[The Point Man]
Santana was jostled as she stood in line and shoved a bit as her purse was stolen.
"Get back here," she yelled even as the man disappeared in the crowd.
Santana scowled the children that ran about the amusement with large stuffed animals and balloons in their hands as they ran between the rides.
"I hope you didn't have anything of value."
Santana turned to see a man dressed in a suit, wearing a pair shades. There was something odd about him that made him stand out from all the people around her, and for a moment the drifting carnival music paused as Santana narrowed her eyes at him.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"You don't remember me from the training? I'm Mr. Charles."
"You're going to break it," Tina pointed out as Artie twisted the watch on his hand. "And how could you keep track of things?"
Casting a glance over the park ground, Artie scowled once more in Kurt's directions. Their hapless friend was in conversation with Santana running the gambit.
With a sigh Artie let go of the watch, and sat down on the brick wall.
Tina smiled and sat down next to him, nudging him slightly in the ribs, "I thought you trusted Kurt?"
"I trust him, not his ideas."
"Then tell me how," Tina teased, lowering her sunglasses "did we end up here?"
Artie tried not to smile but it was hard. "That joke's going to get old one of these days."
"But not today."
A shadow fell over them, as Quinn stood before them, covered in silly string and wearing a straw hat.
"Who's Mr. Charles?" Quinn said as she caught her breath.
"A tactic," Artie replied, "used to alert the person she's in a dream. It's very risky since it alerts the consciousness that things aren't normal and if you can't keep the dreamer believing in the gambit... well the less said the better."
"I thought," Quinn asked as she plucked the silly string off her sun dress, "you weren't supposed to that? The projections will come after you?"
"By now you realize Kurt does a great deal of things he says not to do," Artie remarked, "a great number of things."
"What will happen now?"
"Kurt will use the Mr. Charles gambit to get Santana's trust," Tina said smoothing the fabric of blue dress, "it actually a very good thing to do despite the risks. With the security in her mind, it could help if she can trust us."
"And if he doesn't get her trust?"
Their eyes darted over to where Kurt and Santana sat. The puppets had begun to dance on their own, swaying with an invisible wind and the ground titled a bit.
"Is the dream collapsing?" Quinn asked.
"That's the effects from Mercedes's driving," Tina said putting the sunglasses into her purse, the handle of the gun inside gleamed a bit before she closed it. "She must be running into some trouble."
Quinn however wasn't relieved.
She glanced around nervously at the projections romping through the amusement park. "Everyone's looking this way."
"He must be calling her attention to strangeness of the dream," Artie said with a nod, "the projections are looking for the dreamer, which is me."
"How do you draw attention away?"
"By acting natural and fitting into the environment," Tina said, Like this." Without another word she leaned over and pecked Artie lightly on the lips.
Quinn's eyebrows rose in bit in surprise but she didn't say a word.
"Did it work?" Artie asked.
Tina shook her head.
"Oh well, worth a shot." He tugged her gently by the arm and gestured towards Quinn. "Come with us, Kurt will handle this. We need to distract the projections."
"I hope you aren't going to kiss me as well," Quinn said dryly.
"He wouldn't dream of it," Tina replied hooking her arm into his.
Quinn followed the pair, leading her through the maze of rides and attractions to the spinning tea cup ride in the center of the park.
As Artie pulled out the charges from the back, Tina said to Quinn, "Puck should be finished planting Santana's purse."
"What was the purpose of him stealing it anyway," Quinn asked, "He can't sell it."
"Everything here," Artie said as he placed the bombs on foundation of the ride, "is an idea or concept. It means something."
"So the purse represents-"
"A distraction," Tina said, "look sharp, they're heading our way."
Kurt led Santana through the crowd, Puck followed behind absently chewing on cotton candy.
"We can eat in the dreamscape?" Quinn asked.
"You can do anything," Artie said absently tapping his foot on the ground, "it's all in the mind."
"I wasn't looking for answer."
"It's a reflex," Artie muttered.
"Who are they?" Santana asked turning to Kurt, "Are they part of your security team?"
"We're here to protect you," Kurt assured her smoothly, "and your mind from those who attempt to break into it."
"Why would they want the secrets in my mind?"
"The safe," Artie coughed.
"Yes, the safe," Kurt pointed out, "with the will inside."
"There's no safe, there are no secrets!" Santana yanked herself from the group, "If I'm dreaming, I can just wake myself up can't I?
Artie looked around as the carnival tilted a bit, stretching and straining in reflection of Santana's inner torment.
"Santana." Brittany walked towards the group, but this time as projection from Santana's mind. She held on a leash a golden retriever puppy, whose tagged wagged as it sniffed Santana's leg. "You said you come to the circus with me. But your father said go away after I found what was in the safe."
"What safe," Santana grabbed the projection by the shoulder, but Brittany became tight lipped, "What's in the safe? The will?"
"The only way you'll find out if you go in her mind." Kurt said, "Do the thing that people after you two are trying to do. She knows the secrets it's just locked away."
Santana's' eyes were still locked on Brittany, "fine let's do this."
Tina leaped to action, as the others milled around. "Take a seat you two," she said gesturing for them to sit in the ride. As Santana settled, Tina knocked out with a flick of the knockout gas.
"Let's get this party started," Puck said clapping his hands together, tossing the cotton candy to the ground as he hopped into the ride.
As the others took their places in the seat, Artie pulled out the briefcase placing on the center of the ride as everyone got situated.
"Security's going to run you down," Puck said as he adjusted the seatbelt. Next to him, Quinn squirmed with discomfort. "Watch your back Wheels."
"I'll lead them on a merry chase," Artie said adjusting the dials on the dream machine, "don't worry about it."
"Just be back before the kick," Tina said with a soft smile, "you can't drop us without gravity."
"Are you ready?" Artie asked.
Kurt nodded as he pushed some space between him and Santana.
"See you on the other side," he said slapping the button.
They all collapsed into the next level, and Artie jumped out of the ride, wary of the projections circling the area.
The open area was the one disadvantage of the dream being in amusement park even if was perfectly logically in line with bringing forth the Brittany projection to interact with the mark.
Soon enough he'll hear the musical cue warning him about the jump but first he had to lure away the projections. Coming around the corner he spotted security at once, and purposely caught the eye of one to draw them away from his dreaming companions darted drawing their attention.
Just like Puck and predicted, they were gunning as hard as they could but he knew the perfect distraction. Ducking under through maze of rides he ran into the mirror funhouse. The gun shots that followed him told it worked, and he stared at the mirrors into his multiple reflections recalling the maze Tina had had drawn up.
There was shortcut nearby that he could use...
Glass smashed around him as the reflection of himself shattered in the hail of bullets.
Artie ducked around edge, and the reflections of the projections followed him.
Copies of himself chased ran alongside himself, as he went through the maze.
More glass flew into air as more bullets filled the air.
A projection jumped into a middle of lane, and Artie kicked the swinging bit of mirror. The mirror smashed with a rain of glass that sent him falling back a little harder than before.
Panting, he plucked the bit of glass out of arm, staring at the blood dripping out the wound. Grimacing, he ignored the pain as applied pressure to the wound. A blood trail was certainly given him away.
Time was running short.
Artie looked around trying to judge the reflections from the real thing, watching as the projections moved around him. If he had more time he have developed a more concrete plan, but there were too many things running around.
There was a projection crossing his path right now, gun drawn trying to sniff him out. Given the angle and poor light he wasn't sure if it was a reflection or not.
Je ne regrette rein…
Time's up.
Artie pushed himself against the mirror panel, and without a moment's hesitation took a grip of the dreamscape and shifted it slightly.
The panels of mirrors shifted as the world moved under his feet as the reflections realigned themselves.
Standing behind the projection, Artie reached out and grabbed him. The gun went off, but he angled it so like a domino effect the mirrors shattered all around them.
They fell back into the glass, a struggle that sent them rocketing through a few more mirrors as they both reached for the gun.
Then suddenly the world flew out from underneath his feet.
Barely registering the glass floating around him, he didn't hesitate and pulled and knocked out the projection.
No gravity. He missed the kick but he minutes until the van hit the water.
Turning over, he flipped like he was swinging in water, and exited the fun house.
Dodging the floating carnival structures, he made his way towards the tea cup ride.
The projections it seemed had vanished at this point leaning an obstacle course of carnival leftovers. Ducking a popcorn stand, he floated in the air staring at his companion strapped to the tea cup ride.
The plan was to blow up the area underneath the ride, but they would just float into the air if he did that now.
"How do I drop you without gravity?" he whispered to himself.
Unbidden his eyes fell on the drop tower, and recalled the effects were quite similar to an elevator.
Grabbing the bombs at the base, he opened them into a bag before he dragged the sleeping bodies.
It was a bit of a pickle, given the awkwardness of anti-gravity. But he managed to string them together with the cords coming from the dream machine. Ferrying them over to the drop tower he took time to settle each of them, keeping a running tally of the time as he worked efficiently. He attached them loosely to the frame, knowing when the bombs shook the structure the platform would rise giving a firmness to simulate a kick.
The only pause he took was when he started at the drop of blood coming from Quinn's mouth.
Not good.
But as he crouched along the rims of the tower listening to the musical cue, he tired to worry. They done this before, and if the plan didn't deviant to much more it would be no different. These thoughts he kept in mind as he ignited the bombs and the world started to tilt upwards.
