The BAMF Meme
Happy Inception DVD release day! And what better way to celebrate than...
The Inception Competence Meme
AKA,
The BAMF MemeCobb catching the shell casings as they fall from his gun before they can hit the ground. Ariadne redesigning dreams only moments after learning it's possible. Arthur dropping his team in zero gravity in less than three ( Read more... )
The Inception Competence Meme
AKA,
The BAMF MemeCobb catching the shell casings as they fall from his gun before they can hit the ground. Ariadne redesigning dreams only moments after learning it's possible. Arthur dropping his team in zero gravity in less than three ( Read more... )
I have to say that one of my favorite things about Eames is how badass he is. It's not that everyone else isn't, but he actively projects this sort of nonchalance and then wham he takes care of business. So this one's for you, sir.
***
When Arthur disappears from the dream, his absence preceded momentarily by comically widened eyes, Eames turns up the charm. He doesn’t have time to worry about what might have caused Arthur to wake up. He has to trust that Arthur can take care of his end.
With a light hand on Carol Brown’s back, he escorts her into the main dining area of the restaurant they’re in. She looks up at him, her prodigal husband, with a watery smile.
He pulls her chair out for her and makes sure she is comfortable before seating himself. A black clad waiter slides full plates in front of them and fills their wine glasses, but Carol barely notices. Instead, her focus is all on Eames, who is holding her hand across the table and gazing into her eyes.
“Carol, I’ve miss you so much,” he says, eyes shining with sincerity. “I was stupid to leave you again and I’m not going anywhere this time. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Carol says, and over her shoulder Eames catches sight of Cobb, still at the bar, making hurry-it-up motions.
“Tell me everything you’ve been doing since I left. I want to really know you again. How are the kids?”
“Oh Bruce,” Carol gushes, and starts in on some anecdote about Charlie, their eleven year old terror. Eames nods, grimaces and chuckles in all the right places. He hides his impatience by taking sips of his wine.
The room starts to shake, but Carol takes no notice as she concludes her story.
“And work?” Eames asks. He was supposed to have a lengthy dinner to bring up this topic, to get her to trust him, but this’ll have to do.
At least partial success: a guilty look flashes over Carol’s features before she covers it with a smile.
“Work’s been the same. You know: I just sit at my computer all day.”
The stilted half-laugh seals the deal and Eames gives Cobb a slight nod. He continues asking leading questions about Carol’s job as a stock-market analyst to keep her mind on the subject of whatever she’s hiding.
Cobb makes his way over and fakes a stumble against Carol’s chair. In the confusion of Eames’s over-reaction, Carol’s genuine surprise and Cobb’s apology, he makes off with her purse.
Which is when things really go to shit.
The restaurant’s been shaking intermittently this entire time, but now it gives its biggest jolt yet. Tables get overturned and projections fall out of their seats. Cobb falls too, then disappears.
Eames is out of his seat right away, rushing to pick up the purse Cobb left behind on the floor. Without a look back at Carol, whom he can hear calling “John! John!”, he pushes through the wary projections and into the steamy kitchens.
Now that the projections are suspicious of what’s going on, he’s going to have to buy himself some time to review the contents of the mark’s purse. He’s the dreamer and with a quick glance at his watch he confirms that he ought to have plenty of dreamtime. But there’s not telling what’s happening up top and whether or not he’ll get pulled out as unceremoniously as Arthur and Cobb.
The second issue is that this dreamscape is not particularly large. They’re not working with Ariadne on this one and it shows. Eames has two options: either he can run about the circular street outside, or try the rooftop. He picks height and dashes out onto the loading dock.
With the stupid purse swinging from one shoulder, he jumps up and pulls down the fire escape ladder. He scrambles up just in time to avoid a knife-wielding projection. From the relative safety of the fire escape, Eames pulls out a semi-automatic and picks off several of the projections headed his way.
He races up to the roof, pulling up the ladder behind him. Once up top, he is afforded him a brilliant view of projections rioting on all sides, setting fires and screaming. He hunkers down against the small outcropping ,which leads to the internal staircase, after crudely blocking the door with a piece of scrap metal. It’s not much in terms of cover, but it’ll have to do.
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Interspersed with shooting at particularly agile projections trying to climb the face of the building, Eames learns that Carol has been engaged in some form of insider trading for the past year. She’s thoughtfully marked down every single interaction she’s had with Mercer, some sort of financial futures group. Dollars to donuts that’s who’s causing trouble in the real world, since they’ll be going down with Carol when Eames reports back with his findings.
By the time Eames thinks he’s got nearly all he’s going to understand, he wakes up. It’s a shock to readjust to his new surroundings, not least because he’s not where he was when he fell asleep.
The first thing he notices is that Arthur is leaning over him, still holding the dislodged lead. The second thing he notices is that Arthur’s whole front is a awash with blood. Arthur glances at him to make sure he’s awake, then straightens somewhat in order to return to shooting over the dining room table.
The PASIV is between Eames and Carol, who is still asleep, for the moment. He can feel by the rug burn that he’s been dragged from Carol Brown’s living room.
“Soler brought Mercer in.” Arthur says, ducking down in response to return fire. He’s referring to the man responsible for staying up top.
“Little shite,” Eames says, then grabs Arthur’s gun out of his hands in order to shoot around him at the man trying to creep up on them from the kitchen.
Arthur glances at the fallen man, then down at Eames. He is reacting much too slowly to be comforting.
Arthur wipes flecks of blood off his lips before speaking. “Did you get it?”
Eames nods. “Where’s Cobb?”
“Upstairs, I think, dealing with the rest.”
Arthur collapses half-onto Eames very slowly, like he’s moving underwater.
“Excellent,” Eames mutters, and extricates himself as gently as he can. He checks Arthur’s pulse, but there’s not much he can do for him at the moment. With a grimace, he turns to the situation at hand.
There’s still the one guy in the living room to deal with and Eames decides to err on the side of bluster by rocketing out from under the table and slamming into the man before he can get a shot off. After a brief tussle, the man is dead and Eames is taking the stairs two at a time.
He can hear the sounds of fighting coming from the son’s bedroom and rushes in. The kids are off visiting their grandparents, so at least they’re no worry. Cobb is struggling to disarm the last man over a pile of collapsed bodies. Eames reaches in and grabs the man by the face in order to hold him still enough to shoot in the neck.
“Let’s go,” Cobb says, moving to stumble out of the room, also bleeding heavily.
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Carol has woken up and is staring at all the blood and bodies littering her downstairs whilst screaming her head off. Eames goes first to the PASIV case and the syringe tucked into a side compartment. Carol tries to scramble away from him when he reaches for her, but she’s in too much shock to move quickly so he is able to jab her directly in the neck. She collapses straight away, mercifully silent.
Cobb makes it down the stairs, looking not terribly better than Arthur, who is a truly worrying waxy shade and breathing only shallowly.
“Ring the police,” Eames orders, “and then get ready to go.”
Cobb reaches for Carol’s landline and makes the call while Eames packs up the PASIV. Cobb takes the case while Eames carries Arthur out to the car slung over his shoulder.
The last thing he does before driving away, tires squealing, is to start a messy grease-fire on the kitchen range. His hope is for the fast-spreading flames to disguise their fingerprints and bloodstains. He drags Carol to the doorway then leaves.
Cobb passes out while Eames speeds to the nearest hospital. He’s thankful that Arthur made him memorize the route, just in case. When he pulls up at the A&E entrance, he quickly pulls out two new American licenses for Cobb and Arthur, replacing their own in their wallets just as the orderlies arrive.
He masks his action of reaching into Arthur’s suit jacket by pressing his hands flat against Arthur’s stomach. Arthur groans in pain.
Eames follows into the building at a job, trying to keep a hand on Arthur’s shoulder only to be jostled out of the way. At the doors into the surgery, a nurse stops him with a hand on his chest. He attempts to push past her, impatient.
“Sir!” she snaps. “You can’t go back there. I need you to follow me to an examination room.”
Frustrated, Eames does as he’s told, pacing while he waits. He wants to be doing something, wants to be making things better because now that he’s not moving, now that’s forced to wait, all he can think about is how long Arthur’s been passed out, how much blood he’s lost and how that cannot be good at all.
A doctor comes in and forces him to sit and take his shirt off.
“You’re going to need several stitches here, here and here,” the doctor says, pointing.
Eames looks down, surprised. He hadn’t even noticed being hurt.
“You’re experiencing a severe adrenaline rush,” the doctor says in a calming voice.. “Take deep breaths and try to stop fidgeting, all right?”
“My friends,” Eames says.
“They’ll be fine. They’ve both gone into surgery but their prognosis is good. You did the right thing by brining them here as fast as possible.”
Eames can’t tell if he’s being bullshitted or not, a sure sign in itself that he’s not in his right mind. Pressing his lips together, he allows the doctor to swab at his wounds and patch him up.
When the doctor’s done with him, he gets ushered into a waiting room by a sympathetic nurse who wraps a blanket around his shoulder. He’s left with an encyclopedia’s worth of forms to full out which he does whilst keeping one eye on the surgery doors the entire time. He thinks he’s remembered all the information associated with their various aliases correctly but honestly he can’t be bothered to make sure. The only thing he really cares about is that he gets to see Arthur soon.
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“Your friends Mr Avery and Mr Jones are in stable condition. Mr Jones has had a blood transfusion and is resting now. Mr Avery sustained several gunshots and required emergency surgery to repair damage done to the abdominal cavity. He should make a fully recovery.”
Eames nearly collapses with the surge of pure relief that goes through him at the doctor’s words. “Can I see him?” he asks.
The doctor nods and leads him to a double room where both Cobb and Arthur lie in identical white beds, attached to IVs. The beeping of their heart monitors is just out of sync.
Eames goes straight to Arthur’s side and collapses into the chair there. He holds Arthur’s hand and presses his head against his hip. For what feels like the first time since Arthur disappeared, he can take a deep breath.
Weak fingers return his grip and he turns his head to see Arthur looking at him through half-open eyes.
“Go to sleep, Mr Eames,” Arthur whispers.
Eames smiles and closes his eyes.
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