(no subject)
For the Round 4 Ariadne/Arthur kink-meme prompt: "Ariadne is a BAMF." Turned out gen instead of shippy, and I apologize for that, but I hope it suits all the same anon
Title: Can we try with real bullets now?
“Sorry about your scarf.” Arthur said, voice tight as Ariadne finished tying the scarf in question around his arm in some combination of makeshift bandage and tourniquet.
“Don’t worry about it.” She said, managing a smile, even though it pained her to see Arthur, her calm, collected, calculating Arthur in pain with nothing she could do but wait, “It’s just a dream, remember?”
He remembered, and that was the root of their problem, it was a dream and Arthur was dreaming it. The whole thing had gone to hell and they still had to wait and see if Eames had managed to finish the job, since they wouldn’t now if he had until he either came to find them or gave them a kick.
“Shit.” Ariadne said softly, having caught a reflection in the mirror overhead.
She liked mirrors as a design element because they could make a space feel infinite or claustrophobic, sometimes both. The mirror in this instance was a big, round security fisheye, like the kind used for banks or supermarkets. Of course, it made sense, since that was where they’d currently taken refuge, the well-looted hulk of what had once been a bustling neighborhood market.
“What is it?” Arthur asked, keeping his voice low.
“Incoming.” She replied, holding out a hand, “Give me your gun.”
He was about to question it, but there was a finality in her tone that he hadn’t heard before. The question of ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ was clear in his expression, but never made it past his lips as he handed the weapon over. She nodded once at the unspoken question, “Stay here.” She murmured, slipping off around the far corner of the shelf, using the mirrors to navigate, counting how many projections were stalking them.
Four, maybe five, she could handle those odds, just as long as she kept them away from Arthur, and the shooting didn’t alert more of them.
She wasn’t sure if they could be distracted by sound, but she tried it anyway, hefting a chunk of rubble and hurling it to clatter into a shelf on the far side of her current vantage point. She grinned when it worked and the projections turned almost in unison towards the sound. She was no sniper, not hardly, but she was quick and she’d already pegged where they were, which made it easy to both take them by surprise and conserve ammo.
Arthur kept quiet, listening, he jumped when the first shot rang out, counting three shots from his gun, he knew the sound of it well enough to recognize it even out of his own hands. There was a rapid-fire barrage from someone else’s gun, a cry cut short, the voice too deep to be Ariadne’s, and another pair of shots from his gun followed by an almost deafening silence, heavy and weighted.
He wanted to call out, make sure she was alright, but he knew he couldn’t risk drawing attention to either of them if she hadn’t dispatched all of the projections.
It was another long moment before one last shot sounded and Ariadne returned, tumbling down beside him and offering the gun back, “Okay, we’re good for now.” It was right about then that Eames arrived, picking his way across the bodies Ariadne had left, “Well that could have gone better.“ He said, finally reaching the other two, shaking his head, “And what have you been doing in here, Arthur?” he asked, one brow arching before he got a good look the pair, though the second one followed, gaze going first to Arthur’s injury, then to the gun in Ariadne’s hand, then to Ariadne herself, “Ah, I see it wasn’t Arthur at all, it was our little badass finally showing her true colors, hm?” He smiled, shaking his head, “Not going to have to start calling you Mathilda…” That was as far as he got before Ariadne had shot him between the eyes.
“Sorry.” She said to Arthur, who had jumped again at the shot, “Just didn’t want to deal with his snark right now, getting on my last nerve kind of deal.” She shook her head, sighing, “Never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
“Not until he gets tired of it, no.” Arthur said, a faint smile sliding into place, though it was gone just as easily, as his smiles were prone to doing. It made Ariadne smile as well, shaking her head, “See you upstairs.” She said before pulling the trigger again.
Title: Can we try with real bullets now?
“Sorry about your scarf.” Arthur said, voice tight as Ariadne finished tying the scarf in question around his arm in some combination of makeshift bandage and tourniquet.
“Don’t worry about it.” She said, managing a smile, even though it pained her to see Arthur, her calm, collected, calculating Arthur in pain with nothing she could do but wait, “It’s just a dream, remember?”
He remembered, and that was the root of their problem, it was a dream and Arthur was dreaming it. The whole thing had gone to hell and they still had to wait and see if Eames had managed to finish the job, since they wouldn’t now if he had until he either came to find them or gave them a kick.
“Shit.” Ariadne said softly, having caught a reflection in the mirror overhead.
She liked mirrors as a design element because they could make a space feel infinite or claustrophobic, sometimes both. The mirror in this instance was a big, round security fisheye, like the kind used for banks or supermarkets. Of course, it made sense, since that was where they’d currently taken refuge, the well-looted hulk of what had once been a bustling neighborhood market.
“What is it?” Arthur asked, keeping his voice low.
“Incoming.” She replied, holding out a hand, “Give me your gun.”
He was about to question it, but there was a finality in her tone that he hadn’t heard before. The question of ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ was clear in his expression, but never made it past his lips as he handed the weapon over. She nodded once at the unspoken question, “Stay here.” She murmured, slipping off around the far corner of the shelf, using the mirrors to navigate, counting how many projections were stalking them.
Four, maybe five, she could handle those odds, just as long as she kept them away from Arthur, and the shooting didn’t alert more of them.
She wasn’t sure if they could be distracted by sound, but she tried it anyway, hefting a chunk of rubble and hurling it to clatter into a shelf on the far side of her current vantage point. She grinned when it worked and the projections turned almost in unison towards the sound. She was no sniper, not hardly, but she was quick and she’d already pegged where they were, which made it easy to both take them by surprise and conserve ammo.
Arthur kept quiet, listening, he jumped when the first shot rang out, counting three shots from his gun, he knew the sound of it well enough to recognize it even out of his own hands. There was a rapid-fire barrage from someone else’s gun, a cry cut short, the voice too deep to be Ariadne’s, and another pair of shots from his gun followed by an almost deafening silence, heavy and weighted.
He wanted to call out, make sure she was alright, but he knew he couldn’t risk drawing attention to either of them if she hadn’t dispatched all of the projections.
It was another long moment before one last shot sounded and Ariadne returned, tumbling down beside him and offering the gun back, “Okay, we’re good for now.” It was right about then that Eames arrived, picking his way across the bodies Ariadne had left, “Well that could have gone better.“ He said, finally reaching the other two, shaking his head, “And what have you been doing in here, Arthur?” he asked, one brow arching before he got a good look the pair, though the second one followed, gaze going first to Arthur’s injury, then to the gun in Ariadne’s hand, then to Ariadne herself, “Ah, I see it wasn’t Arthur at all, it was our little badass finally showing her true colors, hm?” He smiled, shaking his head, “Not going to have to start calling you Mathilda…” That was as far as he got before Ariadne had shot him between the eyes.
“Sorry.” She said to Arthur, who had jumped again at the shot, “Just didn’t want to deal with his snark right now, getting on my last nerve kind of deal.” She shook her head, sighing, “Never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
“Not until he gets tired of it, no.” Arthur said, a faint smile sliding into place, though it was gone just as easily, as his smiles were prone to doing. It made Ariadne smile as well, shaking her head, “See you upstairs.” She said before pulling the trigger again.