Back again!
Just to let you spectacular readers know, school starts tomorrow for yours truly, so the time I'll get to write is quite limited and unknown. But please, if you're still reading my story, stick with me! I will update WHENEVER I can! That's a promise!
I still don't own Inception, only my original characters...
Anyway, no more cliffhanger! Read on!
I tensed, expecting to feel the ripping pain of a bullet find its way into my body. The moment seemed to last way to long, though I could do nothing to save myself. Vaguely, I heard a second shot soon after the first one, though I had no idea what that meant. A searing pain finally found the side of my right arm. Surprised at the lack of horrible, killing kind of pain, I looked down at my arm. The bullet had only hit me slightly, taking a long gash out of my arm. Blood flowed out of it freely, though it was far from life threatening.
"It's about time you showed up," a voice growled. I looked up, registering the lack of silhouette and the presence of a large figure next to me. It was the same guy.
"Where've I been?" I asked stupidly, a little to confused to say something intelligent.
"Don't be a smart ass Cobb," he barked. I felt his hand fasten securely around my neck, and he had slammed me into a building. I felt little pieces of the wall crumble at the disturbance, and I felt them hit my head lightly and make soft clicking noises as the hit the ground. "I lost my chance to take you down years ago. You showing up back here, tells me you're up to no good again,"
"Me? Nah. Taking a trip down memory lane," I choked through my limited airway. His hand tightened even more, and I let out an involuntary gasp, praying for more air. I tried to breathe through my nose, but it was hard with the force he was applying on my neck.
"Like hell you are. Mark my words, I won't let you slither your way out again. I should've put you away for life. You won't escape me again. If you fucking blow your nose in public, I can get a warrant for your arrest. Don't even think about crossing me," he hissed menacingly.
"You just shot me without probable cause," I pointed out weakly, as I was short on breath to speak with.
"You're holding a gun. That's probable enough for me," the growl was triumphant.
"Fuck off Smaltin, I'm not doing anything illegal," I barked at him, attempting to throw him off me. Smaltin only cackled sadistically.
"You weigh nothing Cobb, you can't overpower me," he said smugly. I knew he was right. "Think of this meeting as a little warning. I'll leave you be this time, but just know one thing," he dropped his hand, leaving me to slide down the wall, gasping the air into my lungs desperately. "I'm watching you. Do one thing out of line, and I will bring you crashing down," he enunciated. "And don't let your friend in the cab get to involved. We don't need anyone else messing with our business," he stepped back, and in the next instant, had disappeared off into the pressing darkness.
I remained sitting on the ground next to the building, only then beginning to feel the throb of my heavily bleeding shoulder. Then his last words registered. Friend in the cab. Arthur was still here. I pushed myself up, sprinting for what I knew to be the best hidden viewpoint of the parking lot. I flew around a corner, just in time to see a slightly slimmer figure then Smaltin racing away through the darkness, away from the cab. Ignoring that, I nearly flew to the cab.
"You're an idiot," I spat at Arthur, who was still there, looking slightly dazed. The cabbie was beyond dead, half of his head now sliding sickeningly down the opposite window.
"I didn't expect an attack!" he defended himself at once.
"You should've left!"
"It's a dark and obviously dangerous parking lot! Sorry for not just leaving you!" he shouted back, wiping the cabbie's blood from his face.
"At least I got ahold of my gun," I threw at him, knowing a second to late that the words were a little to harsh. "Help me," I demanded instantly to cover the blunder, starting on pushing the limp body out of the drivers seat across to the passengers side.
"What? Don't do that!" he exploded.
"I've done worse then this," I was getting fed up with him. We needed to move faster.
"The police would be a better place to start," he informed me. I screamed in frustration, moving away from the drivers seat to pull open his door. I leaned inside so I was right in his face.
"Those were the police. And now, we've been set up. Legitimate looking police are going to show up any minute. Now, think of our situation. It's our word against at least two policemen, we're both covered in blood, we're both armed, there's a cabbie with his head blown off, and there are two huge cases of firearms in the trunk. Do the math,"
"Oh," he muttered.
"Damn right, 'oh'. Now, help me," I repeated myself, going back for the front. Arthur complied this time, and we dragged the cabbie's body across so he was dumped in the passenger side.
"What happened to your arm?" Arthur asked suddenly.
"He shot me," I said bluntly, jumping into the now vacated drivers seat. "Fuck. Wait here," I leaped back out and sprinted back for the parking lot, sweeping up the duffle and ripping half the engine out of the bike in my haste. Shoving the metal into the duffle too, I raced back to the car, already hearing sirens in the distance. I threw the bag in the backseat next to Arthur, returning to the drivers seat. Starting the cab back up, I screeched backwards out of the street, spinning around once I had the wide space the parking lot provided.
"Where are we going?" Arthur wondered.
"Elsewhere," I nearly grinned at my own vagueness, speeding down the nearly empty streets. "Actually," a thought occurred to me suddenly, and I screeched to a stop. I turned slightly in the seat, enough to almost be facing him. Arthur watched me expectantly. "Okay. There isn't enough time to go to your house first and do something with the cases. We have to deal with this car, and the cabbie. That has to happen somewhere specific, nowhere near a place to take the cases afterwards..." I trailed off.
"That wasn't a promising conclusion," Arthur reminded me after a moment.
"I'm organizing my thoughts. Just give me a second," I muttered. Sirens wailed ever closer, which was doing nothing for my thought process. Finally, I had a solution. It wasn't an ideal solution, but it would have to do for now. Without telling Arthur what I was doing, I spun the car around again, heading in a different direction. Arthur seemed to know better then to question, which I was thankful for. Two blocks away from my brother's house, I stopped. "Go wake up Dom. Stay at his house, tell him to bring means of transportation to the lake,"
"What lake?" Arthur asked predictably.
"It's not really a lake. Just tell him that, he'll know what you're talking about," I insisted. Arthur, surprisingly, got out of the car. Without waiting, I spun around yet again, heading off in a completely different direction. I drove for miles, finally ending up on the top of a hill. This hill was infamous for catching on fire, as it was nothing but dead plants. Also because I had set fires here, more then once.
I stopped the car, getting out and taking both mine and Arthur's bags and dumping them down the hill. The two cases followed quickly. I proceeded to open up the gas tank in the cab, retreating about halfway down the hill before raising the Beretta and shooting the opening. I then ran as fast as I could back down the hill, dragging all the stuff further back from the dead earth once I got to the bottom. I stacked the cases up, sitting on them as the car caught fire. Minutes later, a deafening explosion rang through the air. I watched, mesmerized by the orange flames as the car exploded with leaping fire.
It felt like I waited forever. As I actually started to genuinely wonder if my brother was going to show up, he appeared at my shoulder. Nothing was said, but he watched the flames with me for a minute before holding out a hand. I took it, finally starting to feel drained from the adrenaline rush that hadn't happened for years. We split the load of burden, trekking in silence to Dom's car. After letting go of the stuff I held, I walked almost numbly to the front seat. Everything was sinking in. I was being watched by the police. Again. A cabbie had been murdered because of me. I had set the lake on fire. Again. My arm hurt. A lot.
I walked back into Dom's house as we got back, finding a couch to sit on. Minutes passed before I realized that Arthur was in the room too. Dom sat down next to me and had already started on my arm. What a good brother. He ripped the rest of my already tattered sleeve off my arm, wiping the dirty gash with wet gauze. I didn't even pay attention to the pain, watching Arthur instead. He didn't miss the glances he kept throwing at me, as if he was watching me from a different point of view. A point of view that said I was dangerous. The point of view that was reality.
"You going to tell me what happened now?" Dom asked in a tone that forced calm, finishing and tightening a gauze bandage around my arm.
"Smaltin still wants to arrest me," I gave him that brief explanation, giving him a pointed look. "I thought you told him to drop it,"
"I did!" Dom exclaimed, fury flashing in his eyes.
"Don't lie to me. Maybe you told him to back off, but you didn't make sure, did you? You never closed the case,"
"The case isn't closed," my brother claimed defiantly.
"The case shouldn't have my name anywhere on it!" I was shouting again, and I felt angry tears prick my eyes. I blinked them away before they became noticeable, refusing to show the emotion. "You aren't convinced, are you?" my tone fell back into near whispers, and I refused to look Dom in the face.
"Rika. Don't ever think that," he sounded pained.
"How can I not? You were so convinced Dom, so convinced. That doesn't just disappear with time. There's still the sneaking suspicion. Nothing has been resolved since I was cleared, so maybe, just maybe, you were on the right track with me,"
"That's not true!" he shouted.
"Really? Imagine if Smaltin locked me up. Would you sleep, just a little better? Actually think about it. You would, wouldn't you?"
Dom actually got to his feet out of anger. "What do you want me to say? What will convince you that I don't think you had anything to do with it?"
"Close the case," I challenged bluntly. "It's over, you know that. I'm their best guess, they're not going to go look for anyone else!"
"The case isn't closed," he repeated in a mumble.
"After they succeed in locking me up, it will be. So, choose. Let the case go, and I get cleared. Keep it open, Smaltin eventually arrests me, and it gets closed anyway," I stared Dom down, which was awkward, as he was still standing. My brother's face contorted and he did a half lunge for me. He faltered at the same time Arthur put himself between us.
"Okay. Airika, stop provoking your brother. Dom, sit down, and explain what the hell is going on," Arthur asserted firmly, shoving Dom into a armchair. I rolled my eyes at Arthur's words, but leaned back into the couch quietly. Arthur sat down next to me, so he remained between Dom and me.
"It's none of your business Arthur," Dom snarled, getting up from the armchair and striding from the room. I was left sitting there with Arthur, who blinked in surprise.
"What's going on?" Arthur turned to me, asking over and over with his eyes for answers. I shook my head.
"I can't tell you. It's for Dom to tell, whenever he decides to be rational about the whole thing. I have to go. Don't let anything happen to the cases, they're still in Dom's car I guess," I sounded detached as I spoke, not looking at him as I headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Arthur asked, sounding exasperated.
"Home,"
"It's not close by, is it?"
"No," I stated bluntly. "But I'm not going to stay here," I could tell he was about to say something else, but I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear anything from anyone. So I paid him no attention, slamming the door on his sentence. I walked numbly for about two miles, letting my head clear itself. Finally, I was thinking somewhat rationally again, and I found a payphone. After dialing Snow's phone, it rang only twice before she picked up.
"It's three thirty in the fucking morning. Whoever you are, have a little more class," she screamed through the line.
"Hey Snow," I muttered.
"Airika!" she screeched. "You, of all people, what compelled you to call me at this time? Where the hell are you anyway?"
I gave her a street corner. "Just come pick me up," I requested before hanging up, falling against the wall of the phone booth and sliding down to sit on the ground. I closed my eyes, watching the evenings events flash through my mind. I wasn't numb from what happened. Actually, I barely even cared about the cabbie, or the fire, or even Smaltin bruising my neck and shooting me. All I cared about was the fact that my brother was still apprehensive about my guilt or not. I was certain that he had did his very best to convince himself of the truth, but he apparently wasn't satisfied with the results. I could sympathize with him, I knew he needed someone to blame. And since it had always been me, why stop now?
The thing was, there was a reason that he could still be convinced. If he had found out, if someone had told him the murkiness of what had really happened, he still had more then enough reasons to suspect me. If he had been told hard facts. Facts like my fingerprints had been found all over the murder weapon. Or that there is certain evidence that I was in the building when it happened, and got out alive. Or the fact that the blood I had been covered in when I left the building was not mine, but proven to be Jenna's. Also, three people claim and will testify to have heard me screaming at someone minutes before the murder happened.
My overactive thoughts were cut short by Snow standing over me. "You look like you've been to hell and back," she told me bluntly.
"Close enough," I agreed, pushing myself back to a standing position. "Sorry I called you,"
"I would be pissed, but the amount of blood you're covered in and the fact that you have a gauze war bandage convinced me otherwise,"
"I'm relieved," I assured her quietly, climbing into the passenger seat of her car. I knew I was being tactless with my lack of speech, but I couldn't bear to say everything that was going through my mind. I didn't even trust myself to say it all in order, or even be understandable. Snow, being the amazing person that she is, didn't question, but drove me back home. I gave her a mumble of thanks, sliding out of the car and trekking for the door.
For the first time in awhile, I wanted to sleep. I wanted to go to sleep, and not wake up for a long time. This of course, didn't happen, and I lay in the darkness, ruminating. I finally couldn't take all the thoughts in my head anymore, so I sat up and turned a light on, reaching for my laptop. Over the next three hours, I organized every musing in my head into a mock police report. I had read enough of them to know how to write them up, and they were good for thinking. The finished document was five pages long. I read it six more times before I realized it was almost seven thirty. Not knowing what else to do, I got up, took a second shower out of habit, drank half a pot of coffee, and left the house. I walked the mile and a half to the warehouse, making a note to somehow get ahold of my motorcycle.
"You look like you haven't slept in days!" Eames called cheerfully.
"I wonder why," I mused sarcastically.
"Arthur brought you the large ass cases. What's in them, anyway?" Eames questioned.
"You're going to find out later. Where is Arthur?"
"Here," Arthur's voice came from behind me, and he walked into the warehouse. While I looked hellish, he looked just as he always did. Perfect suit, perfect hair. I might hate him. "Dom's going to be late,"
"Where is he?" I demanded instantly.
"He said not to tell you," Arthur looked apologetic. I swore, nearly kicking something, but resisting.
"Fine. Now, you two get to be awesome assassins, and he'll be left out," I decided.
"That's always the goal," Eames agreed, laughing.
As I turned, I noticed Arthur watching me. "I have to talk to you," he declared, taking my arm and pulling me from the warehouse. He pointedly ignored Eames' suggestive whistle, slamming the warehouse door once we were outside.
"If you're going to question me, don't bother," I said flatly, leaning against the side of the warehouse.
"I wasn't going to. Dom is trying to get you off the hook for awhile,"
"Thought you weren't supposed to tell me,"
"Would you rather I didn't?" he shot back, sounding exasperated. I inclined my head in a negative. "He wants to finish this job with Frost and Cobal, then figure the other thing out. Whatever that is,"
"How considerate of him," I huffed sardonically.
"Are you okay?" Arthur asked, ignoring my tone.
"I'm fucking spectacular. Can't you tell?" I gave him a huge, obviously fake smile. Arthur sighed. "Is that all you had to drag me out here for?" I asked. Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he looked like he was about to say something. He faltered at the last minute however, and opened the door for me instead. I looked at him for a moment before letting it go, heading back inside.
"Have fun?" Eames sang from his perch on the edge of my desk instead of his, next to the cases. I ignored him, moving to open the silver one and opening the third drawer down. Eames whistled appreciatively at the pair of weapons that lay there. I gave one to each of them.
"Take it apart," I instructed them both, gesturing to the metal in their hands. Looking slightly confused, both complied. "Now put it back together," I said, boredom lacing my tone as I sank into a chair and put my feet on a desk. Again, they followed directions.
"Well that was fun, right Artie?" Eames piped afterwards. Arthur glared at him.
"That took you over a minute. You need to be able to take a gun apart and put it back together in thirty seconds at least," I said dully. "Do it again,"
The next forty-five minutes passed in a similar fashion. Surprisingly, Eames was the first to actually get it done in thirty seconds. This proceeded to piss Arthur off, and he did so soon after.
"You both have a shred of dance competence, right?" I asked at large, after about another hour. They both looked at me like I'd lost it. I rolled my eyes. "You know. The art of dexterity," I pirouetted on the spot to demonstrate my point.
"Why does that matter?" Arthur asked curiously.
"Answer the question first. Seriously, it doesn't matter what. Just, anything," I emphasized this by morphing the twirl at the last second and dropping into the splits.
"This is me you're talking about dearest," Eames said smugly, holding out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up expertly. I spun away from him, grinning.
"Right. The womanizer. It's in your job description," I mocked. Eames made a face at me, but winked anyway. I turned to Arthur.
"Sure," he shrugged in an affirmative to my query.
"Okay. No real reason, it's just what they teach you when you train to be an assassin. First, you learn how to dance. It helps with your overall ninja qualities," I nodded seriously as I spoke, not missing their identical eye rolls. Eames looked significantly more amused though. No big surprise. The scene was interrupted by my brother finally arriving.
"Ah, Dominic! We were wondering where you ran off to," Eames greeted in his usual cheery voice.
"We have two weeks to finish with Cobal," Dom announced bluntly.
"Two weeks! This is two, insanely difficult jobs you're talking about here, and you're the one who wants me to train you all as assassins. Two weeks is close to impossible," I nearly shrieked at him.
Dom looked at me impassively. "We can take more then two weeks. After that is just when they're going to start looking for illegal activity again," he informed me pointedly.
I gritted my teeth as I stared at him, finally exhaling heavily. "Then we better move quicker," I went to get the next size higher in weapons.
"Rika. One more thing," Dom called. I turned, exasperated. "I just got this. We're required," he threw an open envelope at me. I caught it, and pulled out a thick sheet of paper. As I read it, I choked on the air I was breathing.
"A family reunion? Why the hell is our dysfunctional family having a reunion?" I exclaimed, ignoring Eames' chuckles at the idea.
"Don't ask me, but we're sticking to the same story," Dom said compellingly.
"You didn't have to tell me. I don't feel the urge to ruin our happy image," I rolled my eyes.
"Can Arthur and I go?" Eames asked wickedly. I left it for Dom to answer, as I truthfully didn't care.
"It'll be hell, but if you really want to..." I could hear the shrug in Dom's voice. "Just a couple things you have to stick to. None of them know anything about dreaming. Airika and I see each other frequently. And most importantly, Mal is still alive, and unable to attend. Make up a reason if someone asks,"
"Your family thinks Mal is alive?" Arthur asked questioningly.
"Yes. And it's going to stay that way," Dom said firmly and seriously.
Ah ha! And what a dysfunctional family it is...to give you a little preview, we've got a schizophrenic cousin, a cynical mother, a gossipy aunt, and the great grandmother that just won't die coming in the next chapter! Bound to be exciting!
And don't forget, reviews make for quicker updates! (I hope I'm not pestering, just a little reminder!)
Love to all!
Mio