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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"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!"

"Oh would you stop being so fucking over dramatic," Dean rolled his eyes, starting to lose his patience. "You're getting tortured in hell, I'm really fucking sorry if this is a shock to you. Now I'm doing what I can, I'm going out on a limb for you, but I gotta tell you I don't like getting yelled at."

"No...calm down...breathe. Take these few moments of torture free living and enjoy. You're just," he laughed, though clearly annoyed, "you are really fucking lucky we're low on the kind of demon you'll become, means we gotta keep you around. You know I've done a lot for you Lindsey, and I'm not feeling a lot of gratitude right now."

Lindsey glared, but he also listened. It was true, he hadn't been this free of pain for all of last week and he shouldn't waste it taking his anger out on a demon who didn't care for his anger.

He took a breath, inwardly marveling that he could breathe at all, as hot and sulfur filled the air was, and slowly calmed down.

"How... How much longer?" He didn't know how much longer he could take being tortured. True, he was probably getting off easy and he should be feeling gratitude for that, but it was hard to muster gratitude when moment ago he was in the process of getting his only hand sawed off.

"Sam thought five years, I talked him down to a year but seeing how much you're freaking you," he looked over the other man for a moment. "I'll try to talk him down again, maybe six months? I might be able to do three."

At that point, Lindsey didn't care if the demon thought he was weak, he couldn't hold back the whimper at the initial idea of five years of this. He swallowed still at the one year offer, but actually began to look grateful for three months. Three months he could do. Maybe.

"Will you come around again?" Because aside from his ugly monster torturer, Dean was the only familiar face he knew down here. And Dean was on his side, right?

Dean shrugged, "I guess. I'm in charge of this whole department, I'm always around. I was originally going to be in charge of your torture but the great and powerful king thought I might go to easy on you. He forgets I don't remember how to go easy on people. You're better off with fugly over there."

Lindsey laughed uneasily at that, but at least he was laughing. Awkwardly. Through reddened eyes. But it was infinitely better than moments before. "I doubt that... at least you're easier on the eyes." Look, he was even attempting to joke.

"Because I get to be," he looked down at his hands, smiling a little. "Trust me if I didn't have Sam keeping me this way I'd be pretty awful looking. I'm tall though....that's always nice."

"When I... work for you guys, will I be that ugly looking?" Lindsey never was vain about his looks, but he knew that appearance made a man. It was the main difference between him as the successful lawyer and when he was too poor to buy proper shoes. If he turned into something ugly looking like that, he doubt any amount of custom suits would make him look respectable.

Dean chucked a little at that, he couldn't help it. "Eventually, yeah. After you break and get off the rack you'll slowly start getting more and more demonic, lose those pretty human features."

That got Lindsey's brows to furrow. "But I thought you wanted me to make deals with people... broker contracts. Don't I need human features to convince them?" It was not vanity to not want to end up as an ugly demonic brute.

"Easy, you do it like every other demon does it. When you go uptop you possess a nice looking body. Your body's dead, can't get that back."

"Nothing you can do about it?" Lindsey knew he was stretching his luck, but given he was as stretched as he could get anyway, there was no harm in trying for a bit more. It was what he was good at anyway. "I work better in my own skin... and I know you have tricks you can use up your sleeve."

Dean just stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out if he was being serious. He shook his head and turned to leave. "See ya later Lindsey, I'll try to stop by in a month or two."

"Wait," Lindsey called, not knowing if Dean would truly listen or if he had any reason to. "Don't call the big ugly back... Stay. Be the one to torture me."

He swallowed. It was a reckless, stupid, idiotic plan, but maybe he would get a chance to talk Dean into letting him keep his body or some other deal. He was good at making them, and he needed the guy who could make decisions to listen to them.

Dean stopped, out of morbid curiosity if nothing else. "You're a moron. I'm worse than anything you've dealt with and I wouldn't go easy on you, can't have anyone questioning my skills. Believe me, you're better with ugly."

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