bakerstreet | BROKEN MEME

BROKEN MEME

broken meme

You may once have been a great hero, or a modest regular person. But something has pushed you past the limit. There's simply no going back to who you used to be. To be seen now, your friends, your family, would they even recognize you? Your savior was too late. The pain was too much. The pleasure was too intense. You've been short-circuited.

You're broken.

A. Post with the usual stuff! Note somewhere if there are any options you aren't okay with.
B. People can reply, with a roll for their characters or ask if you want to roll for yours in that thread.
C. Probably some triggers involved here. Read at your own discretion, etc.

1. Pain.
You've been pushed beyond your limits and become light-headed, 'floaty'. The sight of your own blood doesn't provoke a reaction anymore, and seeing a friend might cause you to smile, or talk strangely. You might not even recognize them. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's alright now.

2. Lust.
No, no, no became yes, yes, yes. Dignity and self-respect have faded, replaced by an insatiable and alien feeling of want. You've reached a point where shame doesn't even occur to you anymore. Your eyes seem out of focus and your smile doesn't look right. Look, I've made so many friends who like me...! Do anything to me if it feels good.

3. Shock.
What has been seen cannot be unseen. A revelation about a friend, a loved one, an enemy- something has shocked you in a way you can never reverse. It may change not only the way you look at someone or something, but also the way you see the rest of your life. I saw nothing, I saw nothing, I saw...

4. Oppressed.
What's it like outside my cage? Your spirit of rebellion or confidence has been cracked, and your rescuers might not be there in time to salvage what's left of your spirits. You've long since accepted that getting away from this oppression is impossible- Perhaps you've even become attached to it as the only way to live life. Yes, sir. No, sir. Sorry, sir.

5. Corruption.
Something has eroded you. You're not like you used to be. You're obsessive, your face is darker. You may even see who you were before as weak or useless. Whether it's a magic ring or Phazon infecting your body, you're going grimdark and it's looking a little too late to pull you out of it. This power is far greater than what I had before! To think I used to believe in justice!

6. Hysteria.
When you talk, you don't make any sense. Pure Charisma Break. Maybe you were a god stripped of your might, or you've suffered a terrible defeat. Either way your ego has snapped, leaving you a total mess and unable to function. But how could this be? How could I lose?!

7. Desperation.
Where before you were airy, confident, in control of yourself, you're now a ragged and fuming pile of hopeless anger. As a fighter you may have been careful or even graceful; now you swing wildly, strike without precision. You simply cannot accept the situation, cannot accept your own fall. It's not over! I'm still in control! I can still fix everything!

taken from here.

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Angel was no more than a pile of badly cleaned dust on Lindsey's bed, and Lindsey was still coated in vampire blood up to his elbows. And as he started to methodologically clean himself up, the gravity of what he had done started weighing on him.

He turned inwards, going quieter and quieter until by the end of the half hour of cleanup, he was completely silent.

Then the sudden ringing of the doorbell nearly had him nearly jumping out of his skin.

"Lindsey, you fool, I know you're in there."

"Lilah." Lindsey breathed out when he placed the voice. Turning, he stopped all of a sudden when he found Dean still there. He thought the demon had left already. "I can't let her take me back."

There was something fascinating about watching somebody not just kill, but cut into someone for the first time. Dean had provided the victim and all the fun tools, play he got to sit back and watch the fun.

Once Lindsey was done Dean even got to watch the gravity of what the man had just done settle over him. He wanted to stay and poke the guy, do a post-torture interview but he got bored waiting and went into the other room to watch TV.

And then the doorbell rang.

He looked up at Lindsey when he came in, cocking his head slightly. "Why?"

"Why?" Lindsey gave Dean a look that questioned the demon's sanity, then realizing he was looking at a demon who obviously had none to speak of, he turned away with a disgusted look.

"What do you think they'll do to me if they find out I dusted their precious souled vampire?" His fist still clenched at the remembered speech Reed gave him, that he was expendable and Angel was not.

The pounding on his door grew more insistent and Lindsey shot a concerned look that way.

"I have to run."

"Huh..." Dean watched the lawyer thoughtfully and then shrugged. "Well...guess you shouldn't have done that, huh?"

He got off the couch, slowly approaching the man as he heard the noise at the door getting louder and louder. "Where are you gonna go Mr McDonald?"

"Yeah, too late for regrets now." Wasn't that the truth, except he didn't regret killing Angel. He just regretted how he had been taken by the moment of triumph and did a piss poor job at plotting it out.

"I don't know, but away from here is a start." He looked around the apartment and it was disheartening to realize that there was nothing he wished to take with him. The only thing that he did... it was useless to if he only had one working hand.

He went to gather some on hand cash, then stopped to glance over at the demon. "Can you help me?"

Dean considered his answer for a moment before shrugging. "I mean I guess. Where do you wanna go? Australia? China? The north pole?". He chucked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I get the feeling these guys have contacts all over the world, if they want you chances are they're gonna find you Lindsey."

"I know that!" Lindsey snapped from the pressure, then frowned as he took a deep breath. "But that doesn't mean they'll get me so quickly. I know things, they wouldn't catch me so soon."

Except who was he kidding. He wasn't prepared for this. If given a week to prepare, even a few days perhaps, he could gather his sources and make going on the run easier, but right now, with nothing but the clothes on his back and the facts in his mind, it was going to be tough.

He swallowed when there was loud rumbling outside his door. As he thought, Lilah hadn't come alone.

"I don't care, Dean." He stuffed the wallet full of cash into his pants pocket. "Just take me somewhere that doesn't have Wolfram and Hart."

"Hey!". Dean snapped back. "No yelling! I didn't make you kill him, this is your own damn falt!"

Though watching the usually so unfazed and well put together human squirm was kind of fun. "Ok...fine I'll help. You got a gun? I mean I know you're a lawyer but...with who your employers on I gotta assume you have a gun, right?"

Lindsey stared back at the demon for a second, then he finally nodded and retreated to the bedroom where he returned with a revolver.

"If you say we fight our way out..." Lindsey grimaced when the pounding got louder. The reinforced steel bolt still held, but he wondered how long it would take before they decided to break down the wall around it rather than come through the front door.

"What are you planning?" He handed the gun over.

Dean held his hands up, not touching the gun. "Oh no no no, I can't be directly involved. Ok, here's what you're gonna do.". He leaned in close, like he was telling the other man a secret. "Put that thing to your head and pull the trigger, understand?"

Lindsey just stared. "You're joking, right?"

But some of what Dean said earlier filtered through and his shoulders sagged in somber resignation. He killed the golden boy of prophecy and the only place where he could hide from them was in Hell proper.

Perhaps some of that regret was finally hitting him.

"What about my contract with them? If I died... can you keep them from getting me?" He didn't want to find out what Wolfram and Hart would do to him for eternity if they got their hands on him.

"Oh sure. I whine to brother, my brother makes his scary face and they'll back off. Maybe promise a spell to resurrect angel...promise a century of torture for you. They won't get you.". He grinned at the man holding the gun, "though I can't promise hell won't be worse."

The gun went slack in Lindsey's hand as he turned a glare onto the demon. "Resurrect Angel? You're not resurrecting the damn vampire!" He waved the gun at Dean in agitation. "If I'm going to die, I refuse to do it for nothing!" He hadn't even gotten to the torture for a century thing yet. "Can you or can you not help me?"

Dean didn't even bat an eyelash at the gun, not like it could hurt him anyway. No he just calmly watch the lawyer throw his little tantrum. "They probably have the means to ressurect angel and if they want him bad enough that's exactly what they'll do. You want to get away from wolfram and hart? Pull the trigger."

The gun waved again, and just then the front door creaked dangerously. "Fuck!" He looked from Dean to the door, then down at the gun in his hand. Of course they did, they resurrected Darla... Lindsey seemed to collapse into himself as he staggered and leaned against the wall.

The door groaned and the reinforced wood was starting to splinter. In the background, Lilah's voice was raised in shrill command.

"Don't let them resurrect Angel." He raised the gun and placed the cold muzzle under his chin. "If I'm going down for this... I want that hypocrite vamp to stay dead."

"Can't promise that big guy...but think of it this way...he died suffering at your hands. And if they bother to bring him back? They'll shove him in a dark cage to rot. He'll suffer, don't worry. You will too...see you on the other side mister McDonald.". He smiled and waved goodbye.

"Fuck..." As the door splintered and broke down completely and the roar of monstrous demons came barging into the room, Lindsey closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

Lilah said something afterwards, but Lindsey didn't hear her.

Everything was drowned out by the large bang then the absolute silence.

Didn't matter if you're an acquaintance of the prince of hell, when you get there you gotta go through the same shit as everyone else. Lindsey was put on the rack with the rest of the damned souls, cut and sliced and burned and disemboweled over and over again by disgusting looking monsters.

Things went on like that for a week. A demon was in the process of slicing off Lindsey's other hand when Dean walked up, looking as pretty as ever. He tapped the twisted creature on the shoulder and nodded for him to get lost. He slowly approached the lawyer, wrinkling his nose at how gross he looked.

With the snap of his fingers Lindsey's body returned to normal, still with only one hand though. "Thats better. So how ya holding up?"

Not well was an understatement as Lindsey was crying just moments before. He didn't fare well under torture at all, he was a lawyer, not a fighter, and he wasn't made as stern as he wanted to be.

By the time he realized that he actually had lungs again, he was gasping in great breaths of air as tears ran down his cheeks. He spent a moment sobbing before he looked up at found Dean standing there.

This demon... Dean. He knew him. Still, he couldn't help cringing a little at his approach.

"Get me out of here," he begged, surprised that his voice wasn't hoarse anymore, or that he had a voice and tongue at all.

Dean nodded slowly, face not quite sympathetic, but understanding. Dean would never mock a man under this torture, he'd been through it himself. "I'm working on it. How are my boys treating you?". He looked him over, able to read what had been done to him even when scars were no longer visible. "Alright, just the basics...nothing too horrendous. I told them to take it a little easy on you."

Lindsey's eyes widened in sudden panic when Dean informed him that that was just the basics. He had been here... he didn't even know how long he had been here already.

"No! You have to get me out of here!" He shouted, trying to fight against the bonds he was kept in. He cried out when the meat hooks that chained him to the rack stretched and tore at muscles when he moved.

He sobbed from the pain, going still again to prevent more of it. "No more of this..."

"Hey! Relax!". Dean snapped, trying to get him to still because it was making it worse. He gripped Lindsey by the hair and yanked hard to get him to focus. "They replace your teeth with shards of glass yet? They put the flesh eating bugs under your skin? They fuck you to death with a railroad spike? Has your family paraded put to rape and mock you?". Dean groaned, feeling disgusted with how freaked out he was. "It's been barely over a week Lindsey! I did thirty fuckibg years!"

Lindsey gasped when his hair was yanked and his eyes opened wide from pain and surprise as he stared up unseeing at the demon. He seemed to recoil with each of Dean's words, shrinking back slightly like they were physical blows.

He wasn't a hunter like Dean had been but he was able to get angry at the treatment. What he lacked earlier, as Dean noticed, was focus, and the demon just provided it. "Don't give me that! You want to tell me in your thirty years didn't wish for this to stop?" He glared up at the black eyed creature. "That's bullshit!"

"I didn't say I never wished for it to stop." He dropped his grip on the other man and started to turn away. "I just called you a pussy for breaking in less than a week. They asked me every day if I would give in and start torturing people...gave me thirty years to break. My father did 100 years and never cracked."

He shook his head, trying to resist the urge to start cutting into the other man himself. "Most people spend at least a year before they even get offered a deal to get off the rack."

Lindsey's anger raised with each of Dean's words. Out of all of that, he only heard what a disappointment he was. Maybe it was only self reflection, but Lindsey snarled at the rejection.

"Then sorry for being such a weak soul! Guess you should have spent your time luring a more useful one who'll give you more bang for your buck! And I appologize for actually wanting to work for you instead of languishing in your oh so basic torture!"

Let's say we start with 7, Desperation.

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