A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first fan fiction EVER! *YAY*
This one's gonna be primarily action, no slashiness or fluffiness (if I can help it). This story is gonna focus primarily on the professional relationship of all the team members – with a little friendship mixed in. I hope the characters are not too OOC.
Please leave reviews and comments it'll make my story better and make me warm and fuzzy!
Italics = thoughts; "quotes" = speech; To allay any confusion: The story jumps between the past and the present.
Disclaimer: Chris Nolan made inception, I simply watched it and wrote this… that is all.
- RaifandRosefan
Chapter 1 – How to Survive an Attempt on Your Life
Rule #1: Don't Believe in Coincidences
HOLY FUUUUUUUCK, was the only thought Ariadne could manage. For the second time this month, the architect found herself running for her life.
On this grey November day, she had at least worn comfortable shoes, but that didn't make this chase any less terrifying! Her lungs and throat were raw and burned from struggling to breathe as she pushed her body to run faster than it ever had. The biting autumn air suffocated the architect who now wished she had joined the university's intramural track team when she had the chance. But that doesn't matter now, because Ariadne is running – no escaping – from two men who mysteriously appeared after her 9 am lecture with Professor Miles.
Ariadne assumed they were just regular office workers. It wasn't unusual to see men and women roaming the walkways of her campus during their coffee breaks. She lumped the two strange men in with the rest of the people amusing themselves between bouts of monotonous work.
Unfortunately, Ariadne was wrong.
Why does this keep happening to me! Ariadne demanded – to no one in particular, as she ran through a park where teens huddled around each other as they smoked their cigarettes, totally oblivious.
After her class with Professor Miles, Ariadne decided she would to go back to her apartment. She'd gotten up late that day and rushed to class before she could take a proper shower and eat breakfast. She was going home to catch up on her morning routine. This planned changed, however, when those two men in their neat corduroy pants and wool sweaters began to tail her.
Their presence was barely felt, at first.
Ariadne realized she had no desire to cook when she got home. So, she took a quick detour – dipping into a café to get breakfast – before heading home. It took little time for her order to be ready and she was off again, with coffee and breakfast sandwich in hand, toward her apartment.
As Ariadne waited at the crosswalk for the line of cars to pass, she looked to her left and saw one of the two men who were standing outside of her lecture hall. The man was looking at his watch and waiting to cross the adjacent street to the Ariadne's. Ariadne shrugged the man's presence off as mere coincidence. He probably worked or lived nearby. Tons of people took similar routes to work and home as she did… right?
A knot grew in Ariadne's stomach. If there is one thing she has learned from her new job, it's that coincidences are not to be ignored.
Ariadne walked briskly across the street. She opened the messenger bag she wore across her body and tossed her sandwich inside. The foil-wrapped sandwich smacked comfortingly against the 9mm she had jammed between her notebooks. Can't have people seeing the outline of a gun in my bag now can we? Ariadne noticed the business man turned away from the street in front of him and was now following her. Ariadne picked up her pace. On the street running parallel to hers, another man – the other guy outside Professor's office – was throwing threatening glances her way and matching her pace. Oh shit, Ariadne thought, It's happening again! Ariadne made a quick left turn, ducking into a crowded department store. The two men followed.
Rule #2: Get Help
The department store was enormous. Big enough for me to get lost in, she concluded as she pushed her way up the escalators. Winding through crowds of people, Ariadne pilfered items of clothing from unobservant shoppers. She pulled an unwitting stranger's brown hat over her head as she walked through the crowd . The architect looked around her, she didn't see the two men.
This made her nervous.
Ariadne determinedly scanned the crowed as she hurried toward the back entrance of the department store. She saw one of her pursuers on the floor above her looking down over the crowd. He hadn't seen her yet. Good. But he was watching the exit, meaning she couldn't leave now. GAH! Ariadne pulled her hat down lower over her head and locked arms with an average but visually pleasing young Parisian man who looked like he was lost himself.
"Bonjour," she said as she offered him a smile. The young man wore a surprised expression on his face. His eyes sparkled with a hint of playfulness and confusion. He didn't seem to mind her sudden presence on his arm. The two of them walked toward another wing of the large and hopelessly crowded store.
Where's the other guy? I don't see him. I gotta call someone… Eames, Arthur – hell, I'll take DOM right now! The young man on her arm was making pleasant small talk while Ariadne was too preoccupied to listen. That is, until his hand began waving in front of her face.
"Hoo, Hoo! Mademoiselle ? Est-ce qu'il y a un problème? Vous avez l'air d'avoir peur, " he said in a concerned and intimate tone. The sincere look on the kind stranger's face made Ariadne's stomach churn. No, she could not involve this young man in her life-threatening endeavors. After scanning the crowd for her pursuers and coming up with nothing, Ariadne smoothly reassured the young man that there was indeed no problem and that she was perfectly fine. She thanked him for his company in fluent and perfectly accented French, disappearing into the crowd before the young man could even think to ask for her number.
Fuck! I am so fucked! Ariadne seethed as she wormed her way toward the exit.
Once outside, Ariadne took off like a lightning bolt, speeding toward the park, her short-cut to the warehouse. Where else am I supposed to go, she reasoned.
Ariadne removed her cell phone from her bag and speed dialed Arthur. The phone rang once… twice… Please God! Please! If I make it out of this alive, I'll quit smoking. I promise, she begged. Arthur picked up the phone.
In the warehouse, the point man stood next to his desk, dressed in an immaculate Tom Ford three piece suit – minus the jacket, tie, and with shirt partially unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up. He answered the phone. What he heard on the other end was a frantic Ariadne who was severely out of breath!
"Help me!" She gasped, "two men – Chasing! I'm running toward – WAREHOUSE! Arthur!"
"Where are you now?" The point man asked, absolutely serious.
"The Park! …Rue Chambray! Hurry please!"
Arthur snapped his phone closed, turning toward his desk. Eames, wearing his usual look: expensive dress shirt and pants from the night before, sat not too far away. He noticed the change in the point man's demeanor.
An intense point man = an intense problem.
"What's wrong?" Eames asked as he stood up from his chair. Arthur reached into the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a gun. Arthur hid the gun in the side of his trousers.
"It's Ariadne. She's being chased by two men. She's in the park on Rue Chambray," Arthur explained as he slid his jacket on over his shoulders. Eames grabbed his car keys and coat, sliding his gun into the beltline of his pants. The forger and point man marched toward the warehouse door. Without another word, the two colleagues were speeding in the direction of Parc Rue Chambray.
Rule #3: Don't Go Into Shock
In a deserted section of the park, Ariadne is huddled behind a large concrete statue of Le Saint Chambray, patron saint of people in way over their heads,Ariadne thought. The first of many bullets blasted from her pursuers' guns. The architect hauled out her own gun from her bag, releasing the safety lock. A procession of bullets fly past her, some hitting the statue, causing her to wince.
The sound of metal pounding metal continues for many moments as Ariadne braces herself for her defense. Within seconds, Ariadne has swung her arm around the statue and is returning gunfire like the well trained professional she is. One of her bullets almost makes contact the with the taller of her two pursuers. Ariadne quickly ducks behind the old crap-stained statue. You could show up any time now, Guys! That would be really appreciated! A bullet flies just above the architect's head, interrupting her thoughts. Ariadne returns gunfire before hiding once more behind the statue. Fuck. Ariadne reloads her gun.
Arthur attaches a silencer to Eames' gun as Eames swerves to avoid traffic.
"Arthur, we've got to sort out who these sodding pricks are! I don't want to be picking up pieces of our architect when they finally to get her!"
"Neither do I, Eames," said Arthur, sternly.
"So what should we do – I mean – once we've don't away with this situation in the park?"
"I'm not sure yet," Arthur admits.
Eames does not like that last statement at all.
Ariadne is bleeding. One of the pursuers' bullets tore through her left arm, missing the bone, but creating an excruciatingly painful flesh wound. Ariadne applies pressure to the wound, as blood trickles down her arm. Her grey sleeve has turned to crimson.
On the plus side, Ariadne managed to lodge a bullet in the heart of one of her pursuers, the shorter one. He now lies on the ground motionless and cold. But this is no victory. Ariadne is still in the middle of a shootout, in the middle of some park in Paris, with a giant hole in her arm, and a hailstorm of bullets raining over her, with a dead man, whom she killed, lying on the ground nearby. Do people in Paris not believe in calling the police? Shouldn't there be someone here by now? Arthur? Eames? Anybody! I have a fucking hole in my arm and I'm gonna run out of magazines pretty soon! Fuck! Ariadne, Do. Not. Panic! Ariadne does her best to remain calm as the situation around her deteriorates into madness.
The sound of screeching car tires catches Ariadne's attention. Arthur and Eames emerge from Eames' black sports car. Arthur runs towards Ariadne. Eames deftly – and silently – places a bullet between her pursuer's eyes. Next, Eames removes his cell phone from his pocket and takes pictures of the cadavers' faces.
Arthur takes in the architect's form. She is slumped over and pale. Arthur's dark eyes zero in on Ariadne's sticky scarlet fingers, shit.
"She's been hit!" Arthur yells to Eames. Eames pockets his phone and runs over to where Ariadne sits.
"We've got to get her to the emergency room before she goes into shock," Eames says, running toward his vehicle.
"It's just a flesh wound," Ariadne mumbles, her voice hollow, her breathing rapid, "what are we gonna do about the bodies…? We can't leave them… this is a park... there are children…"
Arthur pulls Ariadne up, she can barely support her own weight. "We can't stay. You need a hospital," he reasons, "the police will have to clear this up. The bullets and guns are untraceable, no one will know who killed them." Eames opens the rear door of the car to help Arthur place the architect on the back seat . The point man takes the towel given to him by Eames and makes a tourniquet for Ariadne's wound.
"Ari, love," Eames snaps his fingers to get Ariadne's attention, "you've lost a lot of blood. You mustn't go to sleep. Do you hear me?" He snaps again, "Ari?" Eames looks at the architect, nervous. "Ari, darling, can you hear me?"
"Yes, Eames," Ariadne answers, finally, "Please, be quieter. Your accent is making my head hurt." The architect is still snarky, even in the early stages of shock. Relieved, Eames and Arthur chuckle lightly.
"Well, answer me next time, and I won't have to be so loud, " Eames retorts, his voice smiling.
"We have to get out of here," Arthur reminds the forger. Eames is already in the driver's seat. Arthur closes the rear door and slides into the passenger's seat. The three teammates are off to the nearest hospital.
"Now I have a question," the weary architect begins.
"Yes?" Arthur asks, curious but somehow already knowing the architect's question.
"Who were those men? And why did they want to kill me?" Ariadne slurs.
The forger and point man's expressions grow dark with contemplation. It is Arthur who offers the unsatisfying answer.
"We don't know."
Ariadne wasn't sure if her head was spinning due to the motion of the vehicle or Arthur's words. Either way, she did not like it.
"This is not good. Not good at all."
Eames exhales a breath he'd been unintentionally holding. The vehicle pulls up to a hospital.