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Winston Fields

"Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back."

0 · 514 views · located in New York City

a character in “Time is Running Out”, as played by Scarlet Loup

Description



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"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely."
~ Lord Acton




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N A M E
Winston James Fields

N I C K N A M E
His name lacks strong nicknames, so he often is just referred to by his full first name. However, "Win" is an acceptable nickname but only from close friends.

G E N D E R
Male

A G E
Thirty-one

N A T I O N A L I T Y
He was born and raised American, but he can trace his roots back to England and Germany.

A L L I A N C E
Youngbloods

S E X U A L I T Y
Bisexual

"Anyone who seeks power wants absolute power."
~ Robert Shea


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H E I G H T
Winston stands evenly at six feet.

W E I G H T
He weighs roughly one hundred and fifty-five pounds. One tends to stop weighing themselves when the world is thrown into chaos.

H A I R C O L O U R
Winston's hair is a very dark shade of brown that appears black.

E Y E C O L O U R
His eyes are bluish-green.

S K I N T O N E
Winston's skin is a light pale tone that contrasts with his dark hair.

G E N E R A L__A P P E A R A N C E
To put it bluntly, Winston Fields is a handsome man, and he certainly is quite aware of it. His eyes are a bright combination of blue and green, and they often crinkle slightly when he smiles. His hair, which is a very dark shade of brown, is often kept well groomed and styled. Though he never grows his facial hair out, he often does like to keep a bit of stubble on his chin and cheeks. His cheekbones are laced high on his face, and his cheeks themselves are slightly hollowed, giving his face a sculpted appearance. As for clothing, he often dresses well despite the world having ended. After all, he has a big job to do in terms of re building and rehabilitating the world.

"Power resides only where men believe it resides."
~ George R.R. Martin


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P E R S O N A L I T Y
Winston comes from very old money, and mostly for this reason, he believes that he is far better than everyone else. Before the world went to shit, he was New York City's mayor, and the people adored him, for he knew how to get the job done. Beneath his businesslike exterior, however, Winston often comes off as pretentious and rude. This is, mostly likely, because he is pretentious and rude. To the public, however, he is an angel, and the current apocalypse has only made such image greater. Power is one of the only driving forces in his life. It is what drove him to leave behind a life running his father's business to tackle politics. When the world was still in order, he had hoped to become President. Now, with World War III in full swing,he had decided to settle simply for the leader of New York City. He'll move up in the ranks soon enough. The problem with his leadership at this point in time, however, is that he has little concept of how to rule people during war time except for what he has gathered from history textbooks. Though history repeats itself, the world certainly hasn't experienced an event as catastrophic as this one.

In private, once one grows to accept his inherent arrogance, they may be able to see that he is a very intelligent man who is, perhaps, just seriously misguided. But that is a conclusion that must be drawn by oneself. Many have openly called him a demagogue, but others have called him a savior. In his eyes, he is the only one who deserves the nearly absolute power he wields over New York City. Only time will tell.


"Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back."
~ Carl Sagan


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L I K E S
β–² Power β–² Classical Music β–² Isabelle Vanderbilt β–² Jackson Wilkins β–² Moneyβ–² Alcohol β–² Cigars β–² Dogs β–² Sunshine β–² Swimming β–² Stylish Clothing β–² History β–² Sex β–² Warmth β–²

D I S L I K E S
β–Ό Rebellion β–Ό Katrina Lyons β–Ό Futile Arguments β–ΌDairy Products β–Ό Cats β–Ό Physical Fights β–Ό Being Wrong β–Ό Being Attacked β–Ό Dressing Poorly β–Ό Wailing or Whining β–Ό Being Called a Demagogue β–Ό Low Temperatures β–Ό

Q U I R K S
♦ Obsessed with power ♦ Fears losing said power ♦ Persistent to the point of obsession ♦ Fear of cats ♦ Lactose intolerant ♦ Quirks his eyebrow to prompt someone or when confused ♦ Often hums to himself as he walks about ♦

S K I L L S
✺ Extremely charismatic ✺ Quite capable of speaking extemporaneously ✺ Can play the piano ✺ Capable of manipulating most people ✺


"Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts... perhaps the fear of a loss of power."
~ John Steinbeck


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F A C E C L A I M
Ian Somerhalder

W R I T E R
Scarlet Loup
Feel free to call me Scar, Loup, or Morgan!


So begins...

Winston Fields's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Caleb Smith Character Portrait: James Williams Character Portrait: Stella Markum Character Portrait: Eliza Dallen Character Portrait: Winston Fields Character Portrait: Hazel Luden Character Portrait: Jackson Wilkins Character Portrait: Edmund Lucian Character Portrait: Gert ThaddΓ€us Character Portrait: Ares Bennett Character Portrait: Arabella Fields Character Portrait: Katrina Lyons Character Portrait: Spencer Hunter Hughes
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New York, New York


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As the city taken apart by the third world war progresses, factions build, relationships crumble, and being silenced is a constant fear. Each faction vies for the chance to be in charge, to be heard. In order to do so, the highest ups are put into situations where they must make decisions that can change themselves and the world. The people of New York City know something is coming and they know if they aren't careful, they can be caught in the crossfire.

The city's electricity is scarce, found only by the wealthiest who can afford the gasoline needed to run their generators. Everyone else is forced to use precious batteries and candles in order to see at night. Radios are a common form of communication because of the ability to use batteries, clothing and needed items are scavenged in the abandoned stores that occasionally line side streets of NYC. Money is hard to come by unless one has a job. Clothing stores no longer receive shipments as all gasoline for cars/trucks has been forbidden by most factions in order to save it for the electricity provides though of course, there are the few who bend the rules.

Though WW3 ravages the outside world, New York City has it's own problems to fear as it works out a dangerous battle of power, done by the three most prominent factions, the Youngbloods, Maniacs, and Phoenixes. Those who are extremely dedicated risk everything and in the end, blood can't help but be spilled.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eliza Dallen Character Portrait: Winston Fields Character Portrait: Hazel Luden Character Portrait: Jackson Wilkins Character Portrait: Ares Bennett
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Outfit || Theme Song
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’This is fucking stupid.’ Hazel Luden thought to herself, kicking one of boots across the floor. It’s not like she actually needed to wear them right now. She was stuck in this stupid prison. As far as she could tell, she was never getting out. Why did they even want her here? Sure, she wasn’t on their side but she didn’t do anything against them. It’s not her fault that the Maniacs were… not the most easy going group. She wasn’t even a part of their β€˜inner circle’; unless you count sleeping with one of the leader’s on the inside. They didn’t exactly pillow talk. Most of the time she either fell asleep afterwards of he got up to go do something.

She sighed, walking to the opposite side of the room from the cot, towards the huge window. Was she on the top floor? She was high; she could tell that much as she pressed herself up against the window and tried to peek at the ground. That was an impossibility. She loved heights but she preferred to be outside, somewhere up high. Not caged like a bird. Rolling her eyes, she slid to the ground, scooting over to rest her back against the wall. The room was basically empty except for a glass of water and a half eaten tray of food. The only other thing in there was the cot that was anything but comfortable. She didn’t get much sleep on it.

’How long have I been here?’ She wondered silently. She tried to remember but everything blurred together. She slipped off her leather jacket and tossed it onto the bed. The chill she had felt that morning was gone. She took a quick sniff of her underarms and groaned. She wanted a shower- no a bubble bath Jacuzzi. Now that would feel amazing. She would love some new clothes besides her uncomfortable leather pants that were starting to chafe her. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t love her clothes, she really did. She was just used to fresh clothes, that she could launder. Well, if they wanted to keep her prisoner the least she could do was give them a headache.

Hazel stood up and stomped over to the door. ”I know you’re out there!” She shouted, beating her tiny fist against the door. ”I want to speak to the leader or someone important right now!” She continued, not backing down. Ares always said she looked so nice and innocent, even dressing in a punkish manor. But he had never seen anyone go from a sweet little pixie to a little hellion so fast.

”You took me because you wanna know something about me right? Well, fucking ask! Don’t just sit there and make me wait! You’re just fucking cowardly pussies!” She shouted, giving the door another pound. She stood back, her hands on her hips, glaring at the door. Oh they were there. She knew it. They could hear. She didn’t doubt that there was some sort of camera in this room watching her every move.

Holding up her hand, the pink haired girl flipped off the camera she knew was there. ”Come and get me! Either do something about me or kill me! I’m tired of this shit!”
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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eliza Dallen Character Portrait: Winston Fields Character Portrait: Hazel Luden Character Portrait: Jackson Wilkins
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He liked the way his car disrupted the silence in the eerily quiet city. New York had once been bustling with life, activity, but the turmoil that the city now lay in was easily reflected by the very few people who populated the streets. Most were either working or hiding from the public eye. He hoped, one day, to bring them out into the open, perhaps by imitating the telescreens of an Orwellian novel. To see those who watched his car go by follow his car with hollow eyes was, in its own, sick way, rewarding. No, he hadn't planned to oppress the people when he took it upon himself to take over New York. It had just happened. He could have taken precautions, he could have offered aid. But he didn't. He certainly didn't regret it either. To a certain extent, oppression kept them in line like well-behaved children. Still, there were exceptions to this stereotype.

His chauffeur, a man who had been his bodyguard since before World War III, slowed the car as they approached the massive Empire State Building. Once, it had been a symbol of America, a tribute to commerce, but now it was a symbol of control, the center of government in one of the only functioning portions of America. "I'll see you up there,"
Winston said, nodding to the man as he gathered up his briefcase in one hand. With the other, he popped open the door of the armored SUV. He had wasted no money on making that car, more or less, a tank.

Winston had a short walk from the door of the car to the doors of the building, and he took it quickly, a bit of a spring in his step to propel him forward. He was an optimist, yes, but he was not blind, and he knew many men and women would take it upon themselves to do anyway with him. Still, he had the peacekeepers milling about outside and inside. This was the only time he allowed himself to be vulnerable. It would take little effort to do any with him as he covered the few yards between doors.

As quickly as he had left his car, Winston entered the building. Now, without the walk to consume his mind, he could focus on the business at hand. The Empire State Building was easily one of the only buildings with a decent amount of electricity still surging through it. Winston was instantly met by a gaggle of flunkies, obviously vying to ask him questions due to the gleam in their eyes. The first two had simplistic questions that needed answering, but the third had a message.

"The prisoner from the Maniacs wants to speak with you, Mayor Fields," he said nervously, scuffing a shoe against the floor as Winston stepped into the elevator and beckoned with a swift flick of the finger for him to follow. "She's growing more violent, and the psychologists watching her said it would be best to act now. Her anger will cloud her judgement."

"I see." Winston replied simply, but within, he was thinking deeply. He did not often question any prisoners they received. Instead, the prisoners were recorded, and that footage was then shown to psychologists. Only then, if no breakthroughs could be made, would a specialist be sent in. Hazel, since day one, had been a difficult case. She was an exception to this policy. "I shall see to her. In the mean time, I want you to gather the Inner Party for a meeting in my office. Understood?" The younger man nodded quickly, a lock of hair falling in front of his eyes.

When the elevator reached the floor dedicated to holding prisoners, Winston got off and walked down the hall with his briefcase still in hand. He heard Hazel before he came upon her. Two guards stood at her door, and one of them accepted his briefcase before the other unlocked the door and allowed Winston in.

The pink-haired, punkish girl continued to shout, and he couldn't help but smirk to himself. "What a set of lungs you have," he teased, placing his hands into the pockets of his custom-fit trousers. "Rumor has it you were calling for me. What can I do for you?" He knew exactly what she would want, but he simply couldn't help toying with her like a cat might with a mouse.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Eliza Dallen Character Portrait: Winston Fields Character Portrait: Hazel Luden
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Eliza still can remember the time when she was able to text something to a friend. She remembers the time when it was fun to go out in public. She can remember it all. It may be a year ago but she remembers it like it was yesterday. Eliza woke up from a dream of the past. She didn't care too much about how things were.

She worked to help the Youngbloods. She just took in a prisonar the other day. She was a maniac and she knew that from just seeing her. The leader Winston was probably already awake and dealing with her. She was kind of an odd looking woman. But you shouldn't judge on looks. But then again she judged people for a living.

She got up and changed into a black mini skirt a push up bra and tank top. And grabbed a jacket. She also tied her hair into a pony tail.

She hopped into her car and drove to the Empire State building. It was a place of leadership and order. Well thats what they were trying to work on. World War III took that from them. She thought everything was going good but it changed it really did in the blink of an eye.

She walked up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. She walked to the floor with the office of Winston. She walked to his office and saw he wasn't in there. She knocked and walked right in. The desk had little stuff on it. She sat on the desk and crossed her legs playing with something on his desk that could be of importance to him. "What would he need this for?"
She thought out loud from time to time so it was totally normal for her.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Winston Fields Character Portrait: Hazel Luden
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Hazel's bright blue eyes narrowed as she watched the door open. The Winston Fields himself waltzed in. She could have laughed. What Ares wouldn't have give to be face to face with him. Then again, Winston might now survive that encounter. "The better to scream at you with." She said as if she were reciting the correct words of the wolf in 'Little Red Riding Hood'.

She stood up straighter, crossing her arms over her chest. Sure, she looked like hell, but she didn't have to look that way. She studied him as he spoke, considering what to say next. How could she get what she wanted from him? She pursed her lips for a moment then flopped down on the uncomfortable cot. She rested her hands on the mattress and crossed her legs. "Well, you are the one who kidnapped me. So what is you want from me?" She asked him.

She tilted her head to the side as she watched him. She could tell from the greedy look in his eyes that he wanted to toy with her. She hated being played with. She clenched her jaw but held her tongue so she wouldn't start yelling at him. That wouldn't get her any closer to getting out. She cleared her throat. "So what's your game plan here? Kidnap a random girl off the street and keep her locked up like this? Giving her a disgusting bed, feeding her disgusting food, and not even giving her some more clothes or a chance to shower?" She clicked her tongue in a disappointed tone.

"Now how is that supposed to win my sympathy and make me want to tell you all my deep dark secrets?" She asked him seriously. She shook her head and sighed. she tilted her head to the side as she watched him. She thought for a moment, her foot bouncing up and down. "Where do you think that leaves us, Mr. Fields?" She asked.


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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Winston Fields Character Portrait: Hazel Luden
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Winston smiled to himself in a way that seemed greatly condescending. "Oh, you are a quick girl," he remarked, looking over at her as he smirked, rubbing his chin where a very light stubble had begun to form. He gave his temple a light tap, the smirk twisting into an even more condescending grimace as he did so. He provided her with his full attention as she flopped on the bed, evoking a squeak of protest from the rusted springs and frame.

"What do I want from you?" he repeated softly to himself, as if pondering the words, while he unbuttoned his jacket to sit down in a rigid plastic chair which he pulled close to the bed. There was little room between them now, and the way he leaned forward gave them the appearance of a therapist and his patient. Winston's brow had furrowed in a look of concern for her, but he once more laughed as she clucked her tongue at him like a disapproving parent.

"I can't imagine your life is much better than this as a...what is it called? Maniac?" He looked down at his hands for a moment, clasped before him in his lap. "What do I want from you? I want nothing in particular, love. Really, the question is 'what do I want to do for you?'" He looked up at her now, hoping to meet her gaze. His eyes looked pained, and he gave her a look of pity.

"I can liberate you," he said softly, in a fatherly manner. "I want to liberate you. What sort of life is the one you lead? You must have had a life before this, and I imagine it didn't involve creating such utter chaos. You are not helping New York, my dear. He scooted the chair a bit closer so that it leaned against the bed, placing him next to her without actually sitting on the bed beside her.

"Say the word, and I can give you what you want," he said, smiling now in a friendly, caring manner. "We can help each other, you see? It doesn't have to be one against the other."