Eames grabbed the kid by the shoulder as he was about to enter the main room of the warehouse.
"Ok, this room is off limits," he stated, steering the kid to one of the old storerooms.
"Why?" the kid asked. "You running a secret drug ring?"
Something like that, Eames thought, shoving the kid through the door of the storeroom.
"Well, there's some paint and spray cans in here, your mom said you like defecating public property right? Well here you can go wild, do whatever you want," Eames said boredly, closing the door behind him.
Making his way back to the warehouse Eames was greeted by strange looks and smirks.
"Care to explain?" Cobb queried, eyeing Eames suspiciously.
"Wrong address," Eames replied calmly, sitting back down by the mirror.
Hours passed, Eames had finally cracked the grandfather and Cobb was very pleased. Ariadne had gone to get some supplies for the model of a level she was building and Arthur was clicking away on his dinky little laptop.
Eames had packed away his things when Ariadne returned from getting her supplies, a puzzled expression on her face.
"Did someone go into the storeroom?" she asked everyone.
"Why?" Cobb asked, standing up.
"Oh no reason just that the door was open when I got there and someone had spray painted the walls," she replied, calm yet confused.
A loud cry from a door on the other side of the warehouse attracted everyone's attention.
"I knew it! You are running a drug ring!" the kid cried, turning and running the other way.
Eames cursed as he and Cobb chased after him.
"Who the hell was that?" Cobb exclaimed, dropping behind as Eames's feet pounded across the floor.
"I'll explain later," Eames called back, now a fair distance ahead of Cobb. Eames leaped down the stairs, and as he ran out the front door he caught the back of the kid's hoodie, heaving him back inside, quickly checking that no one had seen.
The kid struggled, but Eames had a slight height and weight advantage and heaved him slowly, but surely back up to the warehouse main room.
Placing him on his own recliner, Eames pinned the kid's arms to his sides. The kid struggled relentlessly, and Eames sighed.
"I'm going to start by asking you very nicely to calm down," Eames said calmly, annoyed as the kid continued to thrash.
"Arthur, mind bringing the PASIV?" he asked the Point Man who was standing behind him along with Ariadne and Cobb.
Arthur brought the silver case over and set it down by the recliner.
"What the hell are you doing?" the kid cried out, struggling to get free as Eames prepped the needle.
Once the kids was plugged in and had stopped thrashing Eames let go, and plugged himself in.
They were standing in an art gallery, Eames could see the kid a few metres away, looking at an abstract piece of bright red, black and gold paint splashed haphazardly across the canvas. The kid was cleaned up, and wearing a white shirt, black tie and pants.
"Interesting piece," Eames said nonchalantly.
The kid didn't look at him and continued to look at the piece.
Eames glanced at the tag.
Abandoned
Jason Cook
Glancing at the kid Eames noticed that he wasn't actually looking at the piece, but rather gazing blankly at the floor.
Eames tapped him on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow Eames outside.
Once outside Eames watched in disapproval as the kid took out and lit a cigarette.
"You know those are terrible for your lungs right?" Eames asked, not slightly put off by the lack of response. "Have you ever heard of dream sharing?" he enquired, leaning over the balcony.
"You mean that failed military program?" the kid asked, blowing out a puff of smoke.
"Yeah, that one," Eames replied. "Do you know what happened to it?"
The kid shot him a sideways look. "Didn't it just die out?" he asked, turning to face Eames.
Eames noticed him taking in Eames's movements.
"What are you doing?" Eames asked, watching the kid's back stiffen as he turned away. "Dream sharing didn't just die out; it became a whole new breed of illicit activity,"
"How?" the kid asked, taking another puff from the cigarette.
"People like me create a world for a subject, the subject fills the world with their secrets, and we steal them. Simple," Eames explained, using the same explanation Cobb always used. Come to think of it Cobb was usually the one explaining things to new recruits. Though, the kid was not a new recruit. He was a nuisance, a nuisance that Eames needed to deal with quickly.
"Are you saying..." the kid looked around, watching the people around him carefully.
"Yeah," Eames said, picking up a glass of whiskey from a tray nearby and taking a swig. "We're in a dream. My dream to be exact,"
The kid looked down at his cigarette suspiciously.
"Yeah, those things aren't great for you in here either," Eames said a bit quieter, noticing that a few people were staring.
The kid dropped the cigarette to the floor and put it out with the heel of his shoe.
"So what exactly do you do?" he asked, watching a lady in a red dress go past.
"I'm what's known as a Forger," Eames replied, smirking as the kid continued to watch her. "And I'd stay away from her; she's one of my best impressions,"
The kid looked at Eames pointedly. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.
"It means, kid, that if there's a subject who's particularly fond of a beautiful woman then I become her as a means of extracting information," Eames explained.
The kid looked deep in thought.
"Can you do anyone?" he asked.
Eames nodded. "If I study them properly, then sure. Anyone,"
"How?" the kid asked, now looking genuinely interested, which made Eames chuckle.
"I'm afraid that's classified," Eames replied, setting his glass down on a table.
The kid rolled his eyes and started to walk away.
"But, if you want to know more, then you'll need to trust me," Eames continued, looking out across the city. It was night, and the lights from buildings spread out around them like a sea of stars. The building was impossibly high, and looking up Eames saw that it extended far into the clouds.
"I don't do trust," the kid replied coldly. More of Eames's projections were glancing their way, and the kid was making too much noise. Eames noticed that a few members of the gallery's security were looking their way, hands on the small black guns in their pockets.
"Look kid, if you don't trust me you're going to get shot, so I'm asking you to just co-operate," Eames said under his breath, carefully watching his projections as they slowly edged closer to them.
The kid was looking wary now, and backed slowly away so he was now next to Eames, elbows resting on the balcony.
"What do we do then?" the kid asked quietly, eyes watching the projections carefully. Eames watched as one of the waitresses slowly wrapped her fingers around a serving knife.
"Now," Eames began. "We jump,"
The kid watched in disbelief as Eames heaved himself over the balcony, and fell quickly, down, down, down.
The kid shut his eyes, not wanting to see.
Now that Eames was gone the people were approaching fast. Some had knives, some had forks, and the security guards had their guns out and were loading in clips.
Jason felt his breathing hitch. He didn't want to die, not even in a dream, but he didn't want to just leap off the balcony of a building that was above the clouds.
He'd never been good at making split second decisions, and now the pressure was on. Watching the people approaching menacingly he backed into the balcony. As a person with a long bread knife in hand ran towards him he heaved himself over the balcony, screaming as he fell.
Jason's eyes opened as he coughed violently, trying to figure out how he'd gone from falling from a building to lying on a recliner chair.
Looking around he saw his mom's "friend" sitting across from him, watching him expectantly. Standing around the room were three other people. A stocky man with short dirty blonde hair stood by the door, hands in his pockets. A tall, lanky man with greased black hair stood by the silver case, smirking not so subtly. At the back of the room was a young woman who was making something out of boards of plywood.
Eames leaned over and took the needle out of the kid's arm. He looked dazed, and incredibly confused, which made Eames very happy.
"Are you going to run away again or can we relax?" Cobb called out to him, blocking the doorway with his body. The kid slowly sat up and shook his head.
"What exactly happened?" he asked shakily. Eames could see that his hands were shaking slightly and his back was hunched over protectively.
"When you fall in a dream you always wake up right before you hit the ground right?" Eames explained, observing how the kid's eyes were wide like a toddler's, taking in the words and surroundings.
The kid stood up slowly, trying not to fall over.
"Take it easy mate, first time dream sharing is never easy," Eames said, standing in front of the kid and pushing him back into his recliner.
Glaring up at him the kid obliged. Eames walked over to Cobb, who was still glaring daggers at him.
Cobb walked silently into the hallway, Eames following obediently.
"Well, care to explain?" Cobb demanded, staring impatiently at Eames.
"A woman from my past turned up and asked me to babysit her kid while she looks for a job," he explained. Cobb looked like he wanted to ask something else, but didn't.
"Well, now that he knows what we do, and I'm assuming you informed him, what are we supposed to do with him?" Cobb demanded. Eames ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath he'd been holding in.
"Leave him to me, I've pretty much got gramps down to pat, so I'll take care of him over the week," Eames conceded, not so happy that his week was lost.
"You'd better, if he leaks this sort of info we're dead," Cobb threatened, eyes dark and menacing. As Eames started walking away Cobb grabbed his collar. "Dead," he emphasised.
Eames smiled lopsidedly.
"What are you worried about Dom, it's nothing I can't handle," he said shrugging and going back into the main room.