Dislcaimer: I do not own Inception. Reviews are not only accepted and encouraged, but really positive ego bluffers.

The rules were simple.

You do not slack.
You do not trade.
You do not deceive your team members.
If a job becomes too dangerous, you do not abandon your team.
You do not associate with civilians unless absolutely necessary when doing a job.

Those were his rules. Simple. Easy to follow. But life has a way of sending you to places you never thought you'd be and making decisions you never thought you'd make. This is what happened to him over four years ago. Somewhere, beneath and behind that cold mask that was put up to hinder any possible rapports outside of work was let down and he felt himself falling into this hole of imminent light, not noticing that his feet were no longer on the ground.

His decisions and choices since the moment he made the biggest mistake of his life has now been the destruction of him. He was stone, and he was just fine getting on by himself...but somehow, someone managed to carve and engrave in his masonry...and the lines became blurred. Finally, he had something to live for and now he didn't have anything at all.

Right now, he sits in an empty hotel room in the middle of Las Vegas. He checked in partially because he had nowhere to go, but mostly because he wanted to get as far away from home as possible. He couldn't stand being in the same state. Everything was horrible, and everything hurt. When he checked in to this hotel, he sighed with disgust and he remembered how the youthful him - so far in the past - was excited when he checked into his first expensive hotel. The fancy black marble floors and counter tops that seemed so cold to step on but had a meaning of echelon and dire importance...now, they just reminded him of how everything he ever loved had been ripped away from him. The parchment colored walls with the one unique painting in the center of the south wall used to ignite a flame of desire in the once young man's heart. But now, all they did was remind him of the past life that he no longer wanted to be apart of.
He went to mini-bar, got himself a large, expensive bottle of Bourbon and now he sat. On the floor, with his back against the stone cold wall, he occasionally endeavored enough energy to actually lift the bottle to his lips and take a big, long gulp. This left him feeling a little more blundered, which is what he wanted. To forget.