bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

the lyric prompt meme

HOW TO PLAY:

♪ Comment with your characters.
♪ Post to other characters with lyric prompts and, optionally, a picture to go with it.
♪ The lyrics can come from any song you like, or, hell, you can just link some instrumental music as well. Just so long as there's a song.
♪ Threads happen! Tears are shed.

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[For nearly twenty years, Booker DeWitt had been a man living in a permanent twilight. He'd cut the letters of his daughter's name into his hand already. (A drunken stupor, a moment of inconsolable grief, a letter-opener close at hand.) He sat at his desk, head in hands. He barely moved from there when there isn't a job to be had. Barely managed to even crawl out of a liquor bottle.]

[The door to Anna's room remained sealed. He won't- or can't- face the magnitude of what he'd done. That night in the alleyway still burned deep in his memory whenever he so much as thought of opening that door. All that was left of Anna was the last digit of a tiny little pinky finger. His daughter, snatched away out of his reach. And it was all his fault. His fault alone...]

[When Robert knocked on the door, for a moment, there was no response. No outward sign that Booker DeWitt was in. Then, finally, there came a reply. There was no life behind the words, though.]

Door's open for business, pal.

[Robert took a deep breath. One more chance to take a step back, to retreat. But he couldn't abide the idea of that cowardice. He'd been brave enough to cross into another world, a world in which he did not exist, with only a glimmer of a chance that he wouldn't be torn to shreds the moment he did so or go completely mad. This required no more courage than that.

He was all nerves, but he knew how to take on the appearance of absolute calm.

Robert pushed the door open and stepped in. The squalor of the room was... pleasant. It spoke of another slide into self-destruction, yes, but that path meant remorse. The night in the alley hadn't been accepted, eventually, as 'for the best.' Hopefully there was still some fight in the mind. He closed the door behind him and approached the desk. For all his focus and apparent ease, Robert was worried what would happen to him the moment this man recognized his face, voice, or both.]

Hello, Mr. DeWitt.

[That voice-]

[Mr. Comstock washes you of all your sins.]

[Booker looked up from his desk, his face twisted in a mix of despair and blind fury. He threw his chair back, heedless of it slamming against the wall. Stood. His fists curled into fists.]

...You. What do you want? You got- [He swallowed once, hard.] You took Anna. I've got nothing left for you or yours. Get out of here.

[A pause, then Booker's voice rose.]

Well?! Go!

[Robert flinches. It's almost imperceptible, but it's there.

Better the chair to the wall and the fists on the desk than Robert himself. Not that he is absolved from the threat of physical violence. It's still a very real possibility.]

I made a mistake. [Difficult words, but there they are.]

I'm here because I want to... to fix it. As best as it can be fixed, at least. If you're brave enough to try and fix your mistake.

[Booker laughs harsly, disbelievingly. Fix his mistake? How? Anna is out of his reach. The man with the beard is beyond any means of locating him. All he has is his regrets, an empty room, and a man offering something that's impossible.]

Yeah? Welcome to the club, buddy. I made a mistake last time. I won't make it again.

[He lunges at Robert. Seizes his collar in one hand. Raises the other into a fist. Then he stops. It's a pathetic tableau. Beating the life out of Robert might feel good, but it won't change anything.]

[It won't bring Anna back.]

...If I do this, you give me your word that Anna and I can leave together. You promise me.

[The flinch is obvious that time. Robert prepared himself to take a hard blow, to have to limp back to Rosalind battered and bloody. But DeWitt stopped.

They were both different men now. Sixteen years had changed them.]

I promise the chance. Getting to her might kill you. Getting her out might kill you. But I can promise you the chance.

I owe her that much.

[Sixteen years changes all things. Even the sting of guilt and shame.]

[Booker's hand uncurls from its fist. He lets go of Robert's collar roughly. Shoves the man back none-too-gently. It's not tacit agreement, sure, but it should be taken as a good sign.]

...We both owe her that much. [Anna...] All right. You've got my interest. Start talking.

[It's a good enough sign for Robert, certainly. Anything that doesn't involve a gun fired at his head is an improvement on his "worst case scenario."

The man is, at least, remorseful enough to listen.]

It's complicated -- I won't bore you with the science. It will have to suffice to say that Anna is in another world. Similar to this one but different. Zachary Comstock is the leader of a theocracy there. He is the man who paid me to broker our deal and provided me the funds. He was... desperate... to have a child.

[Which is all DeWitt needs to know. Not that he'll remember it. For the first two weeks after crossing between worlds, Robert had only remembered his name and Rosalind. He'd surrounded himself with scientific journals and accounts of what had happened to him. His own hand and written by Rosalind. His mind had tried desperately to rationalize everything.

He'd been away, been touring Europe. Then, he'd joined Rosalind in Columbia. Only through vicious, repetitive focus on the journals had he finally been sure of it all. That those memories were false, created to solve the cognitive dissonance of existing in a place where he didn't exist.

DeWitt would have no need to fight that as much. He could embrace just the knowledge of the task.]

My sister and I developed a way to go between the worlds, thus how we brought Anna from one to another. We can do the same with you.

If I could, I would take you right to Anna. Save you the journey, but that won't work. Comstock is... probably watching our house -- my sister's and mine. If you emerge from it, even in the dead of night, he'll kill you.

So, we will be delivering you an associate of ours. He will take you to a lighthouse. He'll have a box for you -- things to help you get started. The lighthouse is the door to Columbia. A messenger of mine will be waiting when you enter Columbia proper.

When you get to Monument Island, my sister and I will be able to help a little more.

[The plans were already set. Wait for DeWitt to make it that far and, if he did, help destabilize and sabotage the siphon. They didn't have the power to destroy it, but they could weaken it enough to allow the Lamb to escape.]

Once Comstock realizes you're in Columbia, he'll do everything he can to stop you. You'll be fighting a man who thinks he's a step away from being God in a city that reveres him as a god.

You'll have your work cut out for you, Mr. DeWitt.

[If only everything could go according to plan.

Robert knows how unlikely that is. Knows the number of ways this can go to lead to his own death. It's almost a certainty. But...

Things get set in motion.]

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