Post by Exigent Contact on Jul 22, 2009 17:27:48 GMT -5
Name :Adam Adiana Windham, M.D.
Alias : Doc, Adam Headcase, Doctor, Mr. Chairman and various other names.
Gender : Male
Age : 28, born June 23rd 1981
Sexuality :Undisclosed
Religion : Atheist, brought up in a Catholic environment
Hometown : Hoping Well, Pennsylvania
Current Residence : Rosewood Condominium
Occupation : Medical Doctor, Chairman of the medical board in the Rosewood Asylum.
Height : 6'1''
Weight : 172 pounds
Body Type : Slim, but toned in muscle definition from years of healthy living.
Skin : Pale, but tans easily.
Eyes : A light green that gains an almost catlike glare in the dark.
Hair : Black, longer than the average male's, but kept trimmed for a professional look.
Physical Description : When in sight with the rest of the medical board, he is quite literally a giant, and almost obscenely skinny and healthy to their ugly paunches and scowls. A square-jawed and handsome young male already, the ugliness of the world around him has marked him an Adonis rather than just another handsome young male.
Personality : He is known for his dry wit and gaining a wry laugh out of the of the board around him. In a professional environment, he cares for the patient more times than he cares for the establishment, and is often willing to break rules to save lives. He is also notorious for his temper, which before his ascension to chairman had made him a pariah in the medical staff. After his rise, however, it was seen as something to never dare cross.
In the rare moment he can be in a casual environment, he lets his humor take over, preferring to talk about various subjects with a tongue-in-cheek style with little in the way of his air of anger from his professional life. In this way, his personality is split into a deep contrast, with his black humor being the in the middle of his mental Venn Diagram.
Likes : Old school rock, from the 50s to the 80s. He loves to eat various fruits and vegetables, and his fridge with almost always stocked with fish. Loves movies from the 40s, 50s and 60s, his favorite being Casablanca. In his free time on the job he can be seen reading various literature, particularly philosophy. He also has particular affinity for his patients that goes beyond his reach as professional. Often times, he can be seen reading to patients who have been lobotomized or otherwise severely traumatized, educating those who have the drive to learn and playing sports in the gym room with the patients( of which he is making a strong push to become the coach).
Dislikes : The rest of the medical board(and its call for cheaper, more brutal medical practices), his parents, cell phones
Fears :Failure and rejection. The concept of financial instability also discomforts him.
Family : Richard Derry Windham(father), Johanna Rosaleen Windham(formerly Conner, mother) and Terry Joseph Windham(brother)
History :His father, Richard Derry Windham was a lifeless lout who sat in front of the TV all day while his family swam neck deep in debt, never once telling his son " I love you," or "Do well, son." He sat there, beer in hand, gaining pound after pound, barely getting up to do anything. The final major movement Richard remembered him making was a stark contrast to his life, a race against death to safety, to 911, to whatever he was after, but his heart goin' a thump...thumpthumpthump! left him dead in under three minutes, and then he was as still as he had been in all the years before.
His mother, Johanna Rosaleen Windham, formerly of the Conner lineage, was mopey, angry, loving, hating, tearful, jolly, jealous, selfless and selfish all at once. At the start of their marriage, she had shown an incredible aptitude at running the show, and managing everything, so Richard let her take the duties of life. When Terry, her firstborn had come into the world, she was overjoyed. She had a good career going as a banker; she could pay the bills, feed her kid and pay for her dear husband's various vices, such as drinking and gambling. However, when she became pregnant the second time, she found she had little money left. Dear Richard's gambling habits had finally struck out on him, and the house cleared them of all their cash. Jo was by no means a weak woman, however, and pushed harder. It was that push that brought Adam into the world, and that was when she found she could no longer be happy.
Adam was her father. The same bright, terrifying eyes, the same handsome smile, and eventually the same humor and slyness. She hated her father, and took it out on him. He deserved it, being the reincarnation, no the spawn of that rapist, that demon, that molester who hurt her, her three sisters and mother. She taught him the Bible, and he rejected it, like all demons do. She taught him how to live life and he became a thieving doctor, not a priest as she wished. She died twenty-two years into Adam's life, and held the same vitriol for him, and the same love for Terry, who was oddly enough, a lifeless lout who gambled and drank.
At twenty-four, with one of the quickest recoveries over one's death he himself had ever known(he told himself in a joking manner), he continued his life forward and free. An old professor of his, who had since retired and began work at the Rosewood Asylum, offered him an irresistible offer: a high paying job at a prestigious ground with plenty of room for raises. With his life in Pennsylvania concluded, he found it easy to venture over to the west coast based Rosewood Asylum. Then his former professor died, and left him at the helm of the medical board, against the most corrupt bastards he had ever known.
And Adam was loving every second of it.
Strengths :Fit, healthy and intelligent, with his last I.Q. test putting him in the 145-165 range.
Weaknesses :Fears failure to a perplexedly self-sabotaging degree. Has semi-regular migraines. Lacks empathy for those that are more successful or similarly successful to him, no matter their situation. His anger can cloud his judgment and tactical assessment of situations.
Extra Information : Has taught himself a variety of skills, including the piano and marksmanship.
Reference Picture(s) :
Sample Post :
The bullets hit the hardwood table's gloss with an effect that reminded Windham of rain pelting a tin roof. The stuffy boardroom was otherwise silent, its gray walls whispering nothing but the hum of the AC. When he counted fourteen, he smirked that devil's smirk, that one that got her mother all riled up. His eyes pierced the decidedly geriatric faces to his sides and in front of him. Their eyes all regarded him stonily, their reflections casting their disdain doubly so. Not one feared the firearm. It was the fifth one he had presented in a month, and would not be the last.
"This one, gentlemen, is rather simple compared to the fancy stuff you've offered in the past. It's a Glock 19, a downsized 17, with a fifteen round clip. Now, I'm sure you've all graduated Kindergarten some time ago, but just to shake those cobwebs out of your batty old brains, there are fourteen-count 'em-fourteen bullets on this table. Earlier this morning, in my roundabout jog of this facility, someone tried to take my life with this thing. Kinda funny, though, that hitman was. You see, once I disarmed the fat fuck, he was begging me not to hurt him. Gentlemen, that's pathetic. So I kicked the shit out of him anyway, and I'm sure you got the message on your phones that he was out. I typed it myself, after all."
Their gazes had not shifted, but their faces, sinewy and flabby, had pursed at the lips. It was outrage, incognito style, and it was just waiting for Doctor Windham to turn his back, so it could stab him over and over and over and over-
The gun was quickly disassembled by Windham and flung across the table. It stopped mere inches short of Flannery King, the wrinkled prue who had likely pulled the strings for today's operation.
"I'll tell you what, Mrs. King. Your husband has no spine whatsoever. I met him at that ball of yours two years ago. We go to the same gym. He loves you to death. Wouldn't it just break his heart if he found out you porked a porker just to do one off on the youngest chairman this facility has had in over eighty years? Yeah, we know where the income is coming, not from you, but from his trust fund. His big, multi-billion dollar trust fund, and after he divorces you, I can downsize your pay so much you'll be wiping your ass with a pinecone," he said, laughing over the drone of the air conditioning.
"And I won't even have to fire you. The last bastion of your wealth would sit right here, to constantly remind you of how badly you fucked up, Mrs. King. I would sit here, using your pension as Post-It Notes, and would be there, you wrinkled cunt, poorer than a church mouse. At least you could savor the power from such an excellent view!"
His wild laugh broke their gazes. He knew too much. He covered all the grounds, because his old boss gave him all the keys and files. This was the final will of Doctor George Hess-fuck the rest of the board over. The board was called out for recess, and he laughed some more in his private office, reading small anecdotes of Sarte:
People who live in society have learned how to see themselves in mirrors as they appear to their friends. I have no friends. Is that why my flesh is so naked?
After his fifth battle with the board, he felt much the same way.
Alias : Doc, Adam Headcase, Doctor, Mr. Chairman and various other names.
Gender : Male
Age : 28, born June 23rd 1981
Sexuality :Undisclosed
Religion : Atheist, brought up in a Catholic environment
Hometown : Hoping Well, Pennsylvania
Current Residence : Rosewood Condominium
Occupation : Medical Doctor, Chairman of the medical board in the Rosewood Asylum.
Height : 6'1''
Weight : 172 pounds
Body Type : Slim, but toned in muscle definition from years of healthy living.
Skin : Pale, but tans easily.
Eyes : A light green that gains an almost catlike glare in the dark.
Hair : Black, longer than the average male's, but kept trimmed for a professional look.
Physical Description : When in sight with the rest of the medical board, he is quite literally a giant, and almost obscenely skinny and healthy to their ugly paunches and scowls. A square-jawed and handsome young male already, the ugliness of the world around him has marked him an Adonis rather than just another handsome young male.
Personality : He is known for his dry wit and gaining a wry laugh out of the of the board around him. In a professional environment, he cares for the patient more times than he cares for the establishment, and is often willing to break rules to save lives. He is also notorious for his temper, which before his ascension to chairman had made him a pariah in the medical staff. After his rise, however, it was seen as something to never dare cross.
In the rare moment he can be in a casual environment, he lets his humor take over, preferring to talk about various subjects with a tongue-in-cheek style with little in the way of his air of anger from his professional life. In this way, his personality is split into a deep contrast, with his black humor being the in the middle of his mental Venn Diagram.
Likes : Old school rock, from the 50s to the 80s. He loves to eat various fruits and vegetables, and his fridge with almost always stocked with fish. Loves movies from the 40s, 50s and 60s, his favorite being Casablanca. In his free time on the job he can be seen reading various literature, particularly philosophy. He also has particular affinity for his patients that goes beyond his reach as professional. Often times, he can be seen reading to patients who have been lobotomized or otherwise severely traumatized, educating those who have the drive to learn and playing sports in the gym room with the patients( of which he is making a strong push to become the coach).
Dislikes : The rest of the medical board(and its call for cheaper, more brutal medical practices), his parents, cell phones
Fears :Failure and rejection. The concept of financial instability also discomforts him.
Family : Richard Derry Windham(father), Johanna Rosaleen Windham(formerly Conner, mother) and Terry Joseph Windham(brother)
History :His father, Richard Derry Windham was a lifeless lout who sat in front of the TV all day while his family swam neck deep in debt, never once telling his son " I love you," or "Do well, son." He sat there, beer in hand, gaining pound after pound, barely getting up to do anything. The final major movement Richard remembered him making was a stark contrast to his life, a race against death to safety, to 911, to whatever he was after, but his heart goin' a thump...thumpthumpthump! left him dead in under three minutes, and then he was as still as he had been in all the years before.
His mother, Johanna Rosaleen Windham, formerly of the Conner lineage, was mopey, angry, loving, hating, tearful, jolly, jealous, selfless and selfish all at once. At the start of their marriage, she had shown an incredible aptitude at running the show, and managing everything, so Richard let her take the duties of life. When Terry, her firstborn had come into the world, she was overjoyed. She had a good career going as a banker; she could pay the bills, feed her kid and pay for her dear husband's various vices, such as drinking and gambling. However, when she became pregnant the second time, she found she had little money left. Dear Richard's gambling habits had finally struck out on him, and the house cleared them of all their cash. Jo was by no means a weak woman, however, and pushed harder. It was that push that brought Adam into the world, and that was when she found she could no longer be happy.
Adam was her father. The same bright, terrifying eyes, the same handsome smile, and eventually the same humor and slyness. She hated her father, and took it out on him. He deserved it, being the reincarnation, no the spawn of that rapist, that demon, that molester who hurt her, her three sisters and mother. She taught him the Bible, and he rejected it, like all demons do. She taught him how to live life and he became a thieving doctor, not a priest as she wished. She died twenty-two years into Adam's life, and held the same vitriol for him, and the same love for Terry, who was oddly enough, a lifeless lout who gambled and drank.
At twenty-four, with one of the quickest recoveries over one's death he himself had ever known(he told himself in a joking manner), he continued his life forward and free. An old professor of his, who had since retired and began work at the Rosewood Asylum, offered him an irresistible offer: a high paying job at a prestigious ground with plenty of room for raises. With his life in Pennsylvania concluded, he found it easy to venture over to the west coast based Rosewood Asylum. Then his former professor died, and left him at the helm of the medical board, against the most corrupt bastards he had ever known.
And Adam was loving every second of it.
Strengths :Fit, healthy and intelligent, with his last I.Q. test putting him in the 145-165 range.
Weaknesses :Fears failure to a perplexedly self-sabotaging degree. Has semi-regular migraines. Lacks empathy for those that are more successful or similarly successful to him, no matter their situation. His anger can cloud his judgment and tactical assessment of situations.
Extra Information : Has taught himself a variety of skills, including the piano and marksmanship.
Reference Picture(s) :
Sample Post :
The bullets hit the hardwood table's gloss with an effect that reminded Windham of rain pelting a tin roof. The stuffy boardroom was otherwise silent, its gray walls whispering nothing but the hum of the AC. When he counted fourteen, he smirked that devil's smirk, that one that got her mother all riled up. His eyes pierced the decidedly geriatric faces to his sides and in front of him. Their eyes all regarded him stonily, their reflections casting their disdain doubly so. Not one feared the firearm. It was the fifth one he had presented in a month, and would not be the last.
"This one, gentlemen, is rather simple compared to the fancy stuff you've offered in the past. It's a Glock 19, a downsized 17, with a fifteen round clip. Now, I'm sure you've all graduated Kindergarten some time ago, but just to shake those cobwebs out of your batty old brains, there are fourteen-count 'em-fourteen bullets on this table. Earlier this morning, in my roundabout jog of this facility, someone tried to take my life with this thing. Kinda funny, though, that hitman was. You see, once I disarmed the fat fuck, he was begging me not to hurt him. Gentlemen, that's pathetic. So I kicked the shit out of him anyway, and I'm sure you got the message on your phones that he was out. I typed it myself, after all."
Their gazes had not shifted, but their faces, sinewy and flabby, had pursed at the lips. It was outrage, incognito style, and it was just waiting for Doctor Windham to turn his back, so it could stab him over and over and over and over-
The gun was quickly disassembled by Windham and flung across the table. It stopped mere inches short of Flannery King, the wrinkled prue who had likely pulled the strings for today's operation.
"I'll tell you what, Mrs. King. Your husband has no spine whatsoever. I met him at that ball of yours two years ago. We go to the same gym. He loves you to death. Wouldn't it just break his heart if he found out you porked a porker just to do one off on the youngest chairman this facility has had in over eighty years? Yeah, we know where the income is coming, not from you, but from his trust fund. His big, multi-billion dollar trust fund, and after he divorces you, I can downsize your pay so much you'll be wiping your ass with a pinecone," he said, laughing over the drone of the air conditioning.
"And I won't even have to fire you. The last bastion of your wealth would sit right here, to constantly remind you of how badly you fucked up, Mrs. King. I would sit here, using your pension as Post-It Notes, and would be there, you wrinkled cunt, poorer than a church mouse. At least you could savor the power from such an excellent view!"
His wild laugh broke their gazes. He knew too much. He covered all the grounds, because his old boss gave him all the keys and files. This was the final will of Doctor George Hess-fuck the rest of the board over. The board was called out for recess, and he laughed some more in his private office, reading small anecdotes of Sarte:
People who live in society have learned how to see themselves in mirrors as they appear to their friends. I have no friends. Is that why my flesh is so naked?
After his fifth battle with the board, he felt much the same way.