This Time…
His back was pressed firmly against a wooden crate left behind as useless when the factory closed down, though now it served as the only barrier between him and the bullets determined to bite into his flesh. They were raining down all around him. Whizzing past his head like an angry swarm of bees and splintering the wood as they burrowed deep into the many grains. Empty shell casings lay spewed at his feet as proof of his dire attempts to protect himself, but more importantly his team. His back rigid and gun held erect, Arthur breathed deeply. On the surface time moved at a speed which mimicked that breached by a runaway train only moments from losing its desperate grip of the track. But underneath, Arthur's mind moved agonizingly slow. It was if the master of time took a leave of absence from his duties leaving the world to forever be trapped in a state of perpetual silence.
It is just the same as any dream. The vividness, the pounding of his adrenaline fueled head in rhythm with his raging heart. The desperate orders shouted from Cobb as he tried maintain a certain level of control; tried to keep the mission on track. The sly remarks from Eames as he attempted to keep a positive atmosphere, for it was the only way he functioned. Arthur had never considered how much this personality that he usually classified as unprofessional and at times drove him mad, was the only thing keeping him focused at times like these; just like in any dream. But this time…
Looking to his left he saw Eames in a position similar to his own. Body pressed tightly against his preserver of life, beads of sweat littered across his forehead, gun gripped in both hands with such force his knuckles were white, shoulders trembling from the consistent contraction of his muscles. On the right, due to the multiple bullet ridden barriers, Arthur could only see the tip of Cobb's shoe. Panic grasped at him due for his inability to tell if Cobb had been hit by a bullet thirsty for blood. His heart rate increased and the beads of sweat broke formation as they began to form paths on his skin similar to the way a raging river cuts its way along the Earth's surface. The salty drops stung his eyes making them red and causing him to blink rapidly.
It is just the same as any dream; the constant uncertainty, his constant worry, the constant striving for perfection with no room for error. Mistakes were not allowed. Mistakes meant failure, it was his job to ensure that the missions would never fail by knowing every detail; preparing for every scenario. Because he would do anything its takes to keep his team safe. It was just as any other dream but this time…
Head still pounding with the racing of his heart, his worry faded as one of Cobb's orders floated across the air vibrating off all of the old rusted metal as to repeatedly ensure him that Cobb was unharmed.
"Arthur!" Eames cried.
Before Arthur could even turn his head to acknowledge Eames, a bullet grazed his forehead then planted itself deep within his unnoticed attacker; his head snapped back before bouncing off of the solid wooden crate. For a moment, bright colors exploded before his eyes like fireworks on the fourth of July. Regaining his bearing, Arthur reached up and dabbed the shallow angry trail with the back of his shirt sleeve which was no longer bright white and ironed to perfection but ripped, smeared with dirt, and splattered with blood. Glancing at the lifeless form next to him, Arthur silently cursed himself for allowing this man to penetrate his team's only realm of safety.
Looking towards Eames, Arthur found him staring in his direction; his expression unreadable. He could only offer Eames a slight nod of thanks. Then counting down from three using his fingers as a visual guide, because his voice would not be heard over the harsh discordance of sound that harassed the Earth, Arthur tried to calm the new deep pounding of his skull. Understanding Arthur's message, Eames tensed, then he and Arthur rose slightly firing wildly over their barricades. A steady ting of bullets ricocheting off of concrete and metal mingled with only two soft thuds was the music that rushed to their ears as they retreated at the same speed they began their attack.
It was just the same as any dream; the sound of bullets ripping into flesh followed by the cry of pain the body refuses to be denied before the slight thud of a lifeless body hitting the concrete. Arthur's stomach always contracted painfully when he heard that sound, but he could never escape it. It was the same in any dream. It was the sound of death; he heard it on every job as he protected his team from mindless projections wanting nothing more than for them to be gone. Be gone from the dream, from the mind. But only this time…
"MOVE!" Cobb shouted. There was no thought, only reaction. Arthur and Eames rose already firing shots at the enemy. A cry of strength and rage emanated from Cobb's throat as he charged forward to his next hedge of protection, glancing only momentarily to his other two team members confirming that they followed. Eames made cover first, risking time to wipe the sweat from his upper lip. Cobb landed far to Eames right only a fraction later, followed closely by Arthur who landed hard on the concrete between both of them after a dive that barely ensured the avoidance of a bullet meeting his side.
Cobb glanced in Arthur's direction worriedly before rising to send off more warning shots. Arthur heard Eames follow suit to his left. The sound was deafening as a poorly aimed grenade crashed into the ground about 10 yards behind them. The three men curled into balls at the base of their crates to protect their already battered bodies from the down pour of ruble following the explosion.
It was the same as any dream; all of the mind rattling noise. The blaring sirens making their way through the shouting mobs, the disorienting explosions, the constant chaos never giving you a moment to think. That is why Arthur was always prepared. Always ready for every scenario because there would be no time to think, only react. There was only ever time for reaction, any reaction that would ensure the safety of his team; just like in any dream. But only this time…
Grabbing his fallen gun, Arthur once again sent a down pour of bullets towards the hiding cowards before him; the sound of a single death echoing through the sea of noise. Then fear shot through Arthur as he heard the unmistakable click of an empty barrel; Eames was out of bullets, now frantically digging in his pockets for what he knew he would not find. But it was the only thing he could do. Distracted, he did not notice the cowering man off to the side of him, aiming a deadly shot right at the center of his forehead.
"Eames MOVE!" Arthur shouted as a precaution incase he missed his target; but his aim was true and the man's gun clattered to the ground before being covered by his crumpled body. Though his aim was true the man managed to squeeze off a shot that grazed Eames's arm who was now lying on his side clutching the bloody wound. But it wasn't Eames wound that caused Arthur pulse to increase, it was only a shallow flesh wound, it was the fact that he too had now completely depleted his supply of bullets.
Guided by some unknown force, just then in the midst everything Arthur glanced towards the ceiling. There, standing like the devil himself stood a sniper; gun trained directly at Cobb's heart. Time screeched to a stop on all levels of consciousness for Arthur as his mind reeled with possibilities; there was not enough time to shout. His gun was out of bullets. There was not enough time…
His legs launched his body powerfully off of the ground as his mind whirled like a twister.
It was the same as any dream…
The feeling of red hot pain coursed through him as the bullet tore deep into his chest and he landed hard on his shoulder at Cobb's feet. Whirling, Cobb shot wide. It was as if God led his bullet to the man above who fell hard from the second floor with a soul numbing shriek.
"Arthur?" Cobb asked in a trembling voice. Eames was now on his hands and knees besides them watching in horror as the crimson liquid of life flowed from the young point man at an incredible rate. His eyes looked at them hazily. He looked happy, as if he was unaware of the dire circumstance he was in. Slowly opening his mouth, Cobb and Eames instinctually leaning closer to catch the faint words, he said:
"Keep the team safe… no matter the cost…" then his eyes closed peacefully.
Tear collected under Cobb's eyes, he barely registered that Eames was trembling beside him. They were not aware of the sudden silence, of the peace. Mobs were no longer shouting, sirens were no longer blaring. Bullets no longer wined passed their heads.
It was the same as any dream; when the battle was won a peace would blanket the world as if apologizing for the temper tantrum that had just ripped through land.
But only this time…
It was reality
Hey everyone! I thought this up last night and decided to post it as a one-shot. I hope you all enjoy this and let me know what you think. Thanks in advance to everyone who reads.