bakerstreet | Hey, can you tell me what year it is?

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[meme] prompts

Hey, can you tell me what year it is?

Ah, amnesia. The old standby for soap operas, it usually involves a good knock on the head and a complete loss of memory. Ever wanted to do that to your character? Well, now's your chance.

1. Comment with your characters!
2. Others comment. Optionally, go to RNG and roll the scenario. (As to who gets knocked on the head, well, that's up to you!)
3. ???
4. PROFIT.

1. HEAD-ON COLLISION - ...whoops. It was an honest mistake, really! You didn't see that car/tree/post/person/whatever coming, but now you're stumbling out of the wreckage sans memory. Better ask for help.

2. WAIT, WHO ARE YOU? - Okay, so a while ago, you got into...something that caused you to lose your memory. Fortunately, you managed to get by and create a new identity for yourself. Unfortunately, someone new has just entered your life. Or should I say, someone who's a little too familiar...

3. RINSE AND REPEAT - Sigh. Really, this is just so inconvenient. You wake up everyday with no memory of who you are, and have to figure it out over the course of the day, only to fall asleep and have to do it all over again the next day. Good thing someone's there to help you out, right? And what's with all those post-its and notes?

4. THIS ROOM'S TOO WHITE - Welcome to the hospital. You've got an "Unknown" tag on your wrist, a healthy diet of bland hospital food, a steady trickle of doctors coming in to check up on you, and a TV, and nothing else. Looks like someone's coming to help you today, though! Here's to hoping they knew you before you lost your memory.

5. I'M SUPPOSED TO DO WHAT?! - Oh, crap. There's something only you can do right now--that is, the you who didn't lose your memory, anyway. Better figure out a way out of this mess and how to control your strange abilities before it's too late.

6. FIGHTING FOR THE WRONG SIDE - Uh, oh. Looks like your enemies decided to take advantage of your confused state and convinced you that you're on their side. Here's to hoping your allies can get you back to yourself before you cause some serious damage.

7. JUST TOO TRAUMATIC - You just saw something that's so traumatic you lost your memory because of it. Unfortunately, right now, you have to remember it, or else something really bad happens. Hope you don't regret remembering this!

8. I DON'T WANT THIS - You've been living a peaceful, ordinary life, for a while. And you'd rather it stay that way, because you're not sure if you'd want to remember what went before. Unfortunately, something's coming, and the key to stopping it lies in your memories.

9. NO SUCH THING - Maybe you were a wizard, or a werewolf, or an angel, or a demon, or something else entirely before, or maybe you just knew about the masquerade. Sadly, you've been knocked on the head and now believe yourself to be a perfectly ordinary person. Magic? That doesn't exist, right? Anything can be explained with science, after all! Right?

10. I'M WHO?! - And who the hell are you? Basically, this is the wild card option! Combine one of the above or make up a new one or whatever you want! Go wild!

Credit:

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Midnighter is naked and bald, covered in blood and poison, all sizzling and bubbling on his skin. His expression is dull-eyed and impassive, with none of the curious spark or pride in the kill. He's angry in a deep down way, broiling below the surface. He doesn't care. Pain is bullshit. Everything is bullshit.

"Fuck off," he says, casting any attempt at aid aside. "It'll heal."

He reaches down to grab the shock collar, pulling it off and crumbling it in his hands. "You said you knew a way out? Feel like sharing?"

Nyx hesitates, startled by the pang of hurt in his chest and trying to ignore it. Should've figured, though- Midnighter hadn't wanted him patching him up after the festival, why would he let Nyx do it now, when he can't even recognize his damn face?

"Bottom floor has an emergency exit, leads out into some caverns." He'd done some research prior to breaking in, and the emergency evacuation manuals he'd flipped through on his way in had only confirmed his findings. "Tunnels lead into the lake and open up a few miles out, near the city limit."

The corridors behind the lounge area are made up of some entirely unremarkable looking offices. Motivational calendars and inoffensive art hang on the walls, and there's no indication of where that mutant monster had appeared from. Meanwhile, Nyx finds himself stewing, thoughts lingering on the look on Midnighter- fuck, Lucas, that's this guy's name now, his face, the rage and utter disregard for himself. Maybe it doesn't matter that he's naked, covered in burns and blood and worse. Maybe Midnighter is too fucking strong to be bothered with Nyx's petty human concerns or foibles.

But...

"You gonna snap at me again if I give you something to wear?"

Lucas doesn't know how to do anything but fight. "You gotta problem with naked guys, or are your feelings just hurt that easy?"

He doesn't care of this guy leaves or dies. He just wishes he'd stop looking at him with those fucking eyes, open and expectant, the way people always do. Everyone always wants him to do something, whatever normal people do in whatever situation he's in. He isn't that. He's a monster that only one person is capable of loving. That's enough for him (he reminds himself daily); why can't it be enough for everybody else?

He keeps moving.

So there's his answer then. And that's... fine. Nyx just snorts, turning it into a joke.

"Yeah, let's call it some of both. I'm a delicate flower. Easily distracted by naked guys."

There's a big room past the offices, and it takes a moment of searching to find the entrance, big locked double doors that don't respond to the key card, so Nyx starts burning through those too, not bothering to ask Lucas to watch his back as he works. The alarms have stopped, and all that's left is the sound of their footsteps and an eerie ringing silence.

The flames carve a scorched line through solid metal, and Nyx kicks open the door to reveal-- gray, a gray concrete floor, covered in old spatters, dim lights hanging on bare bulbs, cages upon empty cages lining the sides of the enormous room.

Looks like an arena. With some not-so-empty cages mixed in there too, if the slow snarls echoing off the walls are any indication.

"Then you should get out of this business."

Only minutes later does Lucas realize-- was that flirtation? Should he be offended or flattered? And what about Apollo, and... it's all too much, the world of humanity, so complex beyond his imagining. He'll never understand it. He lets his curiosity slip away, feeling only the slightest pang of regret. He'd wanted to be a person, once. He understands it's impossible, now. The closest he can get is pretending to be Lucas Trent, and that will have to be enough. Is enough.

The cages send him into a rage. Lucas doesn't explain himself, doesn't relent, doesn't give warning. He just rushes forward, reaching through the bars. The animals in question, some sort of mutant dog, hisses and spits, getting poison everywhere. Lucas feels the pain, ignores it. He grabs for the collar on its neck, ripping it off.

The dog immediately becomes docile, slumping in its cage, whining plaintively. Lucas looks the collar over, unable to see that the technology on it looks a fair deal like the thing plugged into the back of his neck.

Guess Lucas Trent also doesn't have Midnighter's sense of sarcasm. Nyx snorts, trying (not particularly hard) to mask the tinge of bitterness.

"Yeah, not like you even remember what kind of business I'm in."

He grabs for his kukris as M- fuck, Lucas lunges for the dog thing in a cage, expecting a shriek and a spray of blood, but-- no, Lucas frees the beast and lets it go, examining the black metal band of the torn collar.

Nyx swallows hard. Maybe there is still some semblance of the man he thought he knew in there. The Midnighter who went around fighting and saving people just because he could, just because he thought he ought to, their shared dream of protecting the future.

"What the fuck is it? Is that what they used on y- everything here?"

A large cat with too many legs and a whipping scorpion tail screams from another nearby cage, even as a series of clacks followed by the screech of metal herald the opening of cages throughout the room.

"Guess so." Midnighter's voice is flat, hollow. He rips open the cage, and the dog creature runs away, tail between its legs.

Only when the cat breaks loose does Midnighter grin, sharp and hungry for a fight, for action. He speaks directly to the creature. "I was gonna let you go," he says, opening his arms. "But I guess you wanna die instead."

He lunges forward, collar forgotten on the ground. Each step leaves a footprint of blood and ash.

But not before Nyx warps right in front of him, tackling the cat out of Midnighter's reach and straight into the nearest wall, slicing through the collar in one swift move. The beast slashes at him with raking claws that glances off of his armor, opening up a shallow line on his cheek as he rolls off of it, and then immediately turns tail and runs.

But it's just the one-- and behind them, more mutated creatures are crawling out of the woodwork. A gaggle of large lizard-looking things, looking like half a cross between a worm and a dinosaur, snap at Midnighter while an agile monkey with eight eyes and just as many limbs darts toward his head, intending to tear and rip with sharp nails and pincer-like jaws.

"Ruining my fucking fun," Lucas says, turning toward a creature with the wrong number of heads, all hissing and serpentine. "You're a buzzkill, Artemis."

But that doesn't mean he can't strangle the hydra in here. It whips around him, surging forward, and Lucas lets corrosive scales dig into his skin. It feels right, somehow. He's nothing, less than human, a toy in the hands of shithead scientists everywhere. The computer screams and screeches warnings, and Midnighter lets it, enjoying whenever he can get some petty revenge on the thing that keeps him from truly being close to Apollo. But then, as the hydra tries to strangle Lucas to death, he surges his hands forward, ripping out ribs straight through the skin.

You cut off the head, he remembers Andrew telling him, and more will just grow back. But the myths never said anything about ripping out its spine.

"Artemis?"

A little startled, not sure where this particular nickname is coming from. His blades shred through scales and fur, it's not hard when it's only animals, stumbling and slavering, unused to their own ferocity; he cuts off the collars when he can, even knowing sentimentality doesn't win fights. But all this means he can keep an eye on Lucas, who looks seemingly unconcerned as he tears a giant snake-thing right open like a bag of chips.

One of the hydra heads, severed but still twitching, locks its jaws around the mess of black machinery and cables at the back of Midnighter's head.

Lucas keeps forgetting it's there, is the thing. The computer doesn't acknowledge it, and he can barely feel it, and then-- a long fang slices through it, and Lucas seizes, twitching in a pile of blood and viscera. The hydra falls back, limp and bleeding out, while Lucas has a very inconvenient seizure.

"Shit!"

Forget going easy-- Nyx throws himself headlong into the fray. In the space of a couple breaths, all of the mutant creatures are frozen solid or lying in twitching pieces on the floor, and Nyx is kneeling next to Midnighter, an arm beneath his head and the other gingerly brushing his cheek, all thoughts of new names and bad memories and instinctive rejection gone clear out of his mind.

"Midnighter? Fuck, stay with me, M."

Midnighter opens his eyes. He's two people, too many people, all fake, all masks and lies and blood and fear. The computer is having an interface meltdown. Midnighter wants to hide his face until it's all over.

"Take it out," he gasps, looking up at Nyx. It's a vulnerability, but it's Nyx. He can show that to Nyx, right? "Nyx, take it out, it's turning me back, I don't wanna be him anymore." It's plaintive, begging, before his eyes roll back in his head and his body begins to thrash again.

There he is. The man Nyx l-- the one he was looking for all along, terrified and desperate in a way that makes his heart clench up.

"Midnighter, I-" What had Lucas said? That he'd seizure and black out, wake up plugged right back into the damn machine. Long enough for the fuckers in this facility to tinker with him and put him back in his cage. Nyx would like nothing more than to rip the fucking thing right out of Midnighter, but he's not strong enough to carry the man the rest of the way out, two floors down, and he can just barely drag him, fighting and protecting him the whole way.

"I don't- I can't let you get captured again." If nothing else, Nyx won't let that happen. Nothing else matters. He grits his teeth, hating himself in this moment. "I can't... I'm not strong enough."

And suddenly this asshole is crouching over him. Lucas pushes him away with no respect for his own strength, using too much, probably, and really not caring. "Back off, Artemis."

He stands up, walking away, sluicing some of the blood and melted skin off his arms and sides. "Looks like you packed a punch. Let's get out of here."

Nyx gets knocked back on his ass, startled as he looks back up at Midnighter. Or no, it's Lucas again. He swallows hard, glad to have the other man's back facing him, if only so he doesn't see the expression on Nyx's face.

As soon as the two of them are out, he's gonna rip the cords right out of that thing, tear it to shreds. Get Midnighter- the real Midnigher back. Not this... fake shadow of him with a half assed name. But in the meantime. Nyx casts around for something, anything to say as he follows Lucas into the next room.

"So, why Artemis?"

Lucas finds a locked door, and rips it clean off its handles. He uses it to decapitate a dying killer ferret before tossing it aside. The blood sprays his legs and feet, sizzling and bubbling once more. The pain tells him he's alive, and that's got to be something. "It's mythology. Figured you'd read up on that crap when you were making up your fake as shit name."

"My fake as shit name," Nyx repeats after him, voice flat, feeling the sizzle of the blood through his boots. "Of all the fucking things that could've crawled up your ass and died, it's my name? Don't know what to tell you, buddy, 'cause I didn't pick it."

Another long hallway full of white rooms, this time laboratories full of shining glass and metal, enormous incubation chambers with row after row of petri dishes set in careful alignment.

He turns quickly, grabbing Nyx's wrist. He's a fighter that relies on finesse and speed; Lucas has seen it. In a moment of inexplicable mercy, he doesn't break the man's wrist, just gives it enough pressure, pressed up to the wall, to sprain and bruise. He can still fight, if he's not a total fucking baby about it.

"You got a problem with me? You can fucking leave. I didn't ask for your help. This is who I am." He lets go of Nyx's wrist and turns away, walking back down the hall. "All I am." If Nyx hears regret in his voice, well, he can get fucked.

"No it's not," Nyx snaps back, and they're back to the not smart, not wise school of decision making, but he doens't give a fuck. His wrist throbs-- Lucas had definitely sprained it, but Nyx doesn't give a shit about that either.

It makes him sick, hearing Midnighter talk like that about himself.

"And you did ask for my help. Why the fuck do you think I'm here? 'Cause busting up some shitty laboratory full of assholes is my idea of a day off?"

That gets another snarl from Lucas, expression caught in a feral whirl. His voice is on the edge of anger, teeth bared. "I don't remember that." It's a threat, or a warning.

"Yeah, somehow I figured out that much."

Nyx has to bite back further sarcasm, sucking in a deep breath. It's not Midnighter's fault. None of this is, and Nyx knows that. It's just... he figures that it probably means something, that the memories of him were some of the first to go.

Shouldn't that be a relief? Shouldn't it be something Nyx already knew in his heart?

"...Don't worry about it. We'll get you out. Nothing else matters."

"Fuck you." The anger in Lucas' eyes is tinged with something dangerously close to grief. He squares his shoulders, clenches his fist, makes every step a stomping motion, trying desperately to radiate confidence and strength. "Why the fuck do you care so much?"

But it's more tentative than he means. More shit he doesn't remember. Does he even want to know?

Nyx looks up to meet his gaze, and his eyes are just... tired, weariness in every line of his face, in the crooked curve of his smile.

"Does it really matter?"

Exhale, and he turns away, rotating his wrist to test its range of movement.

"Here's the only thing you need to know, and it probably won't mean shit to you. But I won't betray you. That's it. Now let's get a move on."

"Stop it with this shit," Lucas hisses, his temper rising again. He hates this little man with his ferret face, not giving answers and looking at him with these fucking expectant eyes. "I asked. I deserve a fucking answer."

That's what Andrew said. It's okay to ask for things. It's okay to deserve things. Good things. He already knows he deserves a lot of bad.

"Betrayal? Shit. That's different to everybody. Here's what I know." Because this 'Nyx' bastard probably thinks he's some ignorant idiot. "You want me out of this facility. You know the bullshit designation Bendix gave me when he cut open my fucking head. You know what that sounds like to me? You're trying to sell me back to him. Probably think it's not betrayal, the monster belongs back with its maker. And you know what? And I'm gonna let you do it. Go ahead, sell me. I want the opportunity to twist off Bendix's fucking head. And then I'll come for you."

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