This is a stand-alone fanfiction set after the events of my previous story, 'Wreaking Havoc'. It won't have as many chapters.
Enjoy!
Prologue
It was rude, but people couldn't help but stare. A mother pushing a pram quickened her pace to put space between the boy and herself, feeling sorry but understandably wary: the young man had a vampire-like pale complexion, whitening all the more alarmingly in contrast with his black hair. He had unequal eyes, one startlingly blue and the other a slightly milder hazel, dark shadows smudging the skin beneath them. His eyes seemed too large for his face, which looked pinched with his cheekbones jutting out.
The most unnerving thing about this boy, however, was not his appearance: it was something else, as if there was a perpetual cloud about him; a cold, dark aura.
Slouching a little, his suit crumpled from the flight, Artemis Fowl the Second rubbed his face wearily. He remembered in a vague sort of way that he should straighten his shoulders, otherwise he would look like a drunken gnome who had too much slug ale-
Artemis hit his head with his fist, causing more people to disperse from the immediate vicinity.
"You're a genius, damnit," he muttered to himself, only distantly aware that he was looking like a complete madman. He jerked his gold-plated suitcase along behind him, possibly thankfully ignorant to the stares he was receiving. "Forgetting these...these things are...are...elemen..." He trailed off, stopping in his tracks. Staring at the crouched figure in the checkout line, sifting through her bag, Artemis found he was failing to breathe. The closely cropped auburn hair, the small hands...
But then the person got up, and Artemis felt a great surge of disappointment rush through him. The woman was easily over a metre sixty, and when she glanced over her shoulder Artemis was treated to the face of a complete stranger.
Well, what did you expect? He thought bitterly. Holly would have no reason to be here.
Artemis skulked out of the airport, the hot Australian air stifling him. He shied from the sun, his uncanny resemblance to a vampire hilariously proven further.
A cold drink. An air-conditioned room, he thought, sweat already forming on his forehead. And then, blast this suit.
He wondered whether it was Butler's idea of a sick joke to send him on holiday to what had to be the glaringly sunniest place on the globe. Did the man want him to get ill?
Artemis looked at his hands, which rivalled those of a skeleton. All right, so maybe he needed a holiday. But being in his room back in Ireland thinking endlessly over how his life had turned over so quickly could hardly be any different to being in an air-conditioned hotel room in Australia thinking the exact same thing. Except now he had jet lag as well.
Artemis wondered if he had put on too much sunscreen. He knew his face was pale-white - after retreating into solitude two years after events involving an insane, exiled sprite, his separation from Holly and now the loss of Butler, he had lost any tan he managed to get - but he wondered if it was possible to get whiter than white. Surely you couldn't, much like you couldn't get blacker than black.
People can call it what they like, he thought as he stared into the bathroom mirror, but cream, eggshell and ivory are all white. He remembered that he himself had admonished his mother for not knowing the difference once, and felt like a hypocrite.
Artemis decided that it turned out he didn't have enough sunscreen on, washed his hands and left.
The boy - now a young man - was standing in Hyde Park in Sydney, Australia, feeling completely vulnerable without his bodyguard and at an utter loss as to what he should do now. He spotted a group of young men in the distance.
Socialise?
Artemis shuddered.
"What a complete waste of time," he said, to no one in particular.
After a few minutes, Artemis felt a pair of eyes drilling into him. Looking down, he started as a little girl stared up at him, wide-eyed. She held a plastic yellow Frisbee in one hand.
"Mister, Tommy says you look scary," she said. She paused, glancing over her shoulder. "He's crying now."
Understandably, Artemis felt a little offended, but also amused. He hadn't felt amused in months.
"Do you find me scary?" he asked. The little girl stuck her chin out defiantly.
"No," she said. "I'm not Tommy." She stared at him for a few seconds more before a huge grin split her face and she ran off squealing, dropping her Frisbee on the ground. She disappeared behind a large tree about twenty metres away, and soon two small faces were poking out from its side, watching him.
Artemis grinned, the action uncomfortable after frowning for so long. He feinted forwards, the two children screaming with glee as they vanished behind the tree once more. Artemis waited for them to reappear and began to walk towards them, causing them to abandon the tree and run off, shouting with laughter. Artemis took a few more steps before nearly tripping over something. The girl's Frisbee.
Artemis picked it up, hurrying after the children.
"Hey! Wait!" He shouted, waving the toy over his head. "You - forgot - this!"
He was already running out of breath. This was unbelievable.
The children were out of sight.
By the time he reached a thick mass of parents and toddlers feeding ducks by a pond, the two children were out of sight. Artemis slowed down, looking blankly at the small Frisbee in his hand. What should he do now? Return it to where it had been dropped? Throw it in the bin? Take it back to Ireland with him as a sad sort of souvenir?
In the end, Artemis was spared having to make any such decision by spotting two children in the distance, running towards the city. One with dark hair, the other with fair hair. It could only be them.
Artemis began to run again –well, more a swift sort of jog –and he reached the heart of the bustling city in time to see the youngsters darting round a corner.
Youngsters, he thought.
D'arvit, I'm getting old. And then he hit his head for swearing in the taboo language.
The traffic lights seemed to take forever to change but, scientifically speaking, that was all in one's head –especially when in a rush.
And why don't you just shut up, Artemis thought, trying to be wilfully oblivious to the fact that people were looking at him strangely. So what if he was wearing an Armani suit? He was eighteen now, damnit; and also, he could put on as much sunscreen as he wanted.
You're talking to yourself, replied his brain. There's a myth that talking to oneself is the first sign of madness, but that's preposterous. Everyone talks to themselves at one point or another, and –
I can't believe I use that word. Preposterous.
And then another voice entered his mind.
You...understand, Artemis?
Artemis closed his eyes, willing himself to block out the voice. But it was persistent.
It's for the best.
Thankfully –or not, depending on whether you were an optimist or a pessimist –a sharp pain to the back of his knees caused him to buckle forwards and catch himself just in time, Holly's voice vanishing as quickly as it had come. Jolted back to reality, Artemis stumbled along the crossing, the careless mother with her savage pram already trotting blithely ahead.
Artemis was certain by now that he had lost the children when he heard shrill laughter coming from around the back of a bookstore. He ran towards the sound, but after about a minute of traversing behind the dark behinds of the city shops he had to accept that he had lost them.
I should probably get out of here, he thought. I already look most suspicious. But he kept walking.
If he was to be honest, Artemis welcomed the litter-covered, alley-like place. It shaded him from the relentless sun, and even if it smelled a bit, it was peaceful.
Artemis stopped. The smell had changed; subtly, yes, but there was definitely another underlying scent.
Urine. There was the smell of urine. Usually, this wouldn't be such a big deal - in fact, some people could say that it would be a big deal if there wasn't - but this was unusual.
Artemis lifted his head and inhaled deeply. Ammonia, definitely ammonia, and acetone. His heart sped up. It couldn't be. Could it?
The boy turned slowly on the spot, trying to pinpoint the exact location. He was soon facing the building he was standing behind, his nose nearly touching the wood.
"All right," he muttered. "I see. Not too clever, but not too stupid either."
Artemis ran his hand across the wall until he felt a slight ridge. Smiling mirthlessly, he pulled it. The hidden door swung open, and soon Artemis found himself staring into a cramped room, a fake wall separating it from the actual shop. Test tubes and beakers were full of chemicals, bubbling above bunsen burners.
A clandestine lab.
Artemis realised that he should probably leave. If the chemicals were being heated, the person making the drugs would be returning anytime soon.
Artemis began to back out, dialling the police number.
"Good afternoon," he said. "There is a clandestine lab in the city where Hyde Park is, in a faded cerulean-painted building..." He deduced what he knew rapidly, looking about hidden room. "A pharmacy, I would expect, and there is a fake wall separating the lab from the real store. The lab can be accessed via a hidden back door, and-"
The phone was torn out of Artemis's hand and thrown to the ground with a loud crunch. He lurched forwards, the gang member's fingers scraping the back of his jacket. Artemis managed to get behind a long table full of bottles and test tubes, his back to the fake wall.
The gang member snorted, standing at the entrance. His head had been completely shaved, the shiny dome thickly tattooed - much like his burly arms.
"You think you can hide back there?" the man said. From his accent, Artemis could only assume he was from South America. "Stupid boy." His arm flexed, and a tattoo - a word, inked into the skin - stood out: Cobra.
Artemis had never been called stupid in his life. It was a strangely eye-opening experience.
"Pardon me," he said, "But there's no need to be rude."
He was astounded at how calm he sounded. Inwardly, he was screaming his lungs out. His fascination at seeing a real gang member was severely out of proportion to his fear and rationality...not to mention the absence of Butler, which was most uncomfortably profound at the moment.
Bald Guy ignored this. He stepped into the lab, his boots clicking on the cracked tiles. Three more gang members came into view.
Artemis's fingers were scrabbling against the wall behind him, his eyes flitting across the contents of the table in front of him. His hand hit a large bump, and with relief he grasped the handle.
Bald Guy did not miss this. He lunged forwards, reaching the table just as Artemis flung open the door to the shop. The boy threw the Frisbee at a beaker containing oxidiser, leaping into what was indeed a pharmacy, safely out of the way by the time the oxidiser spilled into a plastic container.
The chemicals reacted violently, smoke billowing out of the container in thick plumes. Artemis managed to close the door behind him before there was a small-scale explosion, making the whole building shudder on its foundations.
Artemis was thrown through the pharmacy as the door flew off its hinges. The customers began screaming, running for the exit, jabbering about terrorists.
Out of the haze, a figure began limping towards him. A bald, livid figure.
Artemis got up and began to run.
They are going to kill me now. I have to learn to protect myself, and protect others. I want to be more than a legitimate person.
