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Valen "The Shade" King

"Life is nothing but a futile spark, struggling against the darkness but ultimately doomed to failure. I represent the darkness that lies at the end of all. So how can you expect to stop me?"

0 · 248 views · located in Earth

a character in “Facility”, as played by Asper

Description

Image
Name: Valen King

Aliases: The Shade (just Shade for short)

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Face Claim: Tom Cato Visnes

Extra physical info: Valen is 5'11 ft tall, he has pale skin, long black hair, and black eyes. He is skinny when compared to others but he uses his small frame and agile body to his advantage.

Power:
  • Shadow Plane Darkness Manipulation: This unique ability allows him to channel Darkness from the Plane of Shadow, this Darkness, though it may share similar traits with average darkness, is nothing like it. Darkness from the Plane of Shadow is able to resist the cleansing properties of light, it is dense enough to be classified as physical matter while remaining as fluid as gasses and water. The nature of this darkness is consuming in nature and erodes the mind of the who channels it. Valen's control over this ability is very limited, it has only emerged so far in extreme emotional circumstances. He himself does not understand the true extent of this ability and thus the darkness he channels is considerably weak and almost useless in bright light.
    Being kept in a room with built in ceiling, wall, and floor lights weakens him greatly not allowing him to use his ability much.
  • Hatred Empowerment: When feeling great amounts of hatred, whether it be constant or a short spike, his physical body grows stronger, faster, and more durable. Mentally he becomes more focused, his killing intent grows stronger, and his ability to manipulate True Darkness becomes more instinctual. If he constantly has strong sedatives in his system, it can put a damper on his capacity for hatred. This ability is a bit of a double edged sword, when he indulges in his hatred he is confident, calm under pressure, and far more effective in life and death situations. However it constantly corrupts him, as his hatred grows stronger so does his detachment from other human emotions and needs.

Personality: Dark, vengeful, detached, and sadistic are a few words to describe Valen. Knowledge has often been said to be the downfall of many individuals, in Valen's case this is very true. He has always been considered a genius in the fields of psychology and philosophy, so much that through years of observation and deep thought he has adopted and nihilistic attitude towards the Universe and a deep seated hatred for humanity. This has had a significant drawback to his social ability, making him unable to 'function' around others. Thus he prefers solitude, being most comfortable when being able to keep his distance from others. All his life he has lived with a natural killing intent, looking at his fellow humans as potential prey or threats to his well being. He is paranoid, accustomed to looking for hidden intentions and being untrustful of any he meets, even very close friends and family.

Biography: Valen was a single child growing up, his father died in an accident before he was born and his mother developed and powerful depression; she commited suicide when he was 7. From a young age he looked at the world as cruel and unfair, losing his faith in religion at a very young age. A part of him still had faith in the world when he was a teenager, he tried hard to fit in with others, to give them a chance. But his underlining disorders and his tendency to see the truth behind things almost made it impossible to function in relationships whether they be with friends or lovers. Eventually he decided he wanted nothing to do with the world when he reached the age of 18. Secluding himself in an apartment he held little contact with others besides his one true friend, Nathan, a man who had developed schizophrenia from a young age. The two shared equal hatred for the world around them, though for slightly different reasons. Valen was content enough remaining withdrawn from the world, in till his friend was hit by a drunk driver. The man given a small sentence and was safely tucked away in prison, Valen found this unacceptable, his Hatred Empowerment manifested; sending him on a hunt for the man. In his efforts to break into the prison the man was located in he was shot several times by security guards, his powers over darkness manifested. The resulting slaughter would never make the papers though, being covered up by the Facility. Before he could reach his target he was apprehended by officials from the Facility and transported there. It has been one year since he was first locked up, deep within him his hatred has continued to fester as well as his growing connection to the darkness he is cut off from.

Likes:
  • Solitude- Valen honestly prefers being alone, his own thoughts are all the company he needs.
  • Animals- Animals hold an innocence Valen can never deny, he has never caused harm to any animal.
  • Contemplation- Valen is not content with his observations unless he fully analyzes everything around him.
Dislikes:
  • Humans- He has a deep seated hatred for all of humanity, looking down on them with disgust and a powerful desire to purge them all.
  • Socializing- He see's little point in the idle ramblings of conversation, often only speaking what he feels in necessary to be said.
  • Weakness- Mental weakness most of all disgust him, giving him an innate need to wipe out all weakness whether it be in others or himself.
Strengths:
  • Darkness- His abilities are much more powerful and manifest easier in darkness.
  • Hatred & Pride- These emotions are his primary crutches, they increase his odds for survival.
Weaknesses:
  • Bright light- Strong light sources weaken his abilities and even cause him immense pain and suffering.
  • Insanity- Valen often hears voices, sees things that are not there, and is frequented by terrible scarring nightmares. He has not slept fully in several years, giving him obvious strain and a constant fatigue.
Fears: Valen's only true fear is dying without making his hatred known to the world, he refuses to die in till humanity has suffered for its crimes throughout history and in the modern era.

So begins...

Valen "The Shade" King's Story

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Valen King has been assigned ID number 1926. His cell is constructed of polymers and is, of course, well lit.

Welcome to the Facility.

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Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King
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#, as written by Asper
Through a world of darkness walked the black figure, tendrils of darkness, black mountains of smoke, and fields that consumed life surrounded him. The black figure continued to walk, unperturbed by the horrors that surrounded him; after what seemed like an eternity he arrived to a giant gate. Its designs were to frightening to describe, its power radiating, like a black sun. The black figure stretched out his hand, reaching to grasp the gates handles; but before he could reach it, his hand wisped away like smoke.

Valen's eyes fluttered open, he quickly shut them and positioned his arm over them to block the blinding light. His thoughts were slow, they had to be forced, but within a few moments he quickly remembered where he was. The familiar sensation of burning from the radiate room of his cell reminded him, that he was still in the Facility. How cruel it is, he thought, that the only comforting darkness he experienced was that in his dreams.

Slowly he sat up and uncovered his eyes, after being in this room for a year his sight had still not grown accustomed to the constant light. He slowly looked around taking in his surroundings as he had done hundreds of times, the ceiling, the walls, and even the floor had lights installed in them. All of these lights were protected by sheets of industrial glass, even a sledge hammer wouldn't of been able to crack the glass.

Valen stood from his bed and stumbled over to the sink, splashing water on his face, it was refreshing but did nothing to stop the searing pain. The pain was a familiar feeling, brought on by the light that surrounded him. It was not unbearable, but felt akin to how one would feel if their skin was exposed to harsh chemicals.

Sitting back down, he closed his eyes and listened to his surroundings, the screams of a new inmate met his ears. Valen felt pity for this poor soul, little did he known this would be the place he spent the rest of his life. His pity was quickly purged, replaced by the familiar blaze of his anger and hate, it had been one year since he was captured. Today the drunk driver who had killed his dearest friend would be released back into the world, free to live out the rest of his life, never thinking of the dark force that wished strongly for his suffering.

Valen sat there, meditating on the hatred he felt, only feeling it grow stronger in reaction to his discontent. How dare the world lock him away, how dare those lowly humans restrain him! The dark force raged within him, for now he was doomed to sit here and wait. But the day would come when these lights would fade, darkness may be held back for now, but it always returned. After all, it was the final result of all things, and like darkness, he would spare no one of his fury.

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Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King Character Portrait: Zilla Levina
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#, as written by Asper
Valen sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed listening to the snippets of conversation from other inmates. He could hear the grief and weariness in their voices, there were some who has been there longer then him. Yet he doubted they felt how he did, to have the one who had caused so much pain in his heart be torn from his grasp before the killing blow could be delivered. It was infuriating, nothing in the world seemed more justified to him then the right to take the life of one who had wronged you.

His eyes fluttered open, a staff of the Facility said, "Meds," the slot in the door opened and a tray with food and pills slid in. Before he could take the tray he had to make a point of putting the pills in his mouth and pretending to swallow, satisfied the man went on completing his rounds. There may of been little to no available darkness in the cell, but there was darkness within his body, where no light could touch. He manipulated the shadows within him, making them destroy the pill completely. For a month now he had not been taking his pills, they were made to stunt his capacity for hatred, to keep him weak. Valen did not accept that, hatred and darkness were his greatest source of strengths, they had already robbed him of his nightly domain, they would not calm his hatred.

He picked at his food, trying to eat it but it simply did not taste the same, over the past year Valen had noticed how food did not fill him up anymore. Could it be a development of his abilities? Whatever it was he decided he was done eating and tossed the rest of the food in the toilet and flushed it away. He stood with his back too the wall and listened throughout the cells for activity, there was another there whose abilities were related to darkness. Unlike him though, she seemed to be in constant fear of the darkness within her taking over. It had been to late for Valen, darkness held a strong grasp on him from a young age, he recognized it as futile to fight ones nature.

"Its ok, the darkness can't get you, it cant hurt you, it's okay." The girl whispered to herself, Valen's senses were far stronger then an average humans, through these walls he could hear many conversations between inmates. "QUIET!" she shrieked, her misery was strong, yet she did not understand the call of True Darkness. "Its okay," he said through the wall, hoping his voice would at least reach her, "you may fear your abilities now, but you are stronger, far stronger then any human could ever hope to be." Suddenly the lights flickered, it was for only a few seconds but it came as no surprise, his room had a lot of power diverted to it to keep the lights going at a constant. The few moments of darkness was enough, enough for him to speak one message to the inmates there, one only they would hear. "Soon my brothers and sisters... soon these chains that bind us will weaken. We WILL escape, they will know our fury..." the power the darkness gave him was spent, he could not continue the message. The ability was fairly simple, the few seconds of darkness in his cell provided a link to the rest of the darkness in the facility, but it was a gamble; he had no idea how far his voice would truly reach.
Hopefully it went far enough, to at least make it known to the still defiant there that they were not so alone. That would keep some of them from giving up, he would need as many allies as he could when the time to wreak havoc upon their captors.

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Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King Character Portrait: Zilla Levina
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She lifted her head up slightly at the sound of someone speaking to her, someone else who seemed to understand the darkness or at least how it made her feel. The voice told her she was stronger, stronger than her darkness, something she wanted to believe but just couldn't yet. Nevertheless she was grateful for the persons voice placing a hand on the wall from which it came through, clinging to those words to give her hope and confidence.

It was at this moment she heard something that took her attention away from the noise, her shout having done nothing to quieten people. The word "escape." Had she heard it correctly? The person on the other side of the wall had said that they would escape. She didn't know or understand how that was possible, nor did she want to think about the consequences of failure after the previous announcement. Yet that one small word stuck to her mind over everything else, giving her new hope, a reason to be strong.


She kept herself calm for now, telling herself not to get to worked up at the prospect of escaping She wanted to ask the man how it was possible, at least it sounded like a man. Despite wanting to know though she was held back by her fears, not having talked to anyone since she had arrived after discovering her power. Bringing herself to shout earlier only made her retreat further into herself, making it so that she couldn't talk to the person, still not trusting them. If only she could see them, be with them and let them gain her trust.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Cassandra Hall Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King Character Portrait: SETTING
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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

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Character Portrait: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King Character Portrait: Matthew "Stretch" Wilson Character Portrait: Zilla Levina
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Roald didn't dare to move away from the voice, not even after the revelation that the American was impossible. Fantasy or not, he was here and he was speaking to the young man. As he went on, Ro tried to learn about him. He sounded like some people Roald knew from his own school. A couple of his own friends. Hell, he could relate with a few of those problems. He'd done more than a couple all night shoots just before a project was due.

Something dawned on him. It was desperate, but maybe it was true? He had friends who could fake accents, and there were lots of sets available that he hadn't seen yet. Hell, maybe the man across from him had given him the biggest hint of all with the idea of pranking. An uneasy breath blew from barely parted lips. "If this is a joke, it's really no' funny. I want ta go see my Dad, alright? I dunnae have money to buy another ticket. I'm no' in any fraternity, nor am I interested in--"

Then came the bellow from far off. Further than was possible for any contained set on campus. Another. Then a scream of the purest agony he had ever heard. Roald's eyes misted over with the crushing realisation that this was no prank. This was very, very real, and that was no sound of a simple broken arm. That man, woman, child, maybe even animal, might have just died. Then another shriek. The Scot broke. He let out a bubbly whimper and clung to the wall as the tears started. He was terrified. More than he ever had been.

"M-Matthew, I dunnae want ta die, I-I wan-- I want ta go home," he breathed desperately. "I jus' want ta see my Dad, I j-jus'... I... want ta go home, I dunna-- I'm no' ready ta die..."

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Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King
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#, as written by Asper
Valen found himself in a familiar dream, walking through the land of darkness, it appeared more twisted then usual. Black lands and dark objects stretched into the sky, twisted and corrupted. Shadowy figures walked about, reenacting old memories of Valen's, he walked in till he came upon the Black Door. Yet it was different, new details carved upon it, the most notable were Five Seals, each of strange and alien design. Valen reach his hand forward, but instead of the dream fading and the door disappearing, he was able to touch it. The lowest of the Seals glowed, turning slowly like a cog and then splitting into two, The Black Door creaked as it opened ever so slightly. A great darkness began to pour from the crack, though it was a small stream in comparison to its full might. Valen stood there, feeling fear and awe, he attempted to touch the Second Seal, but the land began to shake. The dream came crashing apart, Valen trying desperately in the last few seconds to touch the door, and then.. darkness.

Pain, such horrible pain Valen found himself in, where am I? He thought to himself, he tried to speak but his jaw would not budge, he tried to look away from great beacon of light in the sky but he could not. Was this punishment? Somewhere inside, Valen knew that must be the case, but all he could truly focus on was the pain. How long had he layed there under the sun? Even though he couldn't see his body, he could feel the blisters had already formed. All the light focused on him was comparable to having fire blazing from beneath his skin. His eyes, sensitive as they were, felt as they had razors drawn across them, Valen was unable to see anything, but he could not close them. His face was rigid, and he could not force himself to stop grinning, they definitely pumped something through the tube connected to his mask. It made it hard to breathe, there was little oxygen coming through the tube, he was thirsty and hungry as well. Normally, he could survive from the energies darkness gave him, but all that was purged from him by the intense light. Such pain, he had never thought possible.

Emotions raged throughout Valen: Fear, anguish, rage, hatred, but the worse was the one the new drugs they gave him. Happiness, it was not meant to be there, but it only served to alarm him so much more. He wanted desperately to scream, but all he could do was groan through his teeth. How terrible it felt being unable to vocalize his great pain, how long must he lay here? Enduring the chuckles and comments of those outside, enduring the terrible pain that wracked his body.

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Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King
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#, as written by Asper
Valen, still strapped to the table, was forced to experience the full pain of the sun's light. He thought of how he wished to eliminate such a weakness, but what could he do. He was Darkness, the ever present force that awaited on the edges of space, he was the Shadows under beds, and the Night that provided cover for predators. Light would always be his enemy, but one day, all light will fade. All there will ever be in the end is darkness, the inescapable truth, the truth that made him superior; that gave him greatness!

Valen lied there in agonizing pain, his body taking such great trauma, and even his psyche screaming for mercy. Yet deep in the core of his being, his true thoughts whirled around, making sense of dark knowledge. The reoccurring dream he was plagued with had finally become clear, it was his conscious, and The Black Door, was none other then the source of his power: The Shadow Plane.

He theorized that the opening of the First Seal was due to his limits being expanded, before he showed only small control over the Darkness, only truly using it when he had allowed his hatred to take control. Yet now, everything was different, such power can only be wielded through understanding. The breaking of the First Seal gifted him with a small amount of that understanding, as well as gifting him with new senses. Valen could see through the darkness around him, but it honestly couldn't be called seeing. It reminded him of a bats method for seeing, using noise that bounces off of physical obstacles, giving the bat an understand of the shape and distance. It was like this but entirely different, he saw through his shadow, though it was weak and feeble, it let him see every bit of the room. In this dark sight no light existed, there were no intricate details and shades, it was merely the shapes and the indents of everything in the room.

Valen was in no way separate from his body though, he was just gifted with a new perspective. He still felt the pain of the burning light, his shadow even felt its own pain, it had gained properties from the Plane of Shadow. Taking on a bit of his subconscious, while still remaining a part of his active thoughts and control. It was still weak though, it would need time to grow more powerful, but that was all Valen had now, Time.

For now Valen had no option of doing anything else, except taking his torture and hopefully not wasting any of his time. However long he would be in here, it would be hell, yet if he survives it, his revenge will only be so much closer.

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#, as written by Asper
Valen awoke to stinging pain, more then usual, his new shadow sight was still underdeveloped, and he could only make out the dark silhouettes of people in the room. "Patient #1926 has recieved more damage then previously estimated, within a day of full exposure to the sun." There was a great sensation of pain on his arm, like one was tearing off his skin, "He has begun showing signs of Mid-dermal burns, sunlight appears to have the same effect as fire on a human. It is estimated at this point that in three days, he will have Full-thickness burns, scarring is certain and he will likely need medical aid to survive." Valen's heart skipped a beat, had his pain only just begun? Would he survive? The physician chuckled under his breath, "If he survives, he will be of no threat to The Facility, a good example don't you think?" another voice, "Yes, Si-" the physician cut in, "Increase the dosage as well, can't have him calling upon that hatred."

The hissing of gas was followed by there voices, as they exited the cell. The experimental gas begin crumbling away at his will, his control over the muscles in his face began to fall apart as a painful grin spread from cheek-to-cheek. Though Valen tried all he could, he could not hold in the short burst of muffled laughter. The mask did not allow his jaw to open to produce such sounds effectively, it only brought more discomfort to him.

Valen would not cry for help though, he could not, death seemed better, then admitting his weakness... All the while, he would still hear the snide comments of staff members, apathetic to his suffering. When all this was over, when they had finally had their fun, he would teach them of the pain he felt now.

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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.

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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: Roald Hartford Character Portrait: Valen "The Shade" King Character Portrait: Matthew "Stretch" Wilson
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A wolf. Or a big dog.

If Roald weren't in such excruciating pain he would have laughed.

Matthew... That's almost as ridiculous as being elastic, he tried to say with some mirth, but yet again some sort of undulating whine drowned him out. His tongue felt so heavy, anyway, likely wouldn't have been distinguishable from garbled gibberish. It was as if he were still on fire, but those flames were slowly being put out. This bloke honestly believed that he was some sort of superhero... Was he really in an asylum? He wasn't crazy, he knew he wasn't, and what sort of asylum had polymer walls and tormented screams? Not to mention no doors.

His train of thought was cut off by the loudspeaker and a source of hazy light at the top of his vision (still skewed, somehow). He could barely make out the top of a picture. Some sort of video. The gray mass was shifting in time with the little giggles drilling through his ears. God, why was everything so loud?

But it only got worse. The picture shifted to where he could see some of what was actually happening. He heard everything, sharp and distorted as it was with the whine of electric whirring hammering his eardrums. Horror didn't begin to describe what coursed through him. Coupled with the pain, the terror, and the attack on his mind from that nagging voice to his right, Roald finally drifted into blissful darkness.

Thank you...