She followed Arthur into the abandoned warehouse. He told her that for the next two to three months this was where they would spend the majority of their time. He explained to her each role that they would all have to play. She was to be the new Architect.
"What happened to the old one?"
"A college degree. Are you in or not?"
He'd been more than a little peeved about the question. Army thought that maybe the previous Architect had been something of a love interest. She knew with all the time she'd be spending with him she'd weasel the answer out of him eventually. He was like her, closed up.
The warehouse housed nothing spectacular, a few chairs, Formica tables. However, amidst it all there was a suitcase. The PASIV device Arthur had mentioned? Sitting in one of the chairs was a man. From his stance, from the way that he watched her brother, Army was certain that it was Cobb. His eyes were a hard blue and his hair a darkening blond, combed back severely. His lips were stern but she could see laugh lines in the corners. He'd been happy once or at least he'd been happier before he'd arrived. She watched him with civilian eyes, if only to be fair to Arthur. It wouldn't help if she looked at him with killer eyes, if she noted that he was right-handed, his left leg more favored than the right. She cursed inwardly, forcing herself to look at him with normal preconceptions. He was her new boss, end of story.
Cobb gestured to the other chairs. "Please, sit." She almost winced as her mind placed the area he was most likely to have come from. She placed him in America, probably out west.
She sat down. Arthur began setting up the PASIV. Back at the apartment he'd explained to her the cool sensation that would pass through her arm, the sedative. He'd talked to her about the Projections, their hostility at awkward changes in the dream environment. She stored the information, nodding as he spoke. She'd smeared icing on his face after he'd finished explaining the importance of not thinking too hard on one's own thoughts. He hadn't smiled, so it was something that was either serious or he was too old for icing. She thought it was the former.
"I'm sure that your previous area of expertise required various escape routes, hideouts, yes?"
"Sure, yes. When I finish the job, I gotta leave."
Cobb stood up and gestured to one of the tables. She moved until she was at his shoulder looking down. It was a maze. She followed it carefully with her eyes.
"What is this?"
"Arthur mentioned that you have total recall. When you walk away from this, you'll remember every detail won't you?"
"Yes."
"In the dream, the Architect shapes our world. Yes, they create paradoxes, scenery, even scents but the most important part is this. This is what keeps us safe, what keeps us one step ahead of the Mark."
"I understand."
"Let's put that understanding to the test. Arthur, get us started would you."
"Have a seat, Army," Arthur said nodding his head toward a chair. In truth, he was nervous. He wanted her to have this job, moreso than Cobb or even she realized. It had been years, so many years, since he'd heard her voice, sat next to her and shared a birthday cake. Arthur knew that if she were to be turned down he probably wouldn't see for another six years, possibly longer. She'd be a shadow again.
...
Army watched the needle slide under skin. If anyone else had done this she would probably have broken their arm, but it was Arthur. He didn't say a word as he inserted the needle, he was nervous. His face showed a tightness, that no one could notice, no one save for close friends and her. She had an idea of why he'd asked her to do this job.
She looked over to Cobb and saw that he had already slid the needle in. She felt the cool sensation and watched almost disinterestedly as Arthur started the machine. Her eyes closed, still watching Arthur.
...
They were in a courtyard, old cobblestones beneath their feet. There was an elegant fountain a few feet to their left, something themed around Greek mythology she supposed. She glanced around at the buildings, noting their Victorian air. She also noted the vantage points that a sniper could use and the many windows that would have been at her disposal, had she so chosen. There were also people milling about, mostly older sort, she caught some French mostly, some English.
"Where are we,"she finally asked.
Cobb was in a suit, dark navy and white shirt. He wore no tie and she liked the small informality. Looking down she was wearing paint stained jeans and a Misfits t-shirt. She remembered the outfit being one of her favorites in high-school. She'd given the items to Goodwill in the eleventh grade.
"We are at the heart of the maze I showed you. The buildings, the people, they're just layers, what we use to convince the Mark that what they're seeing is real."
Cobb started walking and Army stayed close beside. She didn't admit it aloud but she was excited. In a dream, anything was possible right?
"This is the heart of the maze, huh?" She glanced up, saw blue sky and a few birds flapping lazily about. The detail was exquisite.
"Think of the building as parts of the maze as well. However, as we both know, a maze on paper has only one set route. An Architect can use buildings, shrubbery, bodies of water, to build their lines."
"The lines in the maze aren't definite. I can change how we move about, create backdoors. That's what you're getting at, aren't you?"
"Precisely." He gestured to a building, a quaint restaurant. It was nameless but she supposed in a world that was based on imagination it hardly mattered. He opened the door and for a moment Army met the disconcerting glares of his subconscious. Army started a little but regained her composure when they turned back to their tables and continued talking quietly.
"That was weird," she couldn't help but mention.
"You'll get used to it. There's a table for us, at the back."
There was an old oak countertop and behind it an old man and woman. They flitted about, taking orders from the patrons that stood in line. Surrounding the bar were tables scattered like moons from a planet. The chatter should have been background noise but as it was, Army listened to each table, making sure the talk was innocent.
"Now do you know where we are?"
"Yes, and if there were a backdoor to this establishment, it would lead to the very edge of the maze. Is there an edge? To a dream?"
Cobb smiled, "Would you like me to show you?"
...
Eames strode in, same as always. Arthur held his disdain in check. Cobb had sent notification to Eames of another job and Arthur had hoped that after the inception the fashionably handicapped man would decline. However, judging from the carefree grin the man sported, he was not only willing to accept the job but was eager. He'd already begun researching their next target, Audrey Malone.
"Hello Arthur, you look as stiff as ever."
Arthur did not deign to reply but continued typing up details of the job on the laptop.
"And who is this lovely-"
"No."
Arthur had expected to be given time to explain the nature of Eames to Army. He'd expected the man to be in some faroff location in Africa or Australia. Arthur held back a sigh. Apparently he wouldn't be that lucky.
"No?"
Arthur swiveled his chair to face the man, who was bending over his sister with genuine curiosity. Would it be so awful to stab the man with a pencil, to strangle him with his own tie? Could it not, in fact, be considered beneficial to mankind?
"Leave her alone."
Eames looked down at her and Arthur knew when the truth had struck the man.
"Tell me, is it pure coincidence, that she has the same nose, the same dark hair? Course, you don't have such adorable freckles." Eames moved a hand to touch Army's face.
"Stay away from her."
"Oh, but she's gorgeous. I'm sure she's much more fun than you."
"She's also much more deadly, Mr. Eames." Arthur sighed. He supposed no one was better at protecting Army than herself. Soon enough Eames would learn that Army was her own force, that she wouldn't take to the man's flirting at all. He allowed himself a smirk. He turned up the volume on the laptop. He wondered if Army would appreciate the kick. She wouldn't know that it was a far cry from what he was used to, that his change in music had also changed since they'd last met.
...
"Why is Crazy Train playing from the sky?"
"That's our kick, though, this isn't Arthur's usual choice."
"So the outside world can also affect our time in the dream?"
"Yes, movement, sounds, those are variables that can still trickle down through the subconscious."
"So...you have to get the target in an area that's quiet?"
Army spoke but at the same time observed the setting of the dream collapse. The building crumbled into nothing, the ground beneath her feet cracked, shuddered. Then she felt her whole body shift.
...
"Grey and green. Such a beautiful combination."
Army looked up and saw a man hovering over her. His smile was far from trustworthy, so it was little surprise when her hand shot up of its own accord and punched him in the throat.
"Army, some self control." She heard Arthur chide her but Army could hear the laughter just beneath the droll tone. From his statement alone she learned two things; one Arthur didn't like the man and the other was, that he had anticipated her reaction.
She looked over to see the man, stumbling away and clutching his throat, cheeks a ruddy color. If she were a more moral person she may have blushed or even apologized. Instead she watched him regain composure or at least catch his breath.
"My name is Army. And Arthur, I'm positive, didn't mention that people don't hover over me while I sleep."
"With," he gasped, "good reason." He offered a weak smile and she couldn't help but smile back. Not many people could joke after being punched in the throat. It was a good thing she'd held back most of her force, it would have been a shame to kill him so soon.
"Army meet Eames," Cobb said as he got up from his chair, "he's our Forger."
"Ah, suppose that would explain him being in the warehouse. Maybe it even explained him gawking at me."
"Yes, he must have just noticed the family resemblance."
Army stood, tugging her jacket down a little as she did so. She missed the Misfits tshirt that she'd been wearing in the dream. She looked at Eames as he sat on the edge of the formica table. His hand was still at his throat but there was a spark of laughter in his eyes. He caught her eying him and winked. Slicked hair, blue green eyes that twinkled with mischief and his mouth. She wondered how many women had been wooed with supple lips like that spouting such a devilishly soothing accent.
"What does Army stand for," he managed carefully. She imagined that a bruise was forming. At least it would take away from the tragedy that was his clothing. Nothing, not even God could forgive such a horrid flower print shirt. The brown jacket he wore over it, did nothing but accentuate the stupidity of the pink and purplish hue.
"Andromeda."
"Ah. Army it is then."
She nodded, "Army it is. I almost killed you, you know."
"I noticed."
"No, not just now," she smiled, "I mean, I was almost paid to, as in...well, Bang bang, dead."
"Funny world we live in."
"Yeah, good thing I thought you were too easy."
He removed his hand from his neck and offered a nod, before looking her directly in the eye. "Oh, I am."
She could practically hear the veins cropping up on Arthur's forehead. However, she was a big girl and she knew how to play the game, perhaps even better than Eames even knew.
...
Eames watched the way that she moved. Her movements were precise, so similar to her brother's but the walk was also sensual, hips, lovely rounded hips, swaying beautifully. She was almost as tall as Arthur save for about five inches. She wasn't as thin, thank God, and had dips and curves that Eames wanted to map ever so slowly with his hands. He looked at her face once more, it was almost classically beautiful, a dark Marilyn Monroe. The freckles, well, it made her look almost innocent. He was sure that fooled a lot of men, before the punch to throat he'd been fooled as well. He adjusted the ice pack carefully and then walked over to her.
"So,"he began.
"So..."
"How can someone as interesting as you have such bore of a brother?"
"He's not a bore. He probably doesn't like you. Besides," she said as she took off her jacket, "what makes you think that you're so much more exciting?"
Sweet blessed tank, Eames thought briefly. The removal of her jacket, provided a neat little tank top that hardly did anything to conceal her breasts. Eames would never have guessed that anyone related to Arthur could be so tantalizing. Had he any less training he would have licked his lips and rubbed his hands together.
He eyed the tattoo on her shoulder, and of course the small arsenal of weapons strapped to various places on her back.
"You gonna need all that?"
"Bring a condom for a fuck, cause you never know your luck."
He grinned. Yes, she was going to be so much more fun than Arthur.