Fic: Memoirs of the Hunted: A History, a Charmer, and a Wave (2/?)
Title: Memoirs of the Hunted: A History, a Charmer, and a Wave (2/?)
Fandom: Inception AU
Pairings or Characters: Eventual Eames/Arthur, Dominic Cobb/Mallorie Cobb, Yusuf, Nash
Genre: Suspense/Mystery/Superpower AU
Word Count: 1770
Warning: Character Death.
Summary:
"You want to open the package, more than anything. We understand. We felt that longing once too. But before you do, we implore you to read these pages first."
Set in an AU world. Humans with inhuman powers known as Psychics are constantly pursued by Suits, members of a dark, government branch simply known as Annex. A normal college girl discovers a mysterious package, and is drawn into something much, much bigger than she could have ever dreamed of.
A/N: Here's Chapter 2! Not really sure where I'm taking this, but onward with the story.
Previous Chapters:
( Memoirs of the Hunted: A Package, A Foreword, and a Girl (1/?) )
---
We've always been around, walking among you, going about our own lives. I used to have a job, as an office assistant, if you can believe that. We appear normal at first-we're your friends, your parents, your children, your fellow human beings.
Yet, because of one little genetic anomaly, we're treated in a vastly different manner.
We are Psychics.
There are many different types of Psychics, often broken up into groups. You have your Elementals (Pyros, Fluids, Zephyrs, Rocks), Brains (Extractors, Charmers, Telepaths), Shaders (Forgers, Glamours, Blotters), Creators (Architects, Synthesizers)--I could go on and on, really. Some are more valuable than others, but all are highly sought by Annex.
Years ago, in the midst of World War II, we began to emerge from the woodwork, brought out by Hitler's promise of a better life for the genetic 'mistakes', and Truman's promise of total safety.
Both sides were lying through their teeth.
Germany, with the help of numerous 'scientists' and 'doctors' ran and funded years of invasive, tortuous research on the beings that came to be known as Psychics.
Here's the kicker: America did the same.
The only difference between the two is that America managed to mostly bury its dark past of experiments and torture, while Germany didn't.
Over the years, Psychics were loved and feared, hated and revered. Some went on to be weapons, more powerful than any nuclear bomb. But we all have one fatal flaw, in every government's eyes. We're free-willed, and for the most part, extremely headstrong. Many of us didn't take kindly to the experiments being done on our brethren, so we rebelled.
The rebellion was squashed, almost instantaneously. We weren't strong enough, and there were too few of us to really rise up. This was in my parent's time, in the sixties and seventies. The war went on and on, until our numbers dwindled and we were forced to move to the Underground.
A phenomenon started taking place around the time I was born, in the late eighties. We call it the Purge. Every other government calls it the 'Age of Advancement'. Psychics were taken into custody (kidnapped would be a more appropriate term), children stolen away from their parents in the dead of night, people taken from their homes in broad daylight, hauled away in sleek, dark cars by men from the government. The First Wave were the least fortunate, and nearly every single one died from the treatment they underwent, the various diagnostic tests and drugs injected into their bodies sucking the life out of them until there was nothing left.
The Second Wave was slightly more 'successful'--but rather than lacking free will, they lacked self control. They became Brutes, virtually uncontrollable, destructive creatures locked within a human shell. Several escaped, and now the Brutes run rampant, a danger to everyone. There's a bounty placed on their heads-not as high as a normal Psychic, but high enough to make people seriously consider quitting their day jobs to become Hunters.
The Third Wave...well, they were the successful bunch, now known as the Suits. They think, feel and reason much like a human does, but they've been so brainwashed and drugged that they can only do what the government tells them to. Modern-day Psychics that fall into the wrong hands are often shuffled into the Suits program after rigorous conditioning. Some of the more intelligent Suits are allowed to keep their free will, the higher-ups if you will. They're given a drug to heighten their powers to the max, one that is very controlled, and virtually impossible to find, lest it fall into the hands of the Rebellion.
And that, reader, is where this tale begins.
---
October 15th
Honestly, I can't fathom what Annex was thinking (the actual branch that deals with the drug and Psychs is some ridiculously long, pompous name, so we tend to refer to the bastards as 'Annex'). Getting it was supposed to be child's play (well, almost, but we'll get to that in a bit). The only 'guards' were a few low-level Blotters, accompanied by a Charmer.
The former were no problem, but the Charmer proved to be a tad difficult. He was no match for Seven, who broke his mind with swift precision.
Did I mention Seven still scares the piss out of me, even after all these years?
Right then. Well, the drug was supposedly made in a low-level, low-security sky scraper, with a series of Underground labs. Annex took the term 'hiding in plain sight' a little too literally.
Unfortunately Nash, the wanker, was feeding us all the wrong information.
Yes, you heard me right, we had a squealer on our hands. He had double crossed all of us, was actually a Suit, you get the idea. We were led straight into a bloody trap tonight. I've got no qualms about writing his real name here rather than his code one. In fact, in case you didn't catch it the first time, here it is again: DREW NASH. He was a Sleuth, and a terrible one at that. Good riddance, I say.
So anyway, we entered the building after disposing of the guards...
---
The team moved quickly, each one slipping off into a different direction as soon as they entered the lab. Nash, curiously, was shaking and sweating profusely, his eyes shifting between the two doors as he looked. The others marked it off simply as fear-he, after all, was the one who led him here. He stood to loose the most if he was caught. Arthur, a lean man with a two hand-guns, moved to guard one entrance, while Eames, who was more burly and carried a gun to match, went to the other.
A tall, slim woman moved immediately towards a case, a sketchbook in hand. A detailed drawing, almost a snapshot of the very area, showed as she held it up. The shelves of vials in the sketch matched the ones in the metal case exactly. “Yusuf, 'ere it is.” she voiced confidently, her French accent strong as ever.
The others all turned as Yusuf scurried over to examine the case, ramming glasses on his nose as he did so. He was a shorter, pudgy man, with curls, dark skin, and a trimmed beard. The contrast between him and Mal would be laughable, if the situation weren't so serious. He stooped low, stubby fingers feeling along every seam, prying at every crack. He tugged in a few spots, before glancing helplessly at the eager faces. “I can't open it. If I can't get the vial, in my hands, then I can't replicate it.”
Another member moved forward this time, his actions swift, clear purpose behind each one. “That's why you have me. Mal, you've done wonderfully.” Dominic Cobb said, placing a quick kiss on his wife's cheek. The man knelt in front of the vials, an instant look of concentration taking over his face.
They were all under a lot of pressure on this job. Normally, on missions like this they could at least train and prepare themselves, but nothing could prepare them for this.
Sweat beading on his forehead, Dom placed both hands on the smooth metal, lips pursed as they glowed with a faint light. Slowly, the metal dissolved under his hands, replaced by a rippling, clear circle. Reaching in, he carefully pulled a tray of the vials out, seven in total. As soon as he lost contact with the metal it reappeared, as though nothing had happened.
Mal was smiling, as Cobb loaded a padded case carefully with each vial. “And zat, my friends was a parfait Extraction.” the woman announced proudly.
The man straightened up to pull more vials out, when both doors slammed open. Snapping the case shut, he shoved it in his backpack, his movements lightning quick.
The chaos that followed was one that seemed to follow Suits everywhere. Cobb drew both guns and shouted above the din for everyone to get out, before he tossed his bag to Arthur and opened fire.
Three units of Suits invaded the area, nine members total. Yusuf took the team leader's orders and immediately fled out the back, never having been much use in a fight. Nash was trying to edge out but Eames had his gun on the man in an instant-the figure went still but dropped like a fly, Arthur firing the fatal shot. The two men exchanged glances, a grim, unspoken agreement passing between them, quicker than Arthur's bullet had gone through Nash's head.
They had been betrayed.
Mal threw up a force field to deflect the first onslaught of tranquilizing darts, but wasn't swift enough. One caught her in the shoulder and instantly, any chance of defense that they had was gone. Two Suits went down by Eames' hand, a third by Arthur's. It was now six to three-which would be manageable, if Cobb wasn't shot with a dart as soon as he dropped down to check on his wife.
Eames surged forward to try and save the two members of their team, but Arthur caught his arm and tugged him fiercely out the door. They ran for their lives, the case bumping along on Arthur's back.
---
October 15th
Somehow, we made it out alive tonight, Thirteen and I.
Six--
I can't even begin to tell how much strength it took to drag Thirteen out of that facility, when all I wanted to do, all every inch of me screamed to do, was to go back and reclaim Six and Eight. But I couldn't loose Thirteen either, we've been together the longest through all of this. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him, much to my chagrin.
I'm so tired, so numb, I can hardly compose myself. The loss of the two members is overwhelming. For the past few years we've lived together as a family, if one can call it that.
We met up with Ten at our hideout deep in the Underground, and gave him four of the vials, enough for him to Synthesize more of the enhancement drug.
Thirteen and I plan to inject ourselves with it in the morning. I'm apprehensive about the whole affair, but if we're going to overcome Annex, we need to level the playing field.
All over the world tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and many more after that, the Rebellion will take hold in Psychics' veins and hearts, as the enhancement drug is distributed.
But until then, Thirteen is calling me to bed.
It's been a grueling day, and for once, I do believe I'll humor him.
Fandom: Inception AU
Pairings or Characters: Eventual Eames/Arthur, Dominic Cobb/Mallorie Cobb, Yusuf, Nash
Genre: Suspense/Mystery/Superpower AU
Word Count: 1770
Warning: Character Death.
Summary:
"You want to open the package, more than anything. We understand. We felt that longing once too. But before you do, we implore you to read these pages first."
Set in an AU world. Humans with inhuman powers known as Psychics are constantly pursued by Suits, members of a dark, government branch simply known as Annex. A normal college girl discovers a mysterious package, and is drawn into something much, much bigger than she could have ever dreamed of.
A/N: Here's Chapter 2! Not really sure where I'm taking this, but onward with the story.
Previous Chapters:
( Memoirs of the Hunted: A Package, A Foreword, and a Girl (1/?) )
---
We've always been around, walking among you, going about our own lives. I used to have a job, as an office assistant, if you can believe that. We appear normal at first-we're your friends, your parents, your children, your fellow human beings.
Yet, because of one little genetic anomaly, we're treated in a vastly different manner.
We are Psychics.
There are many different types of Psychics, often broken up into groups. You have your Elementals (Pyros, Fluids, Zephyrs, Rocks), Brains (Extractors, Charmers, Telepaths), Shaders (Forgers, Glamours, Blotters), Creators (Architects, Synthesizers)--I could go on and on, really. Some are more valuable than others, but all are highly sought by Annex.
Years ago, in the midst of World War II, we began to emerge from the woodwork, brought out by Hitler's promise of a better life for the genetic 'mistakes', and Truman's promise of total safety.
Both sides were lying through their teeth.
Germany, with the help of numerous 'scientists' and 'doctors' ran and funded years of invasive, tortuous research on the beings that came to be known as Psychics.
Here's the kicker: America did the same.
The only difference between the two is that America managed to mostly bury its dark past of experiments and torture, while Germany didn't.
Over the years, Psychics were loved and feared, hated and revered. Some went on to be weapons, more powerful than any nuclear bomb. But we all have one fatal flaw, in every government's eyes. We're free-willed, and for the most part, extremely headstrong. Many of us didn't take kindly to the experiments being done on our brethren, so we rebelled.
The rebellion was squashed, almost instantaneously. We weren't strong enough, and there were too few of us to really rise up. This was in my parent's time, in the sixties and seventies. The war went on and on, until our numbers dwindled and we were forced to move to the Underground.
A phenomenon started taking place around the time I was born, in the late eighties. We call it the Purge. Every other government calls it the 'Age of Advancement'. Psychics were taken into custody (kidnapped would be a more appropriate term), children stolen away from their parents in the dead of night, people taken from their homes in broad daylight, hauled away in sleek, dark cars by men from the government. The First Wave were the least fortunate, and nearly every single one died from the treatment they underwent, the various diagnostic tests and drugs injected into their bodies sucking the life out of them until there was nothing left.
The Second Wave was slightly more 'successful'--but rather than lacking free will, they lacked self control. They became Brutes, virtually uncontrollable, destructive creatures locked within a human shell. Several escaped, and now the Brutes run rampant, a danger to everyone. There's a bounty placed on their heads-not as high as a normal Psychic, but high enough to make people seriously consider quitting their day jobs to become Hunters.
The Third Wave...well, they were the successful bunch, now known as the Suits. They think, feel and reason much like a human does, but they've been so brainwashed and drugged that they can only do what the government tells them to. Modern-day Psychics that fall into the wrong hands are often shuffled into the Suits program after rigorous conditioning. Some of the more intelligent Suits are allowed to keep their free will, the higher-ups if you will. They're given a drug to heighten their powers to the max, one that is very controlled, and virtually impossible to find, lest it fall into the hands of the Rebellion.
And that, reader, is where this tale begins.
---
October 15th
Honestly, I can't fathom what Annex was thinking (the actual branch that deals with the drug and Psychs is some ridiculously long, pompous name, so we tend to refer to the bastards as 'Annex'). Getting it was supposed to be child's play (well, almost, but we'll get to that in a bit). The only 'guards' were a few low-level Blotters, accompanied by a Charmer.
The former were no problem, but the Charmer proved to be a tad difficult. He was no match for Seven, who broke his mind with swift precision.
Did I mention Seven still scares the piss out of me, even after all these years?
Right then. Well, the drug was supposedly made in a low-level, low-security sky scraper, with a series of Underground labs. Annex took the term 'hiding in plain sight' a little too literally.
Unfortunately Nash, the wanker, was feeding us all the wrong information.
Yes, you heard me right, we had a squealer on our hands. He had double crossed all of us, was actually a Suit, you get the idea. We were led straight into a bloody trap tonight. I've got no qualms about writing his real name here rather than his code one. In fact, in case you didn't catch it the first time, here it is again: DREW NASH. He was a Sleuth, and a terrible one at that. Good riddance, I say.
So anyway, we entered the building after disposing of the guards...
---
The team moved quickly, each one slipping off into a different direction as soon as they entered the lab. Nash, curiously, was shaking and sweating profusely, his eyes shifting between the two doors as he looked. The others marked it off simply as fear-he, after all, was the one who led him here. He stood to loose the most if he was caught. Arthur, a lean man with a two hand-guns, moved to guard one entrance, while Eames, who was more burly and carried a gun to match, went to the other.
A tall, slim woman moved immediately towards a case, a sketchbook in hand. A detailed drawing, almost a snapshot of the very area, showed as she held it up. The shelves of vials in the sketch matched the ones in the metal case exactly. “Yusuf, 'ere it is.” she voiced confidently, her French accent strong as ever.
The others all turned as Yusuf scurried over to examine the case, ramming glasses on his nose as he did so. He was a shorter, pudgy man, with curls, dark skin, and a trimmed beard. The contrast between him and Mal would be laughable, if the situation weren't so serious. He stooped low, stubby fingers feeling along every seam, prying at every crack. He tugged in a few spots, before glancing helplessly at the eager faces. “I can't open it. If I can't get the vial, in my hands, then I can't replicate it.”
Another member moved forward this time, his actions swift, clear purpose behind each one. “That's why you have me. Mal, you've done wonderfully.” Dominic Cobb said, placing a quick kiss on his wife's cheek. The man knelt in front of the vials, an instant look of concentration taking over his face.
They were all under a lot of pressure on this job. Normally, on missions like this they could at least train and prepare themselves, but nothing could prepare them for this.
Sweat beading on his forehead, Dom placed both hands on the smooth metal, lips pursed as they glowed with a faint light. Slowly, the metal dissolved under his hands, replaced by a rippling, clear circle. Reaching in, he carefully pulled a tray of the vials out, seven in total. As soon as he lost contact with the metal it reappeared, as though nothing had happened.
Mal was smiling, as Cobb loaded a padded case carefully with each vial. “And zat, my friends was a parfait Extraction.” the woman announced proudly.
The man straightened up to pull more vials out, when both doors slammed open. Snapping the case shut, he shoved it in his backpack, his movements lightning quick.
The chaos that followed was one that seemed to follow Suits everywhere. Cobb drew both guns and shouted above the din for everyone to get out, before he tossed his bag to Arthur and opened fire.
Three units of Suits invaded the area, nine members total. Yusuf took the team leader's orders and immediately fled out the back, never having been much use in a fight. Nash was trying to edge out but Eames had his gun on the man in an instant-the figure went still but dropped like a fly, Arthur firing the fatal shot. The two men exchanged glances, a grim, unspoken agreement passing between them, quicker than Arthur's bullet had gone through Nash's head.
They had been betrayed.
Mal threw up a force field to deflect the first onslaught of tranquilizing darts, but wasn't swift enough. One caught her in the shoulder and instantly, any chance of defense that they had was gone. Two Suits went down by Eames' hand, a third by Arthur's. It was now six to three-which would be manageable, if Cobb wasn't shot with a dart as soon as he dropped down to check on his wife.
Eames surged forward to try and save the two members of their team, but Arthur caught his arm and tugged him fiercely out the door. They ran for their lives, the case bumping along on Arthur's back.
---
October 15th
Somehow, we made it out alive tonight, Thirteen and I.
Six--
I can't even begin to tell how much strength it took to drag Thirteen out of that facility, when all I wanted to do, all every inch of me screamed to do, was to go back and reclaim Six and Eight. But I couldn't loose Thirteen either, we've been together the longest through all of this. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him, much to my chagrin.
I'm so tired, so numb, I can hardly compose myself. The loss of the two members is overwhelming. For the past few years we've lived together as a family, if one can call it that.
We met up with Ten at our hideout deep in the Underground, and gave him four of the vials, enough for him to Synthesize more of the enhancement drug.
Thirteen and I plan to inject ourselves with it in the morning. I'm apprehensive about the whole affair, but if we're going to overcome Annex, we need to level the playing field.
All over the world tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and many more after that, the Rebellion will take hold in Psychics' veins and hearts, as the enhancement drug is distributed.
But until then, Thirteen is calling me to bed.
It's been a grueling day, and for once, I do believe I'll humor him.