A.N: Look at me go! Two chapters in one week? I must be a mad woman!
Disclaimer: I don't own Inception or Codex Alera.
If I get on this plane and you don't honor our agreement… when we land, I go to jail for the rest of my life.
Complete the job en route… I make one phone call from the plane… you have no trouble getting through immigration.
That little conversation was all Cobb could think about while they boarded the 747. But as soon as Eames passed him Fischer's passport, having cleverly stolen it while making a nuisance of himself in the narrow aisle between their comfortable seats, Cobb had to stop thinking about the possibility of failure.
There was no room for failure.
That was one reason why Saito was staying out of sight, not even taking his seat on Arthur and Ariadne's side of the plane- it wasn't clear how Fischer would react if he were to spot Saito now.
Before, Arthur and Eames had argued the pros and cons of Fischer seeing Saito in first-class, but neither could come to an agreement. Saito had to be on the plane if he were to join them as the tourist, he had to be there to make the call for Cobb.
Saito had already warned them of Fischer's mixed feelings, how uncomfortable he was when forced to speak or look at the man he had so unfairly enslaved. It was finally agreed that it was better to spring Saito on him during the dream- that way there was a good chance Fischer might simply accept their client's presence in the dream.
For now, Saito stayed out of the way in the narrow, limited space where the flight attendant lurked, watching as she double-checked that the PASIV was safely locked away.
Cobb waited for the fasten seat belt sign to go dark before making contact with Fischer.
He reached over and politely tapped Fischer's arm, getting his attention and keeping it when he revealed the passport.
"Excuse me, I think this is yours?" Cobb was hoping to pass as a polite, fellow first-class passenger. "You must have dropped it."
He passed it over to Fischer who, before he could offer thanks (if any), was faced with the pretty flight attendant who had advised to approach them when the exchange was made. Cobb was hoping that Fischer was thirsty, otherwise slipping him the sedative was going to get tricky.
"Would you gentlemen care for a drink?"
Cobb asked for water, and after a moment, Fischer asked for the same.
"Um, thank you," Fischer finally said, polite but with all the distance of a man with something else on his mind.
Cobb leaned forwards in his seat. "You know, I couldn't help but notice, but you wouldn't happen to be related to the Maurice Fischer, would you?"
Fischer grew a little uncomfortable, perhaps because of the weight of grief and unresolved issues on his shoulders. He answered with a simple, "Yes, he was my father."
Offer your condolences- not too profuse, nothing over the top, Cobb thought to himself. Just one nameless business man on the same flight, just saying what etiquette demands.
The flight attendant arrived with their drinks, serving Cobb first so he could dose Fischer's with the sedative he'd hidden from view with his hand. Once he'd finished spiking it, Cobb handed the water to Fischer.
But, before Fischer could put it down, Cobb thought that he needed a little nudge to actually take a drink- another unspoken rule of etiquette said that it would be polite to drink to a toast (especially if it was about one's dead father).
So Cobb made the toast, clinked glasses with Fischer, and watched as the man took a sip of water before turning away in his seat.
It was boring to watch their mark slowly slip into what might be sleep, but would hopefully be the sedative starting to take effect. When Cobb stood up and opened the overhead compartment, he pointedly dropped a plastic wrapped article of clothing, maybe a shirt or a coat. It fell on Fischer, who didn't move an inch. Cobb double checked; he grasped Fischer's arm and shook it vigorously.
Their mark was out cold.
His team, already watching him for the sign, stopped doing busy work or reading magazines.
They sprang into action! Saito emerged, leading the flight attendant carrying the PASIV, as the others began to roll up their sleeves and expose their forearms, ready to secure their lines.
Seats were set to a reclined position, lines of tubing trailed from the PASIV set in the center of the vague circle their chairs made. Yusuf took one last drink of the complimentary champagne in his glass before setting it aside and nodding to the flight attendant.
She took a breath and pressed the button at the PASIV's center; the machine made a hissing noise as the Somnacin flooded the IV lines and sent each team member to sleep.
"Just get it over with," Yusuf said miserably from his spot underneath a tree, forcing the branches and leaves to shift and come more closely together, shielding himself from the torrents of rain the fell from the sky. He hugged the PASIV case to his chest.
"You couldn't have peed before you went under?" Arthur asked as Yusuf hopped into their stolen coach.
"Sorry," Yusuf said as he ran a hand through his sodden hair, grimacing.
"Bit too much free champagne before takeoff, eh Yusuf?" Eames added, nudging Arthur in the side and trading a smile with him. The forger and point man were seated close together on a comfortable, cushioned seat.
"Ha, ha, bloody ha," Yusuf grumbled, leaning back against his spot in the carriage, peeking out the open windows.
The passing Aleran projections bowed their heads against the heavy rain. Cloaked and hooded, these pedestrians bustled down the fury-crafted streets, entering businesses and wine clubs just to get a short reprieve from the weather.
Wearing nondescript colors that didn't identify them as being a part of any particular noble house, the team could fit in just fine with the passing projections if they wanted to pass for laborers, craftsmen, or less affluent merchants. The point was for them not to be memorable. They had to go unnoticed.
To outside observers, Cobb was nothing more than a tired coach driver wearing a heavy brown cloak and large brimmed hat, looking for a spot to park and get out of the rain. From inside the carriage, they could hear Cobb whisper. Arthur had one hand outside the open window, his attention focused on using his windcrafting to pick up the sound of Cobb's voice and magnify it so they could hear him over the rain.
"We know that he's gonna be looking for a coach in this weather," Cobb said, his voice sounding much closer than it actually was. "Let's go and get another coach…"
He made a soft clicking sound with his tongue against his teeth to urge the horses to continue forwards. Soon they were rolling at a good speed with few carriages on the road with them…until they spotted another coach!
With his feet off the ground, Cobb couldn't use this earthcrafting the way he'd like to. He couldn't call up strength from the earth and he couldn't scare the horses. His firecrafting would be null with all this rain…he had to think outside the box. Finally, it came to him!
"Great Furies," Cobb roared, as if he were just an angry coach driver stuck behind some idiot! "Can't you speed it along? Some of us have important fares to transport!"
While it wasn't furycrafting, the insult worked how Cobb wanted it to.
The other driver stopped his horses, speaking reassuring words to them before slipping off his seat and hitting the ground, flatfooted and angry. Once he spotted Cobb, his mouth twisted into an ugly grin with too few teeth.
"You slive! Why don't you try to-?" said the other driver as he reached for something at his side.
Upon closer inspection, Cobb found that it was a leather sap.
The extractor opened his cloak and reached for his sword, pulling it out a few inches from its scabbard, flashing steel at the angry driver.
"Walk away," Cobb commanded, wishing he could infuse his voice with the power of his firecrafting. Don't mess with me, Cobb thought instead. I could be your worst nightmare. And if that doesn't work, I have someone in my coach who would be even scarier! He'd love it if you fucking mocked his dimples!
Thankfully, the driver didn't challenge Cobb. The man skittered off, too scared to bother fighting for his honor or his means of employment.
He also dropped his leather sap into the street.
As soon as he was out of sight, Arthur and Eames jumped out of the carriage and moved to steal the one that had been abandoned. Thankfully the other driver hadn't been carrying any passengers.
Arthur softly spoke to the horses, gentling them with his earthcrafting, soothing the beasts into accepting an unfamiliar person as their handler. The point man, still hooded in a black cloak, his leather armor squeaking as it was exposed to more water, jumped onto the coach driver's seat and, once Eames was safely hidden in the carriage, drove off with a snap of the reins!
In the confusion, Ariadne appeared on the street. Looking like a waif in her sodden skirts, her hair plastered to her head, Ariadne spotted Cobb in the driver's seat and ran to the coach. As soon as she was safely inside, Cobb began driving the coach once more, trying to catch up to Arthur.
"Hey," she said, brushing at her skirts, noticing that Yusuf was sitting very quietly and pointedly not looking at the amount of bare skin her Aleran costume was showing. She readjusted her skirts so they covered her legs. "You couldn't have dreamed me into pants?"
The chemist coughed, muttering and fiddling with the PASIV case he'd manifested with at the start of the dream. "I did as much research as you- the women didn't typically wear trousers…unless they were in specific trades or something."
Ariadne rolled her eyes and let the issue drop. "Have we spotted Fischer or Saito?"
The rain continued to pour down and instead of getting an answer she wanted, they almost got hit by a freight train.
Arthur didn't speak horse, but through his crafting he could get a pretty good feeling about how these animals were doing, their strength, and their temperament. These were sweet natured, tired horses.
He was almost surprised when he spotted a cloaked man waving to him from the corner, asking that he stop his coach.
It was Fischer, but he wasn't alone. Off to the side, but not too far away, was Saito.
Arthur windcrafted a message to Eames, who was using his woodcrafting to hide within the coach.
"Get ready for company, Mr. Eames."
Fischer, dressed conservatively and pretending to not be a member of the royal family or the next First Lord of Alera, waited on the corner while Saito, his discipline collar visible over the neckline of his thin tunic and not hidden by his cloak, opened the door of the coach for him.
The mark appeared uncomfortable when Saito offered him a hand up into the coach. He avoided touching Saito and instead pulled himself into the carriage under his own power and seated himself.
Before he could rattle off his destination to Arthur, Eames pulled the carriage door closest to him open and then slammed it shut, dropping his woodcrafting to make it appear as if he had only just entered the coach.
Eames beat one fist against the roof of the carriage, loud enough for Arthur to hear, calling out the window to him.
"Driver, take me to the nearest gaming parlor!"
Fischer looked upon Eames like something he had found underneath one of his boots. Saito was studiously pretending to be invisible, though Eames could have sworn he caught the barest hint of a smile from their client.
"What are you doing?" Fischer demanded, looking haughty and self-entitled. He was also quite upset! And using his watercrafting, Eames was doubly certain of that!
Eames put on a sunny smile and shrugged, adjusting the damp cloak that clung too tightly to his broad shoulders. "I'm sorry, I thought it was free."
"It's not!"
"Maybe we could share?" Eames said, trying to be reasonable with the young Princeps pretending to be some High Lord's heir.
Arthur was already urging the horses to continue forwards. Despite being tired, the horses' pace quickened to a steady and enduring clip-clop-clip-clop that even Fischer could hear over the sound of his argument with Eames.
"Maybe not," Fischer ground out, calling to Arthur to try and make him stop the coach. "Can you pull over and get this-?"
Eames shifted his cloak aside and grasped the wickedly sharp dagger he had sheathed at his hip.
Once Fischer saw it, he stopped moving. Eames smiled at him, shrugging a little as Arthur forced the horses to run faster. Saito remained where he was, not defending or attacking Fischer.
"Great Furies," Fischer swore to himself, leaning back in his seat. He dug at his belt and dropped a large purse bulging with coins onto the seat next to Eames. "There's five hundred in golden crowns, gold eagles, and silver bulls. The purse is worth more than that, so you might at least drop me at my stop."
Eames was about to reply. Something along the lines of, 'I'm afraid that it doesn't work that way.'
He only got through, "I'm afraid that it doesn't work-" before someone tried to shoot him full of arrows.
Eames grunted and waved one hand, using his woodcrafting to force the arrows to change their shape, playing all sorts of havoc with the archer's accuracy.
Of course, if this archer happened to be a talented woodcrafter, there wouldn't be much that Eames could do to stop every arrow shot his way.
He had a sudden spike of fear for Arthur. The point man didn't have any woodcrafting to help divert the arrows.
"Darling!"
"I'm okay," Arthur said, keeping a firm hold on the horses' reins, mastering them and forcing them to continue forwards. From his position he could spot at least two, no three archers from the street.
They were reloading and aiming for the point man, pulling the strings back on their powerful war bows, ready to knock a few new holes in him.
If any of those archers were the grade of a Knight Flora, Arthur didn't have a chance in hell.
Arthur forced himself to not worry about this; the most important thing he had to do now was get them out of here alive.
He yelled to the horses, calling on his wind fury at just the right time, using a small gale force wind to knock two of the three arrows sent his way off course.
The third zipped, bent, and turned till it found an opening within the carriage. If it hit anyone, Arthur couldn't tell.
"Eames, cover him!"
Another round of arrows struck their coach as two more coaches came to block Arthur's path. More projections spilled from them ready to fight with more than just bows and arrows.
There were knives, swords, and mauls!
Inside the coach, Eames had forced Fischer to get down and cover his head. From what he could remember, Fischer's crafting abilities weren't all that great- all he could manage was some metal and earthcrafting, neither of which could help him right now.
Judging that the coast was as clear as it was going to be, Eames forced Fischer to remain as far out of the way as possible so he could force the leather curtain out of the way on the rear window and peeked out at his adversaries.
Stuck in the pouring rain, the men behind the carriage must have thought that they were safe from harm. Eames smiled to himself and called to his water fury.
"Bless Yusuf for the piss rain," Eames said as he reached his hand out and directed his fury to attack not one man, but all of them.
He felt his senses extend outward through the falling rain, to where it collected in the streets in a fine sheet. At his urging, his fury went through the water, spreading out until there was enough for what Eames intended…and then, she rose up like a wave directed by the forward thrust of Eames's hand. The men were surprised by the sudden movement of the water, but they were more surprised when the water that splashed onto them; that the water that got into their eyes and their mouths didn't just drip away, but clung there like glue. His fury was in the water, forcing it deep into their lungs. Eames watched in satisfaction as the men clawed at their faces, at the frothing water covering their mouths and blinding their eyes.
Soon the men collapsed, writhing, twitching and suffocating next to the weapons they let drop to the ground. Their emotions were horrific; desperate, silent screams of pain and fear reached Eames through the bond he shared with his fury. Thankfully he had enough metalcrafting to stand up to such an assault without curling up into the fetal position so he could rock and cry. Other watercrafters he'd run into during his time with the military hadn't been so lucky once disaster struck.
The men blacked out and then soon after, they died.
Releasing a deep breath and drawing another in, just for the pleasure of it, Eames released the crafting and called his fury back to him.
The freight train skidded by, hitting projections, hitting coaches, and making a very big mess.
It was blocking their path.
"That wasn't in the design," Ariadne said, looking out the open carriage window in shock.
Yusuf was huddled up alongside her, holding onto the PASIV with a tight grip. He was also looking out the window.
"Its- that's a bloody train!"
Cobb silently stared at it as it went past them.
"Cobb!" Ariadne called to him. "Cobb!"
Arthur must have found a way around his obstacle- they were moving fast down the street, taking swift turns, running as if malevolent furies were chasing them!
Eames got back into a seated position and caught the sound of Arthur's voice, projected by a windcrafting.
"Are you alright?"
Eames nodded and said, "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay." He checked on Fischer, who was still curled up on the floor of the coach, probably eyeing all the sharp arrow heads stuck through the wooden body of the coach that he had narrowly avoided getting hit by or accidentally getting slammed into during the rough ride.
"Fischer's okay, unless he gets-," Eames paused, thinking about it. "Would we call it coach sick? Or carriage sick?"
"Saito?" Arthur asked next, ignoring Eames's question.
Eames looked over to where Saito had been sitting, crouched as well as he could to protect himself. The forger's eyes widened once he caught sight of the blood staining Saito's shirt, his chest.
There was an arrow sticking out of his chest and Saito was clutching at it with one hand, his breathing labored and brow sticky with sweat.
"Oh no," Eames said to himself.
They got to the waterfront and made it safely to their warehouse.
Eames jumped out and forced the large door open, allowing more than enough space for the carriages to enter.
Cobb hopped off of his driver's seat and immediately went to Arthur's coach.
"Get Fischer into the back room now," Cobb was shouting, barely noticing how Yusuf trailed after him, helping him relocate the mark. It appeared that Eames managed to cover Fischer's head with a sack. "Get him in the back room. Move!"
Arthur jumped from his spot on the coach, ripping the dark hood off of his head.
"What in the hell happened?" He forced the door to the other carriage open and dragged Saito outside of it, trying to not touch the wound or the arrow sticking out of the man's chest.
"Has he been-," Cobb stopped himself from saying something stupid. He took a deep breath and rephrased himself. "He's been shot." He turned to Arthur for his professional opinion as a watercrafter. "Is he dying?"
Arthur was pressing his fingers as close to the wound as he could, hearing how Saito groaned in pain and seeing the blood covering his fingers like garish paint.
Eyes now closed, Arthur used his fury to examine Saito's injury. He bit his lip and shook his head. "I don't know."
Cobb swore, "Jesus Christ."
Arthur helped Saito lay down on the ground- he was still searching for something… there was something strange about this wound.
"Where were you?" He asked Cobb. "What happened to you?"
Cobb forced himself to his feet, ripping the hat off his head and dropping it to the ground so he could run his fingers through his hair.
"Blocked by a freight train," was all the extractor said.
Perplexed, Arthur's eyes snapped open and he shot a look at Ariadne. "Why would you put a train crossing in a downtown intersection?" He shook his head. "Why would you put a train crossing in a dreamscape that doesn't have trains?!"
Ariadne got out of Cobb's coach and defiantly said, "I didn't."
"Where did it come from?" Arthur asked, relentless.
Cobb's proverbial hackles rose up at Arthur's tone, at his persistence. "Well, let me ask you a question! Why the hell were we ambushed, huh? Those were not normal projections. They'd been trained, for God's sakes!"
"You're right," Arthur agreed.
"But how could they've been trained?" Ariadne asked, shocked and still rattled by all the violence she'd seen so far.
Still kneeling on the ground next to Saito, Arthur began to explain for her. "Fischer's had an extractor teach his subconscious to defend itself. He's militarized."
Now Arthur looked up at Cobb, gesturing with one hand, a wordless mea culpa. "It should have shown in the research. I'm sorry."
"Why the hell didn't it?" Cobb shouted down at the still kneeling point man.
"Calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down!" Cobb shouted again. "This was your job, goddamn it! This was your responsibility!" As Arthur stood up, ready to face Cobb, the extractor pointed his finger in Arthur's face and continued to shout. "You were meant to check Fischer's background thoroughly! We are not prepared for this type of violence!"
Cobb began to march away and Arthur followed. His frown of annoyance at being publicly upbraided swiftly changed to a look of anger.
"We have dealt with sub-security before! We'll be a little more careful and we're gonna be fine! And, in case you didn't notice? Furycrafting isn't all that common! So far we haven't seen any projections capable of furycraft!"
Yusuf was running along, Eames at his heels. The forger was pulling out his dagger, ready and willing to be the one to do the mercy killing. Neither of the arguing men had noticed him yet.
"This was not a part of the plan! He's dying!"
"Well put him out of his misery then," Eames said, getting ready to kneel before the still living but horribly wounded Saito and to do what was fair to him. He already had the dagger free from its sheath.
When Cobb spotted it he crowded the forger against one of the carriages and forced him to drop the blade, saying, "No, don't do that! Don't do that!"
"Cobb, hey, hey!" Eames said trying to infuse his voice with the earthcrafting Cobb clearly needed to come down from his completely overblown fit. And after the extractor was calm, Eames kind of wanted to hurt him for being so cruel to Arthur. Arthur, who does everything for him. Arthur, who was willing to chase him around the globe when the extractor's life went to pieces!
"Saito is in agony and I'm waking him up!"
Best argument for the situation, kind of hard to be against it unless you're crazy like Cobb, Eames thought to himself.
Breathing heavily and maybe getting some of the earthcrafting Eames had thrown his way, Cobb became less angry. When he spoke next, he almost sounded reasonable. It was a shame because he still wasn't making sense. They always woke up in a dream when they died. It was like the sky being blue and the grass being green. "No, it won't wake him up," Cobb explained.
Before Eames could make his argument, Yusuf was shaking his head. "Not from this, Eames. We're too heavily sedated to wake up that way."
It took a minor flexing of Eames's metalcrafting; Cobb may have knocked away his dagger, but that didn't mean Eames wasn't carrying another on his person. He pressed his fingers against the throwing knife secured to his arm, pressing down on the metal beneath his cloak and heavy shirt so he could enjoy that cool and calm space of thinking where he could push away emotion and fear and worry to think about something more important- like choking Cobb with Fischer's purse strings.
Then he let it go.
"Right. So what happens when we die?"
"We drop into Limbo."
If Arthur had been calling on his metalcrafting for calm, too, he let it go when he heard those words. "Are you serious?" Arthur demanded looking and sounding like he might want to join Eames's 'let's kill Cobb' party.
"Limbo?" Ariadne asked, trying not to freak out, but not doing so well. "We better not be talking about that stupid dance!"
Arthur almost smiled at her very lame joke. "It's unconstructed dream space."
"What the hell is down there?" She asked, looking from Arthur to Cobb.
"It's just raw, infinite subconscious," Arthur said, glaring daggers into Cobb's back. "Nothing is down there, except for what might have been left behind by anyone sharing the dream who's been trapped there before. Which, in our case, is just you."
Arthur would have said something else, but stopped himself. He took a deep, calming breath and turned to Eames.
"Help me carry Saito to upstairs, I need to see how much damage has been done."
Eames nodded shortly, looking like he would really like to say something to Cobb, but stopped himself. There was always later. And if they all died on the first level, they'd have all that unconstructed dream space and infinite amounts of time to share their feelings with Cobb.