the side of a cell, much harder than was intelligent if you liked your insides un-examined.

He hoped the poor bastard escaped. If not, they wouldn't get another shot. Not if they managed to damage their cell at all. They'd most likely be transferred to an upgraded one, that was twice as secure, and be punished within an inch of their life. Moments later a scream of pure agony started, followed seconds later by another, before both were cut off.

“That's what I thought.” He said, holding his head in his hands, his elbows resting against his knees. A soft hiss of smoke escaping his mouth as the weight of possibly having just heard the death of two inmates settled onto his shoulders. He didn't cry, couldn't, he'd seen and heard it all before. Only the smart survived this place for very long. He hardened his heart and looked up at his hall mate again a sad look in his eyes, and tried to give her a reassuring smile. Now seeing the tint on her cell darkening slightly.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cassandra Hall
"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."






Image
1434, you were given warning not to attack walls. Your next disobedient action will result in two skipped meals, a day on the table, and a week in isolation. Cassandra covered her ears as the loud speaker spoke her number, head pounding at the thought of isolation. The walls of her cell tinted, darkening the box she was trapped within, making it harder to see out of the glass. Above there was a hiss, causing her to look up and scream as she inhaled the noxious air, tears rolling down her face. "No! No! No! Stop! My name is Cassandra! My name is Cassandra!" Andy screamed at the top of her lungs. Her name wasn't 1434! "My name is Cassandra!" The woman cried, sinking to her knees as she leaned against the wall, the sedative gases numbing her ability to stand or move her arms without a lot of effort. She didn't have the mental strength to fight the drugs, she hadn't been that strong since her first week here. Some would say she had been broken, most would agree, but as her eyes went to the corners she looked to Brimstone the one person she could sympathize with, the one person she had put all of her will and trust in...Even if she couldn't stand him, he was an anchor. "Brimstone?" Andy whispered once she had calmed down, voice weak. "Don't let them hurt me...I don't want to die here." A tear rolled down her cheek before her head rolled to the side, the sedatives making her sleepy enough to cause a blackout.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

He shot to his feet the minute she'd begun screaming. Core temperature skyrocketing to the hottest he could ever remember it being, he crossed from his cot to the clear polymer wall separating him from the hall way in three powerful strides, but a quick jolt from the floor made him stop before he'd slammed into the wall. He caught a look at himself in the reflection, smoke and ash heaving from his mouth with each breath, eyes practically glowing in their sockets, and a red glow coming from his throat. It was undoubtedly his history of good behavior, spotless behavior that kept the techs watching from just lighting him up like a Christmas tree where he stood.

“Cassandra! Calm down, Cassandra listen to me, concentrate! You're going to be all right.” He tried to get through to her, but she didn't even seem to notice his voice, as she collapsed to the floor, for one second her eyes locked onto him. “Brimstone?” She said voice weak, freezing where he stood, he listened with rapt attention.

“Don't let them hurt me... I don't want to die here.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, the sight hurt him more than it had any right to, almost making him physically ill, before her head rolled to the side, and she slumped to the floor.

“She's not dead.” He breathed. You know this. Calm the fuck down Wayland it's just the sedatives, just the sedatives. She'll be fine. “Keep your head on.” He breathed, every breath having less smoke in it than the last, until finally he was calm again.

“I won't let anyone hurt you.” He sat on his cot after that watching her unconscious form, thoughts a mess of worry and rage, desperately hanging on to the thin edges of his sanity through shear will power tempered by years of practice.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Zilla Levina
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Zilla moved onto her cot after the pain subsided somewhat, her body still aching as she pulled herself up and curled into a tight ball. She barely registered the announcements only listening to the numbers and glad when her number wasn't called. She tried to relax and take her mind of all that was happening, trying to think of somewhere happy, anything happy to ease her fears.

She listened to the commotion happening around her hearing more screams. One sounded as though it was a woman, she sounded scared as she shouted out her name "Cassandra." Though the woman's scream did not help calm her the name echoed on her head. She clung to the woman's determination to be known by her own name not a number, it wasn't fair that they had lost so much as to not even be allowed their own names. She thought to herself muttering softly "My names Zilly, I'm not just a number, I'm Zilly."

This small glimmer of hope that reminded her that she had a life outside the walls of her cell, something to stay sane for and protect from her darkness, was quickly shattered again. This time it was a scream of pure agony, followed by another then another. These screams brought a fresh wave of fear, making her panic, letting the darkness creep back towards the surface again.

Scared of losing herself and scared of the pain she knew she needed to calm down and relax, unable to calm herself she knew she didn't have much choice on what to do. She started to bang against the wall of her cell, not wanting to break it just look like she was trying to damage it. As she continued she heard the soft hiss as sedatives were pumped into her room, smiling weakly she let them take hold. She brought her fist away from the wall, the sedatives soothing the pain and numbing her mind, letting her relax as her darkness shrank away again. She only prayed she would not be punished for attempting to damage her cell, for punishment here was the only thing she feared more than the darkness now.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cassandra Hall
"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."






Image
"I won't let anyone hurt you. Hurt you...Hurt you.”Cassandra's mind went fuzzy, world going dark, as Brimstone's voice echoed in her head. She was startled from this comatose state by a loud bang, jolting awake with a small gasp. Looking around she tried to identify where the sound had come from, placing her sweaty palms on the polymer wall, breathing fogging on the glass as she began to hyperventilate, feeling a sudden sense of doom come over her. Cassandra backed up from the door of the cell, pressing herself against the back wall, crying as she did. Andy could hear footsteps clicking in unison down the hall, matching her drumming heartbeat. This one, 1434. A man said, two of them stopping at the front of her cell with clipboards and pens. Cassandra shook her head, eyes wide, jumping as she felt the familiar shudder of the crane latching on to her cell. "No! No! I'm sorry I wont do it again! I'm sorry!" The woman screamed, banging on the polymer as she was lifted up and away from her usual resting spot, gas flooding her container with sedatives. Cassandra wasn't going to go so easy, wrapping her arms around her body, hugging her knees to her chest as she started to shake violently. Catalysts had been set off, igniting a chain reaction, body temperature rising at incredible speeds until her mass could not contain the energy trapped inside. BOOM The air shuddered as the woman detonated, cell walls covered in a thick plasma of everything left over, though the cell was still sealed and impermeable. They couldn't put her on the table as a pile of mush, though her restoration process would slowly put her back together within a few hours or so, that's when the real punishment would begin.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: SETTING
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

The sound of pneumatic clamps locking on the side of a cell was what woke him. Senses coming on line in a surge of adrenalin as he noted that, no, it was not his cell being prepared for movement.

“What?” He muttered, hearing Cassandra crying, but not registering why, the question on his lips. Before stopping, hearing the sound of footsteps coming up the hall, orderlies. Where are you going? He thought, watching the two men in white coats closely, eyes widening in surprise when they stopped in front of cell 1434, Cassandra's cell.

“This one 1434.” One of the men said, clipboard in hard, checking it going down the list, this one, this one, this one. Like we weren't even people. Like we didn't have names, families, jobs, children, LIVES, that we had been living. He could hear the crane whirring, preparing to move the cell.

'I won't let anyone hurt you.'

His words from earlier tasted of bile in his throat, they had been said with sincerity, with the belief that he could actually prevent them from hurting her, or punishing her if they wanted. He could hear Cassandra crying, begging for them not to take her, pleading, apologizing.

“Damn it.” He grit out through clenched teeth, realizing he'd moved without realizing, that he was already standing, already against the polymer pane separating him from them, forehead pressed against the glass, nails scratching along the surface of the wall making a screeching noise as the steel talons tried for purchase against the polymer. Smoke and superheated air pouring from his mouth with every breath, and in this lighting his eyes glowed with an unholy amber light. He knew he couldn't force his way out, but maybe...

“Take me instead!” He'd yelled it before even registering his own words, slamming his forehead into the wall, he could hear the mechanical hiss above him signifying the activation of his sedatives, could taste them on every breath. This time he didn't feign weakness, didn't play the game that had become almost second nature. He stood strong repeating his words from before even as a loud 'Boom' issued forth from Cassandra's cell.

“Take me instead!” This time he yelled it to the monitors in his roof, getting a jolt from the floor for his trouble. He growled low in his throat, a noise not so much like an animal, as it was similar to the roar of a diesel engine coming to life. The two men in the hall were now looking at him like he was crazy, fear clear in their eyes, and in their body language.

Maybe he was crazy, he knew what they would do to him if they did let him take her place, but he'd promised. Had given that women his word, so he'd begged.

“Please, she wasn't even supposed to be taken. She'd only gotten a warning before, take me, do whatever you want with me, just leave her alone, make an example of me I don't care,” He stopped there to stare into the camera again. “I'll come quietly, I'll walk right up to the table and let you strap me down no struggle, I won't make a noise. So please, take me instead.”

Time seemed to stop for a second in his mind. Like the world was holding it's breath just for him, and then the whirring of the crane started back up. He drew breath to begin screaming anew, when the familiar clank of hydraulic locks engaging drew his eyes to Cassandra's cell, sitting back where it belonged. Another set disengaging moments later, his cell was being prepped to move, there might have been an announcement over the speakers, but he didn't hear it, couldn't acknowledge it. He was happy, god he was happy that he would be tortured. By his own request no less. He wanted to laugh.

Raising his eyes to the monitor a familiar smile on his face he replied the same way he always did to the feeder. “Much obliged.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Persephone Nyx Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Thomas Mullen Character Portrait: Wayland "Brimstone" Smith Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King Character Portrait: SETTING Character Portrait: Matthew "Stretch" Wilson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Valen King's torment is about to worsen. With the higher dose holding, the cameras click on to show the red, cracked skin of Valen in the sun. The image shows only due to shaded lenses. Between the intense sunlight and floodlight beneath (to ensure no shadow), it's somewhat difficult to see, but clear enough. The angle shown is one of his hips up, a focus in one corner of the screen being the masked and shaved head of the inmate. His wrists are shackled far above his head on the slim table, exposing tender sides, shivering from the giggles he's wracked with on occasion from between clenched teeth. For the first time in several hours of torment, a spritz of water is put into the mask, just so the others can see him struggle for it. The staff laugh and jeer from the sides, but their faces and voices don't carry to the cameras. They're centered on the maddening chuckles of the inmate. This plays in every cell, the audio over the loudspeakers.

A man comes into the room, midnight hair resembling his before it was shaved, wearing a surgical mask and one glove covered in slim tassels. He stands over the inmate for a moment before barely upping the dosage of happy gas. He then sets to work. The tassels on the glove are gently skimmed over Valen's sides, forcing his traumatized skin to ripple with the spasms of muscles underneath. At first, it's not much, but after so much pain with lack of touch, the tickles quickly increase in severity. They flicker over cracks in his flesh, spreading the sensation while he has no chance to defend himself from it. His desperate squirms are for naught except to cause the splits to set about bleeding and discharging pus in various areas over his body. The areas around the shackles are hit particularly hard, where he may have hope to press the tickles away (quickly crushed by the true lack of movement he's allowed). He has no choice but to writhe as the glove trails inch by maddening inch from hip to underarm.

All the while, the happy gas courses through his system. Chuckles before spread to insane laughter, cutting off oxygen and furthering his need to thrash about. He bleeds harder. He's defenseless. His sides, belly, inner legs, the bottoms of his feet are all tickled without mercy. Halfway through, he receives another spritz of blessed water. It will be impossible to catch with his distraction. His lips will be unable to close around it before it evaporates. A shame, seeing as how he just lost a load of the precious fluid onto the table. The scientist glances at the inmate's soaked through briefs and directs a camera to show the spreading puddle running down his shivering legs. He laughs something about a "filthy beast, unable to control his own bladder and happy to piss on himself" before continuing. Oxygen becomes a luxury. One he can't afford. It suddenly becomes very apparent how slim his chances are of survival for the next few minutes.

The laughter increases in its maddening severity as the inmate desperately bucks against his bonds. He can hardly move, and all it manages to do is cause him far further damage. Blood runs freely about his bonds, trickling down his sides and joints, about the mask on his face and the straps cutting into his traumatised skin. His scalp is hardly distinguishable as such from the burns streaking down it, same as his face. Tears and discharge mix with blood as Valen's scarred lips begin to pale under the sunburn beginning to blacken them. He's suffocating. The laughter is now far between, though his body still shows the signs of it. The brief moments he can laugh in are choked through with mirthful pleads for mercy. They're indistinguishable through his tightened jaw and the choking guffaws.

He fights harder, gripped with natural panic as he realises he's dying. The harder he struggles for air, the more of the gas he sucks in. Soon he makes no sound at all, though his lips are peeled back in a fierce grin. Dying, but overjoyed on top of terror. That sort of conflict would tear apart anyone's mind. Everything is tensed, bleeding, and raw. No more air is entering his system. The scientist notices the silence under the tears of amusement from the staff. Many are doubled over or patting others on the back. The inmate's skin twitches and quivers, overstimulated, and now without the oxygen needed. Hell, it needs more than usual with the excruciating torment it's been subjected to. With a hiss of irritation, he lowers the dose to where it was before. Were it not for the locks he would have cracked open the mask for a split second. Instead, he improvises. Taking off the glove, he gingerly soaks it through with the inmate's urine, walks around the table and presses it to Valen's face. It's still warm, and the acid only causes further bleeding, but after a few slaps to the eyes and scalp with it, breath begins to return. Disappointed that he can't logically continue, the man leaves. The cameras continue to roll, focused on the three liquids running down the inmate's face and his insane smile. One minute later, they click off.

Let this serve as a warning: Do not bite the hand that feeds you. 1926 is less than one day into its punishment. It has earned three. If it dies, it's its own fault for disobeying. We only want the best for you, but we will not hesitate to bring order to this environment. That being said...

Thomas Mullen's cell returns to normal light as the wailing fades away. He is given a small cup of extra food for good behaviour during this time.

Matthew Wilson's cell warms a few degrees.

Cassandra Hall's cell returns to full clarity in the front as if nothing happened. However, the front of her cell now displays her ID in large block letters.


...

Scruffy Tommings's cell increases in brightness by 50% with a 20% increase in sedatives.

Zilla Levina's cell is treated the same way.


... good behaviour is rewarded. Disobedience is punished.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The crane dropped off Wayland Smith's cell somewhere far different than expected. Instead of the transition station, the cube, now tinted on his side so that he may not see the entire facility or the route taken, is brought to a large room with a regular metal table with six chairs around it. The table is obviously not one for examinations. As soon as the inmate's room was set securely on the ground, the walls cleared to reveal the space. Several minutes passed before a door on the far side opened and a tall man wearing an immaculate suit entered. He had blond hair which was short everywhere but a strip just off the center. A curtain of it hung straight over one eye, rippling with each paced step of his Oxfords. His hands were clasped behind his back, gloved and firm. He was obviously very at ease.

Slowly, he made his way to the table and slid into a chair. His elbows rested on the table and his fingers folded before his lips. He sat there for nearly ten minutes, simply inspecting the inmate before him, before he finally spoke.

"What's your name, Thirteen-Thirty-Seven? Or do you remember it?" His voice was soft, soothing, almost like a tenor lullaby. His head tilted amiably, shifting the hair away from one bright blue eye. "Unless of course you'd rather I use that address."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Cassandra Hall
"I miss the sky, the rain, the sun...I miss it all."






Image
Waking up after a detonation was one of the most painful experiences Cassandra had ever endured. The torturous games that the men in lab coats played made no comparison, not to say they weren't painful because they were, but as soon as the plasmatic liquid that was left behind after the explosion started to reform her brain the pain started. White hot, excruciating fire that burned her over and over again. Cells, tissues, and organs started to group back together molecule by molecule. Muscles stretched and strained over regrowing bones, joints connecting with small pops and snaps. The reformation process felt like hours to Andy, but in all reality it only took a few minutes.

She was able to start moving before her body was completed, gritting her teeth through the pain as she sat up, watching in fascinated awe as small collections of the plasma rolled across the floor, up her foot, leg, and stomach to patch the skin on her cheek, another piece wrapping around the bone of a finger. Gasping, sweaty, and exhausted the woman sat in the corner of the cell walls, eyes fluttering close, naked skin rising with goosebumps against the chilled air. Cassandra pulled her knee to her chest, eyes flicking open to squint against the lights as the tint on the walls fades away. Looking across the hall she was ready to tell Brimstone that the labs weren't mad at her anymore, that they would be okay. But emptiness met her eyes, heart dropping in her chest, stomach knotting in sickness as she shook her head slowly. "No, no, no, no...this is all my fault." Cassandra whispered.