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:

jading

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"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."

Expression set and blank, Nyx glances back at Lucas.

"Fine. You called me, about a week and a half, two weeks ago. I came, like I said I would. And I've been trying to track you down ever since. That's what happened, even if you don't remember."

As for the rest of it, all that stuff about Bendix and getting his head cut open and being sold, Nyx also has a feeling that maybe... maybe he wasn't supposed to know this. Midnighter had always talked freely about his past, about what he is, hell, had given Nyx the rundown on it after their first fucking night together. But this is all new information, private, none of his damn business.

Doesn't stop him from opening his big mouth though.

"...And you're not a monster. I don't know a damn thing about the rest." And I don't give a shit, he almost says, but that seems too dismissive, almost, too selfish. None of that matters to Lucas.

Lucas, the man using a name he made up in a gas station during a thunderstorm, hunched next to a trashcan and counting cigarette butts in a mud puddle, has an endless capacity to believe in the fault of his memories. He stills, and the break in his composure shows. The doubt is there. For the first time, he feels the slightest embarrassment in his nakedness.

His voice isn't hushed, but it's certainly closer to it than it was moments ago. "What do you know about me?"

You can pick me up like it's nothing. You've got a fantastic ass. You'd never been to a museum before, never danced, never gone to a festival, and you like trying new things. You give the best damn blowjob on this side of Eos. Maybe in the world. Worlds. You fight for other people, even when you don't have to. You want me to stay in the mornings.

You said you loved me.

"Uh, you were kidnapped when you were a kid, something about making a super soldier, but you're not a soldier now. You're strong," Nyx lets out a little huff of amusement, as if recalling a warm memory, "Hell of a lot stronger than me. You don't eat, sleep, or drink much. You heal from shit that would put me out of commission for weeks. Computer brain. You don't dance or sleep on beds, I don't know why."

That's the basic rundown, he thinks. Maybe Nyx should mention the Doors? Although if Lucas was able to use those, he'd be long gone and escaped from this shithole.

"All that sound about right? It's all stuff you told me so if you were lying out of your ass, I guess this is when I find out about it."

Lucas swallows, and the expression on his face grows more and more worried. Doubtful. "I don't remember you." Why would he tell this man all of these things if he wasn't important? Why wouldn't he remember him? It's... it's got to be these fucking scientists. It doesn't make sense. Lucas doesn't understand.

"I don't sleep on beds because I was homeless," he says, and there's something new in his voice: shame. "And I was homeless because I don't remember... a lot from before. Before I was kidnapped." Anything. But he hasn't even told Apollo that. "I dunno why, I-" Why I'd call you and not Apollo. But, no, he can think of a few reasons, and considering any of those feels like the end of the world. He doesn't want to talk about it.

"Whoever you are-- fuckers here must've wiped you." He reaches up to the back of his head, fingering a lose wire sticking out of his skull. "Might've been on purpose, if I called you. Fuck. I've been playing into their hand this whole fucking time."

Anger is safer than vulnerability. He punches a wall, and his fist goes right through it.

Nyx's turn to still, exhaling a shaky breath. He'd never even considered it, that he might have been taken away from Midnighter on purpose. One more item on the long, long list of things that had been snatched away from him. Fury courses through him, forms a tight, vicious knot in his chest but he shoves it aside as soon as he catches sight of the lost expression on Lucas' face.

Nyx is no fucking good at this-- soothing, offering reassurance, but he reaches out all the same, intending to set a ginger hand on Lucas' arm.

"Hey, easy. Come on, we'll figure it out. But first we gotta get you out of here." They'd been on B6 for too long already, and Nyx is beginning to get a paranoid itch between this shoulder blade. It's been too quiet, too long between attacks.

Lucas looks down at the hand on his shoulder. The fuck does that mean? Apollo is the only one who's ever done that to him, and-- is Apollo dead? Was he made to forget that, too? Or did they... Lucas would never leave Andrew, but Andrew can do better, they both know it. Andrew's never punched a microwave, or had a panic attack from a power tool commercial. Andrew isn't a fucking freak.

Lucas doesn't want to think about that right now. The hand on his shoulder is calming, despite it all. The advice is better. "Yeah," he says. "Let's get the fuck out of here. Lead the way, Nyx."

Right, left, right, and he nearly misses the doorway leading to the next set of stairs down. The card key doesn't work on this one either-- probably not high enough clearance, so Nyx just burns his way through it as well, gritting his teeth as sweat runs down his brow. Never was much of a mage. The magic isn't his, but he's running low all the same, tapping the well dry with a gasp as the heavy metal doors fall away. Jagged scorch marks flare and fade over his cheek, jaw and fingers as he shakes bloodless hands to restore some of the circulation.

The final floor, B7, is again all done up in painfully white florescent lighting. Whirring machinery and equipment are nearly arranged through the large room, and at the far right side the wall is lined with glass tubes containing various people, various pieces of people floating in bright blue liquid, heads and severed spines attached to cords, viscera, free floating arms and legs. Nyx has a strong stomach- he kind of has to, doing what he does, but it's enough to make him queasy. On the far end of the laboratory, behind a thick glass wall, is a short, weedy looking man with glasses and a pristine labcoat, leaning over something half-hidden behind a platform. He looks up, blinking at the sight of the two of them-- Lucas, naked, drenched in blood and gore, and Nyx, dressed but not looking all that much better, and his thin lips pull into a wide smile that looks wholly out of place upon his face as his gaze falls with laser-sharp focus upon Lucas, as if he's already forgotten Nyx's presence.

"I'll have you know, your timing couldn't have been more perfect." He straightens up, and the motion reveal his hands, bloody to the wrist. "The prototype has just been completed and all the necessary information mined from that poorly programmed brain of yous, backups and updates completed, so we're quite out of uses for you, Asset M. By all means, come and meet your replacement."

Behind the scientist, something picks itself up from the floor- something human-like in shape alone, over seven feet tall and skinless, oozing blood, as if someone had taken a giant and flayed him, left him with eyeballs rolling in open sockets and mouth contorted in a rictus grin. It looks Lucas and Nyx over with cold, cold blue eyes, and begins striding forward.

"The ah, aesthetic component hasn't been completed yet, but... finishing touches, you know."

There's something very appealing about this.

Lucas is angry at himself, angry at this entire situation he's gotten himself into, angry at the monster he is. The chance to destroy that creature, a hulking clone of himself, that's suits his self-loathing just fine. Seeing what he feels like inside and beating it to death? Count him in.

Lucas smiles at the creature lumbering toward them with the same knife-edged bloodlust he's always used, will always have, can't escape from.

"Bring it on. I'm gonna kick your ass, Pygmalion." And he's rushing forward, roaring angrily as he swings for a punch right between the thing's eyes.

"Midnighter, wait!"

The thing, the giant, the monster-that-isn't Midnighter, makes no effort to dodge, just takes the punch without a noise or reaction, not even a flinch at the sheer brutal force of Midnighter's blow. The scientist had immediately turned tail and fled for the exit at the first hint of combat, but he pauses to gloat, eyes bright with sick pride.

"Ah yes... one of the many upgrades we made- its muscles can repel kinetic force or absorb it and turn it back upon its enemies. Please obser- augh!" Forget the monster, go for its handler. Nyx warps across the room in a flash, catching and slamming the scientist against the glass wall of the room, just as the creature punches Lucas in the gut with a blow like a sledgehammer. It looks up at the scientist's pained cries, back down at Lucas, and then casually turns away as if in dismissal, lumbering toward Nyx.

Lucas is all fury, being sent sprawling back and scrabbling up for another chance to fight. It's all he can think of, putting his fists into the pain of this, destroying everything until there's nothing left, until the blood drowns them both. But Nyx is smarter and faster, and he understands instantly why he would have asked for his help.

He also understands that his leg is shattered. Well, what else is new. He lopes after the creature, not caring how his leg sticks out wrong, fresh blood oozing out of rips in his side. "If you hurt him, I swear to god-"

Nyx has his hands full with the scientist, wrestling the pistol the man had somehow produced from his coat out of his grasp, when suddenly the giant is upon him, moving faster than he could have ever imagined.

Well, fuck- is his last thought before an enormous fist comes smashing down upon him. Nyx brings up an arm with a snarl of effort, a dome-like shield appearing between them, and it immediately cracks from end to end as it absorbs the blow, bits of brightly glowing magic splintering away and fading into the air.

The scientist yelps at the impact next to his head, and manages to fumble his fingers around the gun. The crack of the gunshot rings through the air, and Nyx looks down as if surprised by the dark red stain spreading over his chest, just below his shoulder.

Lucas doesn't know this man, doesn't understand him, except he's asked Nyx for help, and all Nyx got for it was a bullet in his chest. Lucas is limping, bleeding, and he doesn't give a shit, he'll kill everyone here to clear his debts.

"Hey, fuckhead!" Anything to distract from Nyx, to keep him safe a moment longer. The monster turns, confused and angry. "He's dead. You're here to fight me, remember?"

The computer says Nyx isn't dead. That he might be soon, but he isn't yet. Lucas will keep that to his fucking self, thanks. "You're me. You've got my weaknesses." He mutters through clenched teeth as the lumbering giant surges forward. Lucas, meanwhile, reaches down, grabs the metal plating on the floor, and begins tearing it upward. The metal makes a sharp spike in the ground. "Andrew always says I got a big heart deep down. Let's see."

Lucas stands in front of the metal spike now jutting out of the ground as the best lunges for him, before he just... rolls out of the way. The creature impales itself on it, and... well, it doesn't die, that'd be too much to hope for. But it does howl like a motherfucker, blood and pain everywhere, while Lucas limps over to the scientist who shot Nyx.

"Hey, fucker. Remember me?"

Nyx's ears are still ringing from the gunshot, which had knocked him back flat against the wall from sheer impact, sliding down and leaving a bloody red smear over the glass. It takes him a moment to recover, staggering up to his knees with a grunt. One of his arms is definitely out of commission, though thankfully it's the same arm Lucas had sprained earlier.

The scientist is a few feet away, already scrambling to his feet, eyes wide behind glasses spattered with blood. He levels the pistol at Lucas with shaking hands.

"S-stay back! Don't you dare-"

Behind him, the monster rips himself free with another shriek, a long, jagged piece of metal still jutting out of his body. Whirling, he lunges toward Lucas, jaws bared in a rictus grin and arms outstretched. Nyx's shout of warning is more a snarl as he wraps his bloodied fingers around the crystal pendant hanging from his neck. Raw energy scorches through him, lines of light cracking through his face, the heat turning the metal beneath his body a smoldering red as Nyx throws an hand out, lobbing a enormous bolt of lightning right at the giant's chest.

Edited (:T english) 2018-02-26 04:59 (UTC)

The metal and the thunder cooks the monster from inside out, leaving it a screaming, twitching mass of flesh as it dies slowly and painfully on the floor, covered in soot and blood. Lucas grins the whole time, feeling an absurd sense of vindication as the computer confirms its death.

All while slouching toward the scientist with the gun, his grin a knife. The scientist shoots him, but his aim is terrible with twitching hands-- Lucas catches two bullets in the gut, and he can't give a shit. He's on the scientist, grabbing his head and twisting. There's a sickening crack, blood, and then the corpse slouches, gun still in hand.

He turns to Nyx. "Hope you didn't need him alive." Reaches out to him with peculiar gentleness, unsure what to do with a damaged comrade. He's never fought with someone who wasn't basically invulnerable. "You need help? Tell me what to do."

Jagged lines of light flare over his jaw, down the column of his throat, and this time they don't fade as Nyx slumps back against the glass. The crystal's power surges through him, furious without outlet and burning in his blood; he'd throw up if he weren't so fucking drained. Blood is still leaking out of him like a sieve, but Nyx has a feeling that if he tries to cauterize the wound now, he'd just end up with a scorched crater where his shoulder used to be. Fuck.

He glances up at Lucas approaches, throwing up an arm.

"No, don't-!" Electricity crackles over his knuckles, exploding in a burst of sparks, and Nyx puts his hand down, afraid of sending another lightning bolt in Lucas' direction.

"It's alright. I'm fine." Or at least, he will be. Nyx thinks. Probably. Lucas, on the other hand... "Your leg... fuck." He tries halfheartedly to push himself up to his feet, completely fails, but his focus now is entirely on the other man. "Here, let me see-"

There's a faint rumble in the distance, footsteps maybe, or the grinding of rock against rock.

Lucas holds his hands up, expression caught in worry. He feels... offended? No, too strong. Hurt. Not physically-- fuck that, he'll pop his leg back together and take a nap, it'll be fine. But his chest constricts and his breathing slows. "I won't hurt you," he says, but he inches away, trailing blood. "We gotta get outta here. I can carry you."

It's a lot like pleading.

He looks over his shoulder at the source of the noise, frowning. "Sooner'd be better'n later."

"No, don't... don't wanna hurt you." He closes his eyes, trying to breath evenly as a tongue of flame flickers over his injured shoulder, following the trail of blood before it's snuffed out. "Not great at controlling this thing."

Nyx has never left so much of the crystal's power unused before, can feel it bleeding through his skin as heat and light, stirring against his bones, inside of his ribcage. He doesn't know what'll happen if Lucas tries to pick him up, if he can control it, weak as he is, or if it'll lash out and hurt him, burn or shock or freeze him solid.

The distant sound is getting closer, resolving itself into heavy booted footsteps. Nyx makes a spirited attempt to stand up and sort of manages it this time, staggering and propping himself up against the wall with a gasp.

"You should go. I'll hold them off."

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