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Thomas Mullen

Who knows what the future holds?

0 · 268 views · located in Earth

a character in “Facility”, as played by TushoKa

Description

Image


Name:
Thomas Mullen

Aliases:
Tom, Tommy

Age:
22

Gender:
Male

Face Claim:
Iain de Caestecker

Height:
5'11"
Weight:
160lbs
Eyes:
Blue
Hair:
Blond

Power:
Tom can see the future in various ways. First of all he lives constantly in the present as well as about one minute in the future. This means he sees things before they happen, this works only for his direct surroundings, what he could normally see or hear. There is no way where he could see the future in another place, unless he is watching TV or listening to radio. There he also see or hears a minute into the future.
Secondly he can look further into the future while meditating, but it is still limited to his surroundings. This works simple, the longer he meditates the farther he can look into the future. Lastly there are the dreams. While dreaming Tom can see very far in the future, even years, however he has no control at all in regards to his dreams.
His powers are a constant drain on his health. After meditating he experiences heavy migraines. He used to have this all the time, but with experience it does become less.
He used to write down his dreams as soon as he woke up to remember them better. In the Facility however, he was not granted pen and paper and as such he can hardly remember his dreams.
Tom's cell is not a special one. He has no physical power that would make it easy for him to break out. Since the Facility does not want Tom to meditate they send random electric charges to his cell. When shocked Tom is not able to continue his meditation, nor is he able to start from the point where he left off. Another method the Facility uses to stop him from meditating is to darken his cell for long times, even days. The thing is you don't want to see that you spend the next three days in darkness, you hope the light switches on at any moment.

Personality:
Although Tom has a good heart there are many that would claim otherwise. Tom has been able to use his power to his advantage for a long time and has taken that opportunity with both hands. He will fight for his friends, even if it would seem hopeless to him. He would have done the same for the family that would have stuck with him, but no family ever did. Tom is not a very serious person and jokes a lot, although his time at the Facility has made this far less then it used to be.

Biography:
Tom has had a lot of families, but none of them his own. He was left at the doorstep of the church when he was 1 week old. The first 5 years he grew up at the church under the guardianship of the Priest. After that he was placed in foster care and moved around quite a bit. None of the foster homes ever knew of his powers, they just thought he reacted very fast to different situations. Because of this he was named brilliant several times and foster homes would get in line for him. However, they wanted to get rid of him just as easily. Fights and the constant nightmares were something that happened on a daily basis. In his teens, Tom really did notice he was not just fast, but special. Fights were easy to win if you knew when and where the opponent would strike and where his defence would become weak. The rules did not apply to Tom and stealing and cheating was easier then buying and learning. As Tom is certainly not a stupid boy he would have been able to go through it with ease, but nothing is more easy then cheating when you know you will never get caught.
Tom joined different activities in high school such as sports and math clubs. Math was easy if your opponent gives you the answer one minute before they can even say it out loud. He also became popular with girls at this time in his live. He could start kissing any girl and he would know already if they would slap him or not. If they would, it was not worth trying in the first place.
On his 18th birthday Tom left his current foster home to start living on his own. He started working at the stock exchange. Due to meditating he was able to predict the right choices in order to increase his funds. His star was rising and his competitors were not thrilled with his presence. It proved to be a very competitive business and attempts were made to take Tom's life. He survived two attempts and although he could literally see them coming he decided it was time to leave, to disappear.
He had received a letter to join a program at something called the Facility. The Facility made big promises in regards to money and he signed up as a so called Receiver, although Tom did not exactly know what this meant. After 2 days at the program and a number of blood tests he was asked to see one of the scientists working there, Dr. Heckens. He had a long interview with him until the doctor excused himself from the room. With nothing else to do Tom concentrated on the future. 15 Minutes before Dr. Heckens and two guards walked in Tom had left and had been able to escape the building which was far less secure on the "Receiver's side".
For 18 hours Tom was able to stay out of the hands of the Facility, evading them with his gift. He realised too late he had cornered himself, and there were more people with the Facility Retrieval Squad then he could outrun. After being tazered he remembers waking up in the cell he had occupied since. And now he had been there for 6 months.

Likes:
Gambling, sports (watching and playing), living in the big city
Dislikes:
Silence, complete darkness, food of which it can no longer be seen what it used to be

Strengths:
Reaction speed, high intelligence
Weaknesses:
The almost constant migraines, considering others (since he had to consider only himself for so long)

Fears:
Torture, some people say it hurts more to not know what is coming, Tom can assure everyone that knowing what is coming does not make it any better.

So begins...

Thomas Mullen's Story

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Thomas Mullen has been assigned ID number 1942. His cell is constructed of polymers which are still tinted due to his initial disobedience and the time spent chasing him down. To keep him from meditating, short, sharp electrical pulses are occasionally administered by an anklet he is required to wear. Unlike most Powered, which will break down to the grasp of insanity soon enough, his process is being sped up by random spans of complete darkness and harsh, warbling screeching. Eventual visual and auditory damage will ensue from this. He is currently three and a half days into one of these phases. Emergency measure: gas grenade.

Welcome to the Facility.

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

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#, as written by TushoKa
The morning message was one of the few indications for Tom that it was morning. It hadn't woken him today. However, the screeching that started about 1 hour ago had. It seemed to be a contest between the guards that were undoubtly watching him in his cell, would Tom be awoken by the electric charge on his anklet or by the screeching that seemed to come from every wall in his cell. He liked to think that he had the last laugh as he would not wake up from either. He would wake up one minute before the screeching or the charge happened. He always hoped it would confuse the guards as to who had actually woken him up. Sometimes the shock the guards would get from this would have them both forget to activate either system which would leave Tom shockless and screechless. Mostly though, it became a free for all to activate both, ensuring a rough morning for the 22 year-old captive.

When the morning message stopped, the screeches did as well. The next sign of life could be heard in the hallway beyond his cell. A cart with food was on the way, most probably with grey goo and some medication. A slit of light appeared at the place where the door to his cell was. The first light Tom had seen in about 12 hours. It was gone after mere seconds and Tom knew the shadowy figure had slit in his plate of food and his medication. He knew because of the routine, not because he could see it. The last three days in complete darkness had left his eyes dried out and he wondered how long it would take to get his sight back whence the lights would be back on. On the other side of the door the guard spoke: "Meds."
Tom crawled toward the entrance and easily found the tray. His hand automatically moved to where the medication was. His hand moved toward his mouth. He knew what would happen if he only pretended to take the medication. A shock would follow and the guard would speak again. The same steps would be repeated until Tom had taken his medication. Although Tom wanted to show resilience, he was tired after the last few days of darkness, screeches and short naps. He put the meds in his mouth and swallowed. Behind the door he could hear the cart going on, to be back only 12 hours from now.

The cart was the only way Tom realized he wasn't alone. He had not seen another person since he came here six months ago, the tinted polymer walls didn't allow him to. He wondered if he was the only one treated like this and if he would ever meet one of the others. He would keep on trying not to go crazy as best he could until he could get out of this place. He had once learned on an excursion to Alcatraz that prisoners that were locked in complete darkness took a button from their shirt, threw it away, and then would try to find it, to stop themselves from going luny. Tom had tried the same thing, but he was sure it was less fun if you could see yourself finding it a minute before you should.

Instead he now tried to meditate to see further in the future, like he always used to. As soon as the guards recognized him doing this the screeching started again. here we go again

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#, as written by TushoKa
The screeching stopped about an hour after it started. Tom's ears would still ring for at least another half hour. If this treatment would go on much longer his hearing would be damaged permanently. And I might need it when I get out of here. Tom had tried to meditate while pretending he was not meditating. He thought he would be able to meditate while pacing up and down if he would practice enough. It had worked a bit, at least he wasn't shocked as much as when he would meditate sitting still. But at the same time it was harder to look into the future. The guards sent out a clear message in regards to his pacing up and down. They were okay with it for the past 45 minutes, but now sedative gas filled the tiny cell and Tom's body started to feel heavy. He sat down on the edge of the bed, still not seeing anything in the darkness of his cell.

Tom did not pass out from the sedatives this time, the concentration had probably been less dense then before. Lying on his bed he listened for any other sound now that the screeching had stopped. He thought he could hear the faint sound of electrical buzzing far above his head. He could not think of any reason for the buzzing that would be benefitial to him, so he just hoped it had nothing to do with him. I'm really starting to think like a selfish bastard, he thought.

He still had no idea who his fellow inmates were. Were they also people that could see the future? Were they criminals? He himself had not always exactly followed the law. His cheating on the stock exchange could be worth a prison sentence. However he did not deserve this, to not see another person for months, fit with an anklet with electrical charges, tortured by audio and visual tools. This was inhuman.

If only he coud talk to somebody...

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#, as written by TushoKa
I was saved. The entire world population was in danger. Out of 6 billion people I had been chosen. Locked up in a box for my own safety. By now the rest of the population had died of some weird disease or alien invasion. Whatever they died of it must have hurt a lot. And to top it all, the other last person alive is sacrificing himself to bring Tom his food and antidotes every single day.

It would be better if this was true, not perfect, but better. Tom knew that it wasn't true though and he had some very good reasons for this. Firstly there is no such thing as the other last man, there can only be one last man. Secondly, if it were true it would be best to tell Tom about the disaster that had happened. And even if it wasn't, there was no reason to not even have a book or a deck of cards in this place. If he had a deck of cards he could play poker with all his cell mates. The fourth reason was this anklet, no reason at all to shock the last man on Earth. And the last reason, certainly not the least important, why was the food he got so damned awful. It was dull as a starter, then an excellent main course of bland with a scrumptious salad of tasteless on the side. And the dessert was a splendid, simplified neutral in taste.

Feeling tired and bullied Tom got down on his knees in the middle of his cell, brought his shaking hands together and folded them in front of his chest. As a 14 year old, after another bad foster parent, he had sworn never to take this position again.

Well I've never prayed,
But tonight I'm on my knees, yeah


With a trembling voice he continued softly.

I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah.
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now.
But the airwaves are clean and there's nobody singing to me now.


Weak of body and heavy in emotions he fell to the floor. After these 6 heavy months there appeared to be no tears left,Who was there to cry for in any case, nobody had ever cried for him. His eyes closed and as he fell asleep on the floor the music continued in his head.

No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,
But I'm here in my mould, I am here in my mould.
And I'm a million different people from one day to the next
I can't change my mould, no, no, no, no, no

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
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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."

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#, as written by TushoKa
While still laying on the floor the sound of soft, but uncontrollable giggling sent shivers down Tom's spine. Coming to his senses he could see a light in his room, it seemed to be a television screen. Since he hadn't seen light in days, he was not able to focus his eyes on the screen just yet. Hearing the giggling Tom was sure there would be nothing funny to see, it sounded off. Hearing the giggling continue, Tom got the strong feeling that he was lucky he couldn't watch the screen, and even luckier he wasn't the one giggling. Tom forced himself to continue listening, the least he could do for the person being tortured was to stay strong. The punished person had probably defied the Facility in some way and if his torture would make people more obedient, it would not honour him in the right way. Tom sat back on his knees and squinted his eyes to try and see the TV screen. When he could almost see what was being done to the unlucky prisoner, he could hear that an announcement was coming.

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...

As the words end, the light in Tom's cell finally came on after what must have been about 4 days. As the wailing faded away as well, Tom could not help to feel relieved. The lights had never been out this long yet and Tom dreaded the day that the lights would never go back on. Seeing what was coming Tom backed up to the wall that was furthest from the door. The door opened and more food was placed on the floor. Tom did not get a good look at the person bringing the food, but he knew for sure it was not the same guard as earlier today and he didn't hear the sound of a cart this time. The door closed and Tom moved closer to see if they brought him some more grey goo. To his surprise he recognised different kinds of vegetable and even a small piece of meat. Without realising what he did the words escaped his mouth: Thank you....

He picked up the food and moved toward his bed.

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

As Tom attacked the food he thought about the words that came over the announcer. Do not bind the hand that feeds you. This seemed to be the motto of the Facility. Kind of the 'Arbeit macht frei' that the Nazi's used for the concentration camps. The motto was ridiculous. If the Facility hadn't locked him up he would have been able to get his own food. He hadn't done a bad job on the stock market, he would be able to live his life without hurting anyone. You can hardly consider me dangerous.

1926 was the number of the prisoner that was being tortured. Tom had been called 1942 by the guards, this must mean that he had a cell close to Tom. Tom half expected that he would have heard something, if it was so bad that it deserved this treatment. He blamed it on the wailing that his cell was still exposed to at the time the disobedience must have happened. What does that mean for me? Would he ever see this prisoner? Or any other for that matter.

The announcement had stated that this was only day one of three of the punishment.If it dies, it's its own fault for disobeying. Tom thought about that. No dipshit, it is not. It would definitely be the fault of the Facility. He hadn't locked himself up in something that was not even worth of being named 'cell'. It was not more then a box. And they were stored away as storage in that box. Although this place had unscrewed a few things in Tom's head, he was sure that he would always remember that his imprisonment and all bearings that came with it was the Facility's fault.

We only want the best for you was the last thing of importance that Tom would put up for questioning. If that was true he again would not be in a box, more in a penthouse in Miami beach. Surfing during the day and partying at night. Surfing, he missed it. He always caught the best waves since he could see them coming before anyone else. Tom's mind went to a better place while finishing his plate. I don't even know if I will ever see the sky again, let alone the ocean.