Chapter 2: Ripped to Pieces
Arthur's military experience had trained him to act efficiently, especially in a crisis. So when Hans was shot by the projection, Arthur was already there, killing the shooter with a well-placed shot from his Glock. Arthur paused, taking stock of the situation. His arm was in agonizing pain where it had been twisted back by a feral projection, and his side stung where he had been impaled by the stapler. Arthur could feel bruises forming across the side of his body, and wished he had time to rip off his suit vest. Mechanically Arthur aimed into the crowd, throwing out the original plan of stealth. All he cared about now was keeping the projections away from the back hallway where Sandy was working.
As Arthur moved, he realized he was covered in blood. Good thing this isn't real life, or I'd have to throw out another suit.
He was on the lookout for a rabid Eva, since that seemed to be what all of this was coming down to. One thought kept reoccurring through his mind, in time with the throbbing of his left wrist (which was probably broken) - I wish Eames was here to back me up. Suddenly his obnoxiously inappropriate humor seemed to be missing from an altogether bleak picture.
Like some kind of dam that had been broken, Hans' shooting had set the projections into an even higher pitched frenzy. Before, Hans and Arthur had been successfully repelling the projections from reaching the safe, but now the team was one man down. Arthur had no back up.
The projections trampled over the inert body of Hans, determined to reach Sandy. Arthur chased after them, checking for Hans' pulse along the way. Miraculously, there was a faint rapid fluttering. Against Arthur's original thoughts, the bullet hadn't killed Hans instantly. Arthur remembered something he had learned in military dreamsharing – a penetrating head injury places almost instantaneous death at 92%. That is to say, although it was rare, sometimes the enemy could live, albeit temporarily. Hans is the 8% - Sandy might still have time.
I have to stall for progress with the safe, Arthur thought grimly, and raised his Glock once again. The mob of projections, which was twenty plus people pouring in at all entrances, rushed towards the back of the bank. Arthur dispatched as many as he could, kicking, punching, shooting, and turned on his comms, trying to warn Sandy before they were all pushed out of the dream. "Sandy! Projections coming your way! Sandy!"
Arthur thought he could hear faint yelling down the hallway, but it seemed more remote than it had earlier. For some reason Sandy didn't have her comms active, or had lost them. Sandy didn't tell us something. This is completely wrong. The projections should care about Hans and I. He's the dreamer, and I'm an accomplice. Never mind the safe; they should try to kill us too!
As Arthur turned to the corner, blood spattered onto his face from another dispatched projection (Infinite bullets, darling, it's the best, Eames had once remarked). After making the corner, Arthur realized why Sandy's voice had seemed so much farther away than before – because it was. In Hans' last lucid moments, he must have thought of more architecture leading to the safe. Like a scene out of Harry Potter, infinite staircases, these being completely mirrored, twisted in all directions, confusing the most adept militarized mind.
Another projection slammed into Arthur as he took in Hans' final masterpiece. Arthur was hit hard enough he was knocked to his knees, his Glock sliding across the marble and onto one of the moving staircases. Arthur got into a defensive position, prepared for hand-to-hand combat. To his astonishment, he realized a slim hand was being held out to his aid. What kind of projection offers help to an enemy dreamer?
Arthur's eyes trailed up the slim shaking hand, to a pale arm dotted with freckles, and then to a heart-shaped face, creased with age and framed by a mess of brown waves. Finally, Arthur met panicked hazel eyes. With a start, he realized who it was. Arthur was looking into the face of Eva Jansen.
In the space of a second, Arthur's mind flashed through a sequence of thoughts. It must be some kind of trick. Why would she help me? Arthur was dumbfounded. Here, the target, in the dreamscape, was offering her help to the person employed to steal her secrets. Let's see where this goes,Arthur thought. Offering his best beguiling smile (once again wishing Eames was there to deliver his over-the-top charm), Arthur took her hand and stood up.
Aware of the time being wasted by this encounter, Arthur opened his mouth to cut to the chase. Eva beat him to it.
"Oh my god, you look familiar, you work with me at CurrencyCorp, correct? Do you have any idea what's going on? Wow, you're in rough shape. Who hurt you? Was it my son? There's blood everywhere and my son tried to distract me from coming to work and I'm panicking and-" Arthur cut off Eva's lilting accent the second he realized what was going on.
"Yes, Eva Jansen? My name's Eames. I've heard so much about your work! I'm a temporary intern here, I came to work, and all this happened. There's a safe a woman is trying to move to protect from these people, do you know about that?" Arthur did his best to seem like a scared, star struck intern, using the first name that popped into his head. Eva's subconscious seemed to remember Arthur when he cased her building, and for some reason Eva now associated him as a friend. I can work with this, Arthur thought, discreetly adjusting his arm so his empty gun holster was hidden.
"A safe?" Eva's eyes alighted with recognition. "There's – there's something important there, I know that… I don't know why… you said there's a woman trying to save it from this?"
"Yes, and we have to go help her," Arthur smoothly replied. They had already wasted time with the introductions. I've never worked with my own mark before… but I guess there's a first for everything.
Arthur took a hold of one of Eva's arms, gently pulling her behind him. Eva seemed to be intently focused on Arthur's face, for some reason. I can work with this.Arthur preformed a complicated maneuver as they climbed onto one of the moving stairways, grabbing his Glock and sliding it out of Eva's sight, simultaneously propelling her in front of him.
Arthur knew from working on cases with Cobb that 'infinite staircases' really have the right-hand rule that applies to mazes. That is, to get through the constantly moving staircases, a person has to always take the path to the right. Eva blindly followed as Arthur hopped from staircase to staircase, always taking the right hand path when offered. What would Eames think of me now? Hopping like a bunny through a maze of mirrors, during a fucked up operation, with the same person I'm trying to target in tow?Arthur shook himself, trying to focus on the projections coming into sight. Why do I care what Eames thinks? I don't. Focus.
As they ran and jumped, Arthur's instinctual scanning of the dreamscape began to notice wavers in the marble walls around them. Arthur tried to calculate how long it had been since Hans was shot - at least five minutes. He's going to wake up soon and we haven't even reached Sandy yet.
Finally, Arthur and Eva came upon the group of projections. Arthur was feeling out of breath, and his whole body hurt. He was not ready to fight middle aged bankers with staplers.
But, miraculously, with Eva in tow, the projections totally ignored them, still meandering forward onto random staircases. Arthur kept towing Eva towards the right staircase, but she pulled him back, slowing him down as he dragged her along. "Why are people acting so weird? I know that guy, that's Hank, from Accounting. He looks so… unhinged. This can't be real."
Can't have her start questioning reality now, Arthur thought.
There's a reason you're in this business, darling, you lie all the time. Lie to her. What would I say? Eames' voice whispered encouragingly into Arthur's ear.
"Um, Eva," Arthur began hesitantly, keenly aware of the time running out as more tremors ran within the walls.
"Yes, Eames?" Eva asked.
Weird hearing her call me that. "Okay, so the safe I told you about, there's been a huge breach in CurrencyCorp, you know, our work. Apparently the secret in this safe is important enough the rival company has been threatening your - our - co-worker's families. These people are desperate to get this secret. So, we need to get to that woman, and, ehm, ask her what we can do to get out unscathed. Listen and follow me, and we'll be fine." Eva blanched, and turned even paler, but motioned for Arthur to lead the way. She shook off his grip on her arm, squeezed his hand, and took a steadying breath.
"Let's go." With Eva's full compliance, Arthur made much better headway, finally, finally, reaching the other side of the marble floor. Spotting Sandy, Arthur jumped off the last stairway and sprinted the last 10 meters, Eva following close behind. The tremors were getting worse, and even Eva started to glance around them at the walls, brow furrowed.
"Hi!" Arthur called, keeping up the pretense of being an innocent intern. "We need help. People are coming after you." At this point Sandy had turned partly around, confusion written all over the side of her face. She still crouching next to the safe, but her earpiece lay dangling out of her ear.
"Do you know what this safe is all about? Have you opened it?" Arthur continued, trying to subtly see if the mission was complete.
"Almost there," Sandy called, turning all the way around, rising out of her crouch. "I just need to-" Eva let out a startled gasp, stepping back. The tremors in the walls had migrated to the floor as well, spreading like cracks in ice, ripping the dream apart.
"I- I know you!" Eva said frantically, pointing a shaking finger at Sandy. "You're bad! You're an enemy! Get back. GO AWAY!" Eva's pitch was quickly reaching hysterical. She frantically looked over at Arthur for confirmation.
"No, no she's helping us, Eva. Remember? Those other people are-" But Eva was beyond reason, something having convinced her that Sandy was the devil. Her whole body was shaking in time with the fissures, and Sandy's tone of voice had plunged straight into insane territory. Her wide, panicked eyes suddenly flicked to Arthur's waist.
Arthur followed her gaze, to where his Glock was resting back in its holster.
As if in slow motion, Eva slid, scrambling across the marbled floor, Sandy's face looking nonplussed over her shoulder. Eva's slim hands reached for Arthur's gun, but Arthur beat her to it, wrenching the Glock out of her reach with his left hand. Arthur held his right hand out in a placating gesture.
"Eames, EAMES, SHOOT HER! SHE'S HORRIBLE! SHE'S AN ABOMINATION! MY SON TOLD ME! EAMES!"
"Eva, Ms. Jansen, calm-" Arthur began, but then the projections were once more upon them, scrambling off the staircases and onto the marble floor, now completely overrun with fissures.
They only had seconds until Hans died, and the dream ended.
The projections, now numbering in the hundreds, swamped their group. Arthur fell to the ground under the weight of two men in matching grey suits, his Glock knocked easily out of his hand with a jolt to his bad wrist. Shooting pains traveled up his arm under the weight of the men. Arthur saw stars as his head smacked against the wavering floor.
As Arthur was pinned to the ground under the men, his world turned on its side. Arthur saw Sandy's heels in the corner of his vision, among the throng of people. Suddenly, a familiar freckled arm reached toward his Glock, meters away from him. A shot rang out, and the frenzy projections suddenly quieted. The thump of a body hitting the ground was the only sound throughout the unstable dream.
The projections moved off of Arthur. He shakily climbed to his feet, and saw the motionless form of Sandy, her face frozen in a surprised expression, eyes staring vacantly. Eva stood a meter away, red specks staining the front of her white and black polka dot blouse. Eva turned toward Arthur, blood dotting along her nose like a spray of freckles.
"I killed her, Eames. I killed the abomination. We can leave now." As Eva delivered her speech hollowly, she pressed the Glock to her head.
Arthur realized with a start one of the men with the grey suits had pulled out a similar weapon, and was now pressing it against Arthur's coiffed black hair.
A line of sweat broke free from Arthur's forehead, running down the side of his temple.
Arthur distantly heard dual bangs as both the projection's gun and his Glock discharged.
The dream was swallowed by blackness as Arthur's eyelids slid shut.