There's some German and a pinch of Polish in this chapter, and it didn't seem right to just translate it in the sentence after. But I did translate all the important things. There were a few moments when I freted about sounding too...judgemental. If it comes off that way, I don't mean a word of it.
For Efcia, Jedi Knight Bus, and CaramelFrapuccinoNCIS (I can't type the period. Sorry!). I write for people exactly like you. :]
Elliesmeow - I hope you're feeling better! Let this be a small consolation.
"A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal." - Oscar Wilde
The valet stiffened as the Volkswagen Passat rolled up to the Hotel Landgasthof Fischer. He was here again, Franz Amsel, and it would be nonstop complaints and vocal disappointments until he left. Apparently he was friendly with the owner, some big important CEO from Los Angeles, and his stays were free, so he felt it prudent to take as many as he liked.
Das Polak Teig Bengel…The Polish Dough Boy. The valet smirked. He certainly looked like he was made of it, and had enough to stuff his pockets, too.
Amsel walked by, as stocky and well dressed as ever, flanked by two bodyguards who stared at the valet with menace before he shut the door.
"Das Fleisch ist gut mit Teig, nein?"A voice said from behind him and he smiled at the British man's accent.
"Tatsächlich."
"Ich glaube, er sank dieser." A roll of bills entered his vision and he grinned, taking it with a nod. The sooner Amsel was gone, the better.
"Ja, sieht aus wie es."
"Are we all clear to go?"
"Ja." Eames smiled broadly and clapped the man on the back.
"Good lad." He turned to the side and whistled, and three huddled figures soon rushed themselves into the hotel.
There was a knock at the door. Amsel huffed and wiped at his brow before checking his watch.
Było wcześnie…
Putting on a fake, plastic smile, he opened the door.
"You're earlier than usual, my friend. Now, how much do I owe this time—?" He stopped dead at the solemn, serious look on faces too young to have learned them.
"Dzień dobry, pannie Amsel." A man with a British accent and sly eyes smiled and then, Amsel felt a deep, resounding pang in his chest, familiar from twice before, then knew only blackness.
"Is he out?" Arthur asked as Yusuf huddled over the unconscious man.
"Yes, I think he is—"
"Was mascht du? What are you doing?" A low voice growled, and the team looked up to the barrel of a gun, pointed by a burly man who was not quite 50, but looking every minute of it.
"One of Amsel's bodyguards." Brer muttered.
"You think?" Arthur hissed, reaching for his gun.
"Hands up!" The group all raised their hands.
"We were passing by and heard a shout…I fear Herr Amsel has suffered a heart attack." Yusuf said frantically to the guard. "Ein Herzinfarkt."
The guard started towards his employer. In a split second, Arthur brought his gun from behind his back and hit the butt across the back of the man's head and then the guard too lay prone on the ground.
"That was too easy—" Eames began uncertainly, and they all turned at a sudden choking sound. The second bodyguard had appeared in the threshold, with Ariadne in a chokehold.
"Legte das Gewehr oder sie stirbt." The guard said bluntly, raising his gun to Ariadne's head, and then took in the team and their blank expressions.
"Wir sprechen nicht Deutsch. Nein Deutsch." Arthur said calmly, his eyes darting from Ariadne to the bodyguard.
"Put the gun down, or she dies." The guard said in heavily accented English.
"Of course this happens…" Brer muttered.
"Put it down! Now!"
"Fine." Arthur said lowly. The guard turned the gun off Ariadne, to them.
"Who are you?"
"Tourists. Herr Amsel has had a heart attack—" Yusuf began again, but was silenced as the gun turned to him.
"Quiet! If you are tourists, what did you do to him?" He indicated the other guard and the group looked at each other, each one struggling to come up with an excuse.
"He had a heart attack too." Brer deadpanned, and the guard looked at him as if to determine whether he was joking or not.
"You will pick up the phone. You will call the police, and get Herr Amsel to a hospital. Then, we will deal with you—"
"No, I don't think that would work at all." Brer said calmly, pulling out his gun in a flash, and shot the guard in the knee. He howled in pain and the gun fell from his hand. Ariadne ducked out of his grip and moved for it, but he pulled a knife from his belt, slashing at her and catching her in the face. Arthur leapt forward at the sight of blood dripping from her face and shoved her behind him. In a dazed pain, the guard lunged forward sloppily with his knife, but Arthur deflected it away and knocked it out of his grasp in a series of deft, quick moves, and twisted the guard's arm behind his back. He howled in pain and kicked out, catching Arthur behind the knees and Arthur fell to the floor.
The guard lunged out with his right hand, but Ariadne stepped over Arthur and blocked it then struck out with her other hand, catching him with a punch to his throat, then a swift kick to his abdomen. He fell to the ground, gasping for air, and she straightened up, breathing heavily.
"Whoa." She turned to the group, her head humming with adrenaline.
"What?" She asked, helping Arthur up off the floor.
"What the hell was that?" Eames asked, as they all stared in surprise at the man writhing on the floor.
"Oh…my college offered martial arts classe… but I only went to one lesson…" Eames whistled and Arthur knelt beside the two guards, quickly injecting one of Yusuf's sedatives into each of them.
"That must've been one hell of a good lesson. Look at him, she kicked his arse!" Eames said giddily, and Arthur stood, ripping a length of fabric from the drapes and handed it to Ariadne.
"Come on, we have to get you and Amsel out of here. Keep that to your face so no one will see and start a panic." Arthur said, taking her under his arm and leading her through the hallway.
"No, because an unconscious billionaire is just common hat around here." Eames said dryly, before delivering a final parting kick to the guard and then they left, Yusuf dragging Amsel out behind them.
"Are we always going to do this in a warehouse?" Ariadne asked, holding the stained cloth to her face as she followed Arthur into a cluttered side room. She could hear Eames in the other room, muttering about having to carry Amsel in from the car.
"For now, it'll have to do." Arthur said as he swiped an assortment of junk off a tabletop and motioned for her to sit. "Let me see it." She lowered the cloth and didn't miss the gleam of dark anger in his eyes.
"Tell me, doctor, will I live?" A glimpse of a smile passed on Arthur's face before it disappeared under a mask of calm.
"It looks like he got the bridge of your nose and some of your cheek. I don't think it will scar, though. We're going to have to disinfect it though."
"Shit…"
"Ah." He pointed the cotton swab at her. "Language, young lady." He dabbed antiseptic on it and turned to her. "This will only hurt…well, a lot. No use sugar coating it." And with that, he pressed the swab to her cheek.
A loud yell echoed through the empty warehouse.
"Either they're finally getting kinky or Ariadne's wishing she were dead right about now." Eames said wryly.
"I HEARD THAT!" Ariadne yelled.
"I said it loud, love!" Eames shouted back, before turning to Yusuf. "How's our little Teig Bengel?"
"He's holding up." Yusuf said, packing his stethoscope away. "The sedative is secreting hormones that will trick his body into thinking he's having a heart attack, but he shouldn't suffer any actual damage other than slight amnesia."
"Well, that wouldn't be the worst thing…who do you think Amsel was expecting? The valet we bribed said a man always visited him every Saturday morning and left before noon."
"I don't think we'll ever know." Yusuf sighed.
"Maybe Amsel's a poof." Eames offered.
"No." Brer spoke up from where he was leaning in the shadows. "Even if he was, 15 minutes to get the job done?" Eames seemed to consider his words.
"Point taken. So we all agree, he's not a poof. Or at least not an efficient one. Maybe it's a business partner?"
"That's plausible…but what business could he have when he's on vacation?"
"Eames, don't waste your time on something you'll never know." Yusuf said prudently. Eames shrugged, taking a bite of his apple.
"I'm going to go make sure Ariadne hasn't bled to death under Nurse Arthur's care."
"Do you think they'll miss the drapes?" Ariadne asked as Arthur dug through the various items in Yusuf's bag.
"Hm? Those eyesores? No, I wouldn't think so."
"So do you consider everything an eyesore if it's not brushed metal or modernly decorated or are there other things?"
"No, I'd say that's pretty much it. Although I do like a checkerboard pattern now and then."
"Ah, yes, wouldn't want to get too wild."
"That's enough mouth out of you." He said, finally finding the bottle he was searching for. "Close your eyes." She did, and flinched as the cold gel touched her skin. Arthur rubbed it on gently, careful of the open wound. "Alright soldier, you're all bandaged up. And please, for my sake, I don't ever want to do this again."
"Am I that bad?" She joked.
"No, you're…you're quite nice, but I don't think I can handle your blood on my hands. Literally."
"Arthur, that wasn't your fault—"
"I promised Cobb that I would protect you."
"In fact, I—what?"
"When he left, he knew you'd be back, that somehow I'd—we'd see you again. And he told me to protect you, because god knows we left you high and dry."
"Arthur, you know that's not humanly possible. You can't protect me all the time. Our job runs that risk, and I agreed to take it. I hate to say it, but this probably won't be my only scar when I'm through with Inception."
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I can't protect you all the time, but that won't stop me from trying."
"Arthur, you're not by bodyguard. I have no right to ask you to put yourself in harm's way for me—"
"I don't mind…" He leaned in, feeling the familiar ache of being so close to her, and knowing that somehow, something would interrupt them. Her breath smelled like sweet lime, the gum she always kept in her pocket.
The sound of footsteps, then the door banged open and they jumped apart as if they'd been shocked.
"Oi, ladies, we're ready!" Eames said, grinning as if he knew exactly what he had interrupted.