Inception Fic: Clue
Ah, tonight was a good night... I went to a Brewer game with the fam and they beat Houston, 5-2, and Trevor Hoffman got his 597th save! Quite exciting, I must say. Also, the song he runs out to is "Hell's Bells" by AC/DC, which makes it EPIC and quite amuses the Dresden Files fangirl inside me. Yep.
And then I finally finished my Inception/Clue fic for this prompt on inception_kink . YOU GUYS. IT IS 3000+ WORDS. IDK. IT GOT AWAY FROM ME. I HAVE ISSUES. But I hope this is at least close to what the prompter wanted.
So... ta-daaa! \o/
Title: Clue
Pairing/Rating: Gen; PG-13
Prompt: "LET'S PLAY CLUE, KIDS. Even better if Eames insists they all act out their guesses/talk like their characters. Extra win if Eames also makes them dress up and somehow manages to get Arthur as one of the ladies."
Summary: Eames comes up with an interesting idea for a training session. Things get out of hand.
- - -
“I think this is the strangest training exercise I’ve ever been a part of,” Cobb mutters, pulling the pith helmet off his head for closer inspection.
“Hey! No getting out of character!” Eames says, taking the pith helmet and jamming it back onto Cobb’s head. “You are Colonel Mustard. Colonel Mustard always wears a safari hat.”
“Eames.” Arthur’s voice is low and venomous, the way it is when he is trying to refrain from doing something violent. Eames turns to face the point man with a grin.
“Yes, Arthur?”
Arthur glares daggers and Eames knows that if looks could kill, he’d be pushing up daisies.
“Would you mind telling me why the hell I’m in a dress?”
Eames hears Cobb snort behind him, but luckily the mirth stops there; Cobb has known Arthur long enough to be wary of his temper.
“Because, Miss Scarlett, our team is short on ladies and that dress makes your legs look absolutely fantastic,” Eames says. Arthur’s eyes narrow even further - if that’s possible - and Eames sees his fingers twitch, probably wishing they were holding a weapon.
“If you do not tell me where I can go to change in this fucked up subconscious of yours, Mr. Eames, I will kill myself on the spot,” Arthur growls. Eames rolls his eyes.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I knew you’d be like this. Check the Lounge, there should be a suit in there for you. And wear the red tie!” Eames calls after Arthur’s hastily retreating form.
“You enjoy flirting with death, don’t you, Mr. Eames?” Saito asks with a grin as he joins them in the hall.
“Generally, yes,” Eames says, pleased to see that at least one member of the team is happily sporting his costume, albeit a green suit jacket and priest’s collar are not as embarrassing as a red strapless dress.
“Why do I have peacock feathers in my hair?” Ariadne asks when she finds them, clad in a shimmering blue gown and green shawl with pointed glasses perched on her nose.
“Because you’re Mrs. Peacock. I thought that would have been obvious,” Eames says.
“I feel ridiculous,” Yusuf mutters as he walks up to the group, fidgeting with his violet suit coat.
“Nice elbow patches, Professor,” Ariadne says. Yusuf sighs.
“Who are we missing?” Saito asks.
“Miss Scarlett,” Cobb says, grinning at Eames.
“You’re hilarious.” Arthur joins them, looking much more comfortable but no less menacing in a sleek black and white pin-stripe suit and scarlet tie.
“Wait,” Ariadne says. “If Arthur has to be Miss Scarlett, then who’s Mrs. White?”
“I am,” says Eames, gesturing at his white three-piece suit, complete with black shirt and tie.
“Then where’s your French maid outfit?” Ariadne asks.
“I’ll leave the cross-dressing to Arthur, sweetheart. This is as fancy as you’ll see me.”
“I thought something was off about you,” Arthur says, quirking an eyebrow. “You actually look clean for once.”
“Careful, Miss Scarlett, or I’ll put you back in heels,” Eames says with a wolfish grin.
“That’s enough,” Cobb says, stepping in between them before blows are exchanged. “Eames, this was your idea. What are we doing here?”
“Basically, we’re playing Clue,” Eames says. He moves over to a nearby door and opens it, revealing an opulent ballroom. In the middle of the room is a long table, and laid upon it are various weapons: an old pepper-box revolver, a sheathed dagger, a length of rope, a pewter candlestick, a slightly bent piece of lead piping, and a large monkey wrench.
“Ariadne was good enough to create this mansion for us,” Eames continues as the team gathers around the table. “There are nine rooms: a kitchen, a study, a conservatory, a billiard room, a library, a hall, a dining room, a lounge, and this ballroom.”
“So… it’s just like a Clue game board?” Yusuf asks, picking up the monkey wrench. Eames smacks his hand and the wrench drops back onto the table.
“Don’t touch anything until I say so,” he says, then adds, “And no, it’s not just a Clue game board. It’s a maze.”
“I’m missing the point of this exercise,” Arthur says, and Eames can see he’s dangerously close to the revolver so he hurries to explain.
“It’s a lesson in deduction,” Eames says. “One of us is going to kill the single projection - we’ll call him Mr. Boddy - wandering around the mansion, using one of these six weapons. Then we will use deduction skills to determine who the killer is.”
“How do we decide who’s going to kill the projection?” Ariadne asks.
“Whoever finds him first kills him.”
“Do we have to?” Yusuf asks.
“Yes,” Eames says. He looks at his watch. “In about one minute, the lights will go out. Everyone will grab a weapon from the table and spread out over the mansion to look for the projection. Once Mr. Boddy is dead, we will return to the ballroom and decide who killed him.”
“How will we know when he’s dead?” Arthur asks.
“Someone will have to shout.”
“Who shouts, the murderer or whoever finds the body?” Cobb asks.
“I don’t know, either one, just… someone shout. All right?” Eames asks. Cobb grumbles something noncommittal and turns to the table, looking over the assortment of weapons. Eames checks his wristwatch again.
“All right, the lights will go out in five… four…”
The lights go out.
“Punctual, as usual,” says Arthur’s disembodied voice through the darkness.
“Just grab a weapon and go kill something,” Eames growls, and heads in the direction of the table, groping for whichever weapon is left. His fingers meet with cool metal and he hefts the weapon, determining from the weight and shape that he has the candlestick. He hears doors opening and closing around him, one dull thud and an apology from Yusuf, and then silence.
Eames leaves the ballroom and heads left. He reaches a stairwell just as the lights turn back on and finds himself completely alone. He pauses on the steps and listens, but the mansion is silent. A wolfish grin spreads across his face.
Everyone is playing.
Eames wanders the second floor for a few minutes before he hears footsteps echo on the floor above him. He twirls the candlestick in his hand, deciding it’s finally time to get serious. He climbs the nearest set of stairs without a sound and hugs the wall in the upper corridor, peering around corners to see who is up there with him. At the end of the hall he sees the open door to what must be the study, judging by the large oaken desk inside. There are shadows moving in the doorway.
Eames creeps closer until he can hear snatches of conversation.
“- already dead?” That sounds like Saito.
“I’m telling you, this is how I found him.” The other voice is definitely Ariadne.
“You really expect me to believe that?”
“Saito, I don’t make a habit of bashing in people’s skulls. Besides, I have the rope. See?”
Apparently Saito does see, because he sounds much less suspicious when he says, “Then who managed to kill the projection so quickly?”
“I’m guessing either Arthur or Eames. I know Cobb went the other way, and Yusuf stayed on the first floor.”
“Should we tell everyone the projection is dead?” (Eames has to restrain himself from shouting at Saito to call the projection “Mr. Boddy.”)
“No,” Ariadne says, and Eames recognizes that tone of voice; it’s the same as when she’s plotting out a particularly difficult maze. “No, we should let someone else find the body. We’ll draw less attention to ourselves that way.”
“Fair enough,” Saito says, and then the two of them leave the study and Eames is forced to duck into a tiny alcove to avoid being seen.
Peering into the hall first to make sure the coast is clear, Eames hurries to the library to get a look at the body.
But he is not alone.
Arthur is crouched over the projection’s body, studying something or other, but his head snaps up as soon as Eames enters the room, and the dagger flashes in his hand.
“Easy, easy,” Eames says, holding his hands up. “Calm yourself, Arthur, my goodness.”
Arthur glares but he lowers the knife and goes back to studying the body.
“How the hell did you get here so fast?” Eames asks. Arthur glances up at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Secret passageway, from the kitchen,” he says. “Ariadne remained very loyal to the game board when she made this maze.”
“Apparently,” Eames mutters, then joins Arthur in inspecting the body. It appears that poor Mr. Boddy was bludgeoned to death, as his skull is completely mashed and leaking all over the beautiful carpet.
“Do you know who killed him?” Arthur asks, and Eames looks at him in surprise.
“You mean you didn’t?” he asks, and Arthur flashes him an exasperated look before holding up the dagger, obviously not the murder weapon. Eames frowns. “But then…”
“What?”
Eames rubs a hand over his chin. “That would mean no one killed him.”
“Right, of course not,” Arthur says dryly. “He obviously bludgeoned himself to death. My mistake.”
“No,” Eames snaps, “I’m saying there’s someone else in this mansion.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything for a moment, then asks quietly, “And what would make you think that?”
“Look, neither of us killed him,” Eames says, showing his untarnished candlestick. “And I know Ariadne didn’t - I overheard, she has the rope - and Saito has the revolver, neither of which could deal this kind of damage.”
Arthur’s eyes narrow as he thinks this through. “What about Cobb and Yusuf?”
Eames shakes his head. “Ariadne said Yusuf never left the first floor, and Cobb went off in the opposite direction. No one was near this room when the murder happened.”
Arthur sits back on his heels, looking pensive. “Could it be another projection?”
“Seems likely.”
“All right. But whose -”
A scream rings out from the floor below, and both men freeze.
“That was Ariadne,” Eames says, and then they’re both on their feet, racing for the door. They fly down the stairs, taking them two or three at a time, and find Ariadne standing at the threshold of the billiard room, looking horrified.
“What happened?” Arthur demands as soon as they get close, and Ariadne immediately runs to them. Eames puts an arm around her shoulders to steady her, as she seems to be shaking.
“Cobb’s dead,” she says. She nods in the direction of the billiard room. “Saito’s in there looking at his body.”
“I’ll go. You stay with Eames,” Arthur says, and strides into the room.
“Please tell me this wasn’t part of your original plan,” Ariadne says, sounding irritated, as she huddles close to Eames’ side.
“No,” Eames says, “this is unexpected. Have you been with Saito since you left the study?”
Ariadne blinks up at him. “Yes, how did you -?”
“Spying, darling, it works wonders. And you’re sure Yusuf is downstairs?”
“Fairly positive, yes.”
“Ariadne, we all need to know the layout of this maze. Right now.”
Ariadne licks her lips nervously. “Okay. But do you… do you think there’s someone else in this dream? A projection?”
“Let’s hope it’s a projection,” Eames mutters, and then Arthur and Saito come out of the billiard room, looking grim. “What’s the verdict?”
“It looks like Mr. Cobb was killed using the same method as the projection,” Saito says, fixing the cuffs of his green blazer. “It was not pretty.”
“And whoever did it has some skill,” Arthur adds. “It takes a lot to kill Dominic Cobb, even in a dream.”
“Great,” Ariadne says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “So what do we do now?”
“Well I don’t know about you,” Eames says, “but I want to know who the hell decided to crash our Clue party.”
“You propose we hunt down the projection?” Arthur asks.
“Precisely,” Eames says with a wicked grin. “We’re already in character, after all. I propose we get our Clue on.”
They agree to this plan and Ariadne quickly explains the layout before they all reveal which weapons they are carrying.
“And,” Ariadne adds as they stow the weapons once more, “Cobb is missing his weapon, which I’m pretty sure was the lead pipe.”
“That’s probably the murder weapon, then. The murderer could have stolen the pipe, killed Cobb, then killed Mr. Boddy,” Arthur says. Eames grins at him and Arthur makes a face. “What?”
“You called my projection Mr. Boddy,” Eames says. “You’re officially playing the game, Arthur. I must say, I’m a little teary-eyed.”
“Bite me.”
“We should probably stick together,” Ariadne says, ignoring them both with practiced ease. “We’ll go find Yusuf first. Has anyone actually seen him?”
“I think he entered the kitchen as soon as I found the secret passageway to the study,” Arthur says. “We could start there.”
They head downstairs and Ariadne leads them to the kitchen. She pauses outside the doorway.
“Um… guys?” she says, and points at a slowly spreading scarlet puddle on the ground. Arthur pulls her out of the way and steps forward, pushing the door open. It swings inward without a sound, revealing the pristine white kitchen marred only by a pool of blood and Yusuf’s motionless body.
“Shit,” Arthur mutters, hands clenching into fists at his sides.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Eames says. “Who the hell is picking us off?”
“Whoever it is, they’re definitely using the lead pipe as their weapon of choice,” says Saito, gesturing toward the discarded wrench beside Yusuf’s arm.
“Well, that’s comforting. What a good way to go,” Ariadne says, still taking refuge in sarcasm.
Then the lights go out again.
“Eames, was this part of your game?” Ariadne asks in the darkness.
“Definitely not. Stay close.” Eames reaches out and Ariadne grabs his hand, allowing herself to get reeled in against his side. “Arthur, you still here?”
“Yes. Saito?”
Silence.
“Saito!” Ariadne yells, her voice echoing oddly in the large mansion. Eames hears something scuff against the floor to his right, and then the revolver goes off with a deafening bang. Ariadne jumps and presses herself closer to Eames.
“Saito?” she asks again, more warily this time, but there is no reply.
The lights come back on. Saito is gone, but the revolver lies smoking on the ground.
“Okay, this is turning into a bad horror movie,” Ariadne says. “Maybe we should just go.”
“You go,” Arthur says, glaring at the smoking gun. “Eames and I will stay for as long as we can to try and catch this murderer.”
“Wonderful,” Eames says.
Arthur glances at him. “You’d rather just leave?”
“Of course not. That wasn’t sarcasm. There’s no need to be so defensive, Miss Scarlett,” Eames says. Arthur shoots him a venomous look, then stoops to pick up the revolver and aims it at Ariadne’s forehead with practiced calm.
“Tell Cobb we’ll be along soon,” he says. Ariadne nods, and Arthur fires.
As soon as the bullet hits, the entire mansion begins to rumble, becoming unsteady without its dreamer.
“So how are we going to catch this killer before the maze collapses?” Eames asks over the noise.
“Live bait,” Arthur says, handing Eames the gun. “Stay here. Wait until I call.” With that, he sprints off down the hall, easily dodging the plaster falling from the ceiling.
“Wait, what?” Eames yells after him, then curses to himself and follows at a more sedate pace, checking how many shots the gun has left.
He doesn’t get far before something rams into his side, slamming him painfully into the opposite wall. Eames grunts and shoves his attacker off, and the stranger staggers back before tripping over a pile of rubble. Eames lifts the gun and is about to shoot the murderer when he hears Arthur yell from down the hall. Eames looks up just in time to watch an entire beam of timber crack through the ceiling and swing down at him. He tries to jump out of the way but the beam still catches his legs, dragging him to the floor with excruciating force. Eames’ head cracks on the hardwood floor and he thinks his leg might be broken, and then Arthur is above him and the dark barrel of a Glock is in his face (Eames vaguely notes that Arthur must have dreamt that up himself, because Eames was determined for their game of Clue to be completely authentic).
“Sorry, I thought he’d go after me,” Arthur says.
“Just kill him,” Eames hisses through gritted teeth and Arthur shakes his head.
“He’s not going anywhere. I’ll take care of you first.” He smiles faintly and cocks the gun. “Think of this as payback for putting me in a dress.”
Eames barely has time to grin at that before the flash-bang of gunfire comes and he finds himself blinking awake in the warehouse.
Ariadne is sitting over him, looking fairly concerned, and Cobb is speaking with Saito quietly across the room. Yusuf is pacing near his chemicals.
“Well? Who was it?” Ariadne asks, taking the line from Eames and wrapping it up to replace it in the PASIV device. Eames sits up, rubbing his eyes.
“I haven’t the foggiest. He got the jump on me and then I got shot by Miss Scarlett,” he says.
“That’s going to be my new nickname, isn’t it?” Arthur asks, sitting up in the chair beside Eames and tugging the line out of his wrist.
“Only if you want it to be, darling,” Eames says.
“Did you at least see who the killer was?” Ariadne asks Arthur. Arthur cocks an eyebrow, apparently amused.
“Tim Curry,” he says.
Ariadne blinks. “As in… the actor, Tim Curry?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, fuck,” Eames says, dropping his head into his hands, and they both turn to him. He clears his throat, looking rather uncomfortable. “I, uh, might have watched the movie Clue last night, followed by a couple of horror films…”
Arthur groans and rolls his eyes, rising from his chair. “Eames…”
“Wait, what does that mean?” Ariadne asks.
“It means that Wadsworth melded with a serial killer in my subconscious and decided to come out to play,” Eames replies.
“Eames,” says Cobb, approaching their group, “you are officially no longer allowed to contribute to our training exercises.”
Eames sighs and slumps on his lawn chair. “Yeah, all right.”
- - -
IDK GUYS. THIS IS SO CRACKTASTIC AT SOME POINTS. I CAN'T EVEN. XD
Leave a comment if you like! <3
And then I finally finished my Inception/Clue fic for this prompt on inception_kink . YOU GUYS. IT IS 3000+ WORDS. IDK. IT GOT AWAY FROM ME. I HAVE ISSUES. But I hope this is at least close to what the prompter wanted.
So... ta-daaa! \o/
Title: Clue
Pairing/Rating: Gen; PG-13
Prompt: "LET'S PLAY CLUE, KIDS. Even better if Eames insists they all act out their guesses/talk like their characters. Extra win if Eames also makes them dress up and somehow manages to get Arthur as one of the ladies."
Summary: Eames comes up with an interesting idea for a training session. Things get out of hand.
- - -
“I think this is the strangest training exercise I’ve ever been a part of,” Cobb mutters, pulling the pith helmet off his head for closer inspection.
“Hey! No getting out of character!” Eames says, taking the pith helmet and jamming it back onto Cobb’s head. “You are Colonel Mustard. Colonel Mustard always wears a safari hat.”
“Eames.” Arthur’s voice is low and venomous, the way it is when he is trying to refrain from doing something violent. Eames turns to face the point man with a grin.
“Yes, Arthur?”
Arthur glares daggers and Eames knows that if looks could kill, he’d be pushing up daisies.
“Would you mind telling me why the hell I’m in a dress?”
Eames hears Cobb snort behind him, but luckily the mirth stops there; Cobb has known Arthur long enough to be wary of his temper.
“Because, Miss Scarlett, our team is short on ladies and that dress makes your legs look absolutely fantastic,” Eames says. Arthur’s eyes narrow even further - if that’s possible - and Eames sees his fingers twitch, probably wishing they were holding a weapon.
“If you do not tell me where I can go to change in this fucked up subconscious of yours, Mr. Eames, I will kill myself on the spot,” Arthur growls. Eames rolls his eyes.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I knew you’d be like this. Check the Lounge, there should be a suit in there for you. And wear the red tie!” Eames calls after Arthur’s hastily retreating form.
“You enjoy flirting with death, don’t you, Mr. Eames?” Saito asks with a grin as he joins them in the hall.
“Generally, yes,” Eames says, pleased to see that at least one member of the team is happily sporting his costume, albeit a green suit jacket and priest’s collar are not as embarrassing as a red strapless dress.
“Why do I have peacock feathers in my hair?” Ariadne asks when she finds them, clad in a shimmering blue gown and green shawl with pointed glasses perched on her nose.
“Because you’re Mrs. Peacock. I thought that would have been obvious,” Eames says.
“I feel ridiculous,” Yusuf mutters as he walks up to the group, fidgeting with his violet suit coat.
“Nice elbow patches, Professor,” Ariadne says. Yusuf sighs.
“Who are we missing?” Saito asks.
“Miss Scarlett,” Cobb says, grinning at Eames.
“You’re hilarious.” Arthur joins them, looking much more comfortable but no less menacing in a sleek black and white pin-stripe suit and scarlet tie.
“Wait,” Ariadne says. “If Arthur has to be Miss Scarlett, then who’s Mrs. White?”
“I am,” says Eames, gesturing at his white three-piece suit, complete with black shirt and tie.
“Then where’s your French maid outfit?” Ariadne asks.
“I’ll leave the cross-dressing to Arthur, sweetheart. This is as fancy as you’ll see me.”
“I thought something was off about you,” Arthur says, quirking an eyebrow. “You actually look clean for once.”
“Careful, Miss Scarlett, or I’ll put you back in heels,” Eames says with a wolfish grin.
“That’s enough,” Cobb says, stepping in between them before blows are exchanged. “Eames, this was your idea. What are we doing here?”
“Basically, we’re playing Clue,” Eames says. He moves over to a nearby door and opens it, revealing an opulent ballroom. In the middle of the room is a long table, and laid upon it are various weapons: an old pepper-box revolver, a sheathed dagger, a length of rope, a pewter candlestick, a slightly bent piece of lead piping, and a large monkey wrench.
“Ariadne was good enough to create this mansion for us,” Eames continues as the team gathers around the table. “There are nine rooms: a kitchen, a study, a conservatory, a billiard room, a library, a hall, a dining room, a lounge, and this ballroom.”
“So… it’s just like a Clue game board?” Yusuf asks, picking up the monkey wrench. Eames smacks his hand and the wrench drops back onto the table.
“Don’t touch anything until I say so,” he says, then adds, “And no, it’s not just a Clue game board. It’s a maze.”
“I’m missing the point of this exercise,” Arthur says, and Eames can see he’s dangerously close to the revolver so he hurries to explain.
“It’s a lesson in deduction,” Eames says. “One of us is going to kill the single projection - we’ll call him Mr. Boddy - wandering around the mansion, using one of these six weapons. Then we will use deduction skills to determine who the killer is.”
“How do we decide who’s going to kill the projection?” Ariadne asks.
“Whoever finds him first kills him.”
“Do we have to?” Yusuf asks.
“Yes,” Eames says. He looks at his watch. “In about one minute, the lights will go out. Everyone will grab a weapon from the table and spread out over the mansion to look for the projection. Once Mr. Boddy is dead, we will return to the ballroom and decide who killed him.”
“How will we know when he’s dead?” Arthur asks.
“Someone will have to shout.”
“Who shouts, the murderer or whoever finds the body?” Cobb asks.
“I don’t know, either one, just… someone shout. All right?” Eames asks. Cobb grumbles something noncommittal and turns to the table, looking over the assortment of weapons. Eames checks his wristwatch again.
“All right, the lights will go out in five… four…”
The lights go out.
“Punctual, as usual,” says Arthur’s disembodied voice through the darkness.
“Just grab a weapon and go kill something,” Eames growls, and heads in the direction of the table, groping for whichever weapon is left. His fingers meet with cool metal and he hefts the weapon, determining from the weight and shape that he has the candlestick. He hears doors opening and closing around him, one dull thud and an apology from Yusuf, and then silence.
Eames leaves the ballroom and heads left. He reaches a stairwell just as the lights turn back on and finds himself completely alone. He pauses on the steps and listens, but the mansion is silent. A wolfish grin spreads across his face.
Everyone is playing.
Eames wanders the second floor for a few minutes before he hears footsteps echo on the floor above him. He twirls the candlestick in his hand, deciding it’s finally time to get serious. He climbs the nearest set of stairs without a sound and hugs the wall in the upper corridor, peering around corners to see who is up there with him. At the end of the hall he sees the open door to what must be the study, judging by the large oaken desk inside. There are shadows moving in the doorway.
Eames creeps closer until he can hear snatches of conversation.
“- already dead?” That sounds like Saito.
“I’m telling you, this is how I found him.” The other voice is definitely Ariadne.
“You really expect me to believe that?”
“Saito, I don’t make a habit of bashing in people’s skulls. Besides, I have the rope. See?”
Apparently Saito does see, because he sounds much less suspicious when he says, “Then who managed to kill the projection so quickly?”
“I’m guessing either Arthur or Eames. I know Cobb went the other way, and Yusuf stayed on the first floor.”
“Should we tell everyone the projection is dead?” (Eames has to restrain himself from shouting at Saito to call the projection “Mr. Boddy.”)
“No,” Ariadne says, and Eames recognizes that tone of voice; it’s the same as when she’s plotting out a particularly difficult maze. “No, we should let someone else find the body. We’ll draw less attention to ourselves that way.”
“Fair enough,” Saito says, and then the two of them leave the study and Eames is forced to duck into a tiny alcove to avoid being seen.
Peering into the hall first to make sure the coast is clear, Eames hurries to the library to get a look at the body.
But he is not alone.
Arthur is crouched over the projection’s body, studying something or other, but his head snaps up as soon as Eames enters the room, and the dagger flashes in his hand.
“Easy, easy,” Eames says, holding his hands up. “Calm yourself, Arthur, my goodness.”
Arthur glares but he lowers the knife and goes back to studying the body.
“How the hell did you get here so fast?” Eames asks. Arthur glances up at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Secret passageway, from the kitchen,” he says. “Ariadne remained very loyal to the game board when she made this maze.”
“Apparently,” Eames mutters, then joins Arthur in inspecting the body. It appears that poor Mr. Boddy was bludgeoned to death, as his skull is completely mashed and leaking all over the beautiful carpet.
“Do you know who killed him?” Arthur asks, and Eames looks at him in surprise.
“You mean you didn’t?” he asks, and Arthur flashes him an exasperated look before holding up the dagger, obviously not the murder weapon. Eames frowns. “But then…”
“What?”
Eames rubs a hand over his chin. “That would mean no one killed him.”
“Right, of course not,” Arthur says dryly. “He obviously bludgeoned himself to death. My mistake.”
“No,” Eames snaps, “I’m saying there’s someone else in this mansion.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything for a moment, then asks quietly, “And what would make you think that?”
“Look, neither of us killed him,” Eames says, showing his untarnished candlestick. “And I know Ariadne didn’t - I overheard, she has the rope - and Saito has the revolver, neither of which could deal this kind of damage.”
Arthur’s eyes narrow as he thinks this through. “What about Cobb and Yusuf?”
Eames shakes his head. “Ariadne said Yusuf never left the first floor, and Cobb went off in the opposite direction. No one was near this room when the murder happened.”
Arthur sits back on his heels, looking pensive. “Could it be another projection?”
“Seems likely.”
“All right. But whose -”
A scream rings out from the floor below, and both men freeze.
“That was Ariadne,” Eames says, and then they’re both on their feet, racing for the door. They fly down the stairs, taking them two or three at a time, and find Ariadne standing at the threshold of the billiard room, looking horrified.
“What happened?” Arthur demands as soon as they get close, and Ariadne immediately runs to them. Eames puts an arm around her shoulders to steady her, as she seems to be shaking.
“Cobb’s dead,” she says. She nods in the direction of the billiard room. “Saito’s in there looking at his body.”
“I’ll go. You stay with Eames,” Arthur says, and strides into the room.
“Please tell me this wasn’t part of your original plan,” Ariadne says, sounding irritated, as she huddles close to Eames’ side.
“No,” Eames says, “this is unexpected. Have you been with Saito since you left the study?”
Ariadne blinks up at him. “Yes, how did you -?”
“Spying, darling, it works wonders. And you’re sure Yusuf is downstairs?”
“Fairly positive, yes.”
“Ariadne, we all need to know the layout of this maze. Right now.”
Ariadne licks her lips nervously. “Okay. But do you… do you think there’s someone else in this dream? A projection?”
“Let’s hope it’s a projection,” Eames mutters, and then Arthur and Saito come out of the billiard room, looking grim. “What’s the verdict?”
“It looks like Mr. Cobb was killed using the same method as the projection,” Saito says, fixing the cuffs of his green blazer. “It was not pretty.”
“And whoever did it has some skill,” Arthur adds. “It takes a lot to kill Dominic Cobb, even in a dream.”
“Great,” Ariadne says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “So what do we do now?”
“Well I don’t know about you,” Eames says, “but I want to know who the hell decided to crash our Clue party.”
“You propose we hunt down the projection?” Arthur asks.
“Precisely,” Eames says with a wicked grin. “We’re already in character, after all. I propose we get our Clue on.”
They agree to this plan and Ariadne quickly explains the layout before they all reveal which weapons they are carrying.
“And,” Ariadne adds as they stow the weapons once more, “Cobb is missing his weapon, which I’m pretty sure was the lead pipe.”
“That’s probably the murder weapon, then. The murderer could have stolen the pipe, killed Cobb, then killed Mr. Boddy,” Arthur says. Eames grins at him and Arthur makes a face. “What?”
“You called my projection Mr. Boddy,” Eames says. “You’re officially playing the game, Arthur. I must say, I’m a little teary-eyed.”
“Bite me.”
“We should probably stick together,” Ariadne says, ignoring them both with practiced ease. “We’ll go find Yusuf first. Has anyone actually seen him?”
“I think he entered the kitchen as soon as I found the secret passageway to the study,” Arthur says. “We could start there.”
They head downstairs and Ariadne leads them to the kitchen. She pauses outside the doorway.
“Um… guys?” she says, and points at a slowly spreading scarlet puddle on the ground. Arthur pulls her out of the way and steps forward, pushing the door open. It swings inward without a sound, revealing the pristine white kitchen marred only by a pool of blood and Yusuf’s motionless body.
“Shit,” Arthur mutters, hands clenching into fists at his sides.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Eames says. “Who the hell is picking us off?”
“Whoever it is, they’re definitely using the lead pipe as their weapon of choice,” says Saito, gesturing toward the discarded wrench beside Yusuf’s arm.
“Well, that’s comforting. What a good way to go,” Ariadne says, still taking refuge in sarcasm.
Then the lights go out again.
“Eames, was this part of your game?” Ariadne asks in the darkness.
“Definitely not. Stay close.” Eames reaches out and Ariadne grabs his hand, allowing herself to get reeled in against his side. “Arthur, you still here?”
“Yes. Saito?”
Silence.
“Saito!” Ariadne yells, her voice echoing oddly in the large mansion. Eames hears something scuff against the floor to his right, and then the revolver goes off with a deafening bang. Ariadne jumps and presses herself closer to Eames.
“Saito?” she asks again, more warily this time, but there is no reply.
The lights come back on. Saito is gone, but the revolver lies smoking on the ground.
“Okay, this is turning into a bad horror movie,” Ariadne says. “Maybe we should just go.”
“You go,” Arthur says, glaring at the smoking gun. “Eames and I will stay for as long as we can to try and catch this murderer.”
“Wonderful,” Eames says.
Arthur glances at him. “You’d rather just leave?”
“Of course not. That wasn’t sarcasm. There’s no need to be so defensive, Miss Scarlett,” Eames says. Arthur shoots him a venomous look, then stoops to pick up the revolver and aims it at Ariadne’s forehead with practiced calm.
“Tell Cobb we’ll be along soon,” he says. Ariadne nods, and Arthur fires.
As soon as the bullet hits, the entire mansion begins to rumble, becoming unsteady without its dreamer.
“So how are we going to catch this killer before the maze collapses?” Eames asks over the noise.
“Live bait,” Arthur says, handing Eames the gun. “Stay here. Wait until I call.” With that, he sprints off down the hall, easily dodging the plaster falling from the ceiling.
“Wait, what?” Eames yells after him, then curses to himself and follows at a more sedate pace, checking how many shots the gun has left.
He doesn’t get far before something rams into his side, slamming him painfully into the opposite wall. Eames grunts and shoves his attacker off, and the stranger staggers back before tripping over a pile of rubble. Eames lifts the gun and is about to shoot the murderer when he hears Arthur yell from down the hall. Eames looks up just in time to watch an entire beam of timber crack through the ceiling and swing down at him. He tries to jump out of the way but the beam still catches his legs, dragging him to the floor with excruciating force. Eames’ head cracks on the hardwood floor and he thinks his leg might be broken, and then Arthur is above him and the dark barrel of a Glock is in his face (Eames vaguely notes that Arthur must have dreamt that up himself, because Eames was determined for their game of Clue to be completely authentic).
“Sorry, I thought he’d go after me,” Arthur says.
“Just kill him,” Eames hisses through gritted teeth and Arthur shakes his head.
“He’s not going anywhere. I’ll take care of you first.” He smiles faintly and cocks the gun. “Think of this as payback for putting me in a dress.”
Eames barely has time to grin at that before the flash-bang of gunfire comes and he finds himself blinking awake in the warehouse.
Ariadne is sitting over him, looking fairly concerned, and Cobb is speaking with Saito quietly across the room. Yusuf is pacing near his chemicals.
“Well? Who was it?” Ariadne asks, taking the line from Eames and wrapping it up to replace it in the PASIV device. Eames sits up, rubbing his eyes.
“I haven’t the foggiest. He got the jump on me and then I got shot by Miss Scarlett,” he says.
“That’s going to be my new nickname, isn’t it?” Arthur asks, sitting up in the chair beside Eames and tugging the line out of his wrist.
“Only if you want it to be, darling,” Eames says.
“Did you at least see who the killer was?” Ariadne asks Arthur. Arthur cocks an eyebrow, apparently amused.
“Tim Curry,” he says.
Ariadne blinks. “As in… the actor, Tim Curry?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, fuck,” Eames says, dropping his head into his hands, and they both turn to him. He clears his throat, looking rather uncomfortable. “I, uh, might have watched the movie Clue last night, followed by a couple of horror films…”
Arthur groans and rolls his eyes, rising from his chair. “Eames…”
“Wait, what does that mean?” Ariadne asks.
“It means that Wadsworth melded with a serial killer in my subconscious and decided to come out to play,” Eames replies.
“Eames,” says Cobb, approaching their group, “you are officially no longer allowed to contribute to our training exercises.”
Eames sighs and slumps on his lawn chair. “Yeah, all right.”
- - -
IDK GUYS. THIS IS SO CRACKTASTIC AT SOME POINTS. I CAN'T EVEN. XD
Leave a comment if you like! <3