Prologue

Yup, so Ariadne's a tiny Canadian who's super smart and has awesome scarves. Obviously she has some chemistry with Arthur (and, it seems, every other male and/or female in Inception), and likes to draw mazes and help people with their personal issues, but I really feel like there should be more to her. So that's what this is. But I may cave and do some A/A, 'cause that's still very nice. Ahem…

Ariadne slipped easily over the rooftop, lithe as a gymnast. She'd practiced the move a million times, both in dream time, and in real life. A fleeting shadow flipped itself over the edge of the roof, and she hung with one hand from the gutter while the other expertly worked a lock pick expertly into the window's lock. A clicked a second later, and she eased herself into the darkened room.

She had entered through Colden's office, which was locked from the inside. She padded across the expensive carpet in soft black boots. The street lamp outside cast a dull orange beam into the room, which she avoided, keeping to the walls, her tight black clothing blending into the dark walls. One gloved hand turned the door handle, and she emerged into the upstairs hallway. Colden slept at the other end, with his wife, Marie. Their children, Doug, nine, and Kasey, thirteen, were in the two adjacent rooms. Ariadne knew everything about the family. She knew each schedule, she knew their credit card numbers, she knew Doug's and Kasey's grades. She knew the mileage on Colden's car.

Silent as a ghost, Ariadne slipped through the door at the end of the hall, and into Colden's bed room. It was dominated by a queen size bed, headed by an iron, gate-like head board, over which was the severed head of a boar. Looking at it made her stomach squirm, which was odd, she reflected, considering her occupation. Colden was on the right side of the bed. His mouth was open in an unattractive fashion, and as he snored, his giant mustache fluttered gently.

Ariadne removed from an inside pocket of her suit a tiny hypodermic needle and bent over Colden's feet. He'd had surgery on his third toe the previous year, and had no feeling there. Gently, the pried the third and fourth toes apart, pricked the inner skin with the needle, and depressed the syringe until it was empty. The liquid would work its way through his bloodstream within two hours, and by morning he would have died of a heart attack.

As swiftly and silently as she had come, Ariadne moved back down the hall, into the office, out the window, and into the night, having accomplished her mission.

Thanks for reading! Reviews always appersheated. The next chapter will be more detailified and exciting. And the chapter after that will be positively…Pointed. Hints there.

-esking