Missing Pages

Chapter 1: Prologue

Lucius Hawke. Businessman, overlord, informant, idealist, dealer. He just becomes what he wanted to be, when he wanted to be. Tonight, he had chosen to be an informant, and maybe something else. He stood on the top of a building, in a leather trench coat and a cylindrical cap. Both grey, like the colour of the sky that night. The breeze of Moscow was strong, as it always had been. He exhaled, mist coming out from his mouth. Soon, he heard blades spinning; he did not have to turn around to know that it was a helicopter, hovering overhead. It landed on the rooftop, and then the blades slowed down. The door opened, and out came a man in a business suit.

"Took your time coming here. Is it true that your intention was to have me freeze to death, and then you would arrive and steal any information on me? If it is true, then you have missed a couple of points. The first is; I have not frozen to death yet, and the second; I have no physical information for you to get from me." Lucius spoke in a deep voice, cutting through the cold of the night.

"I thought that a professional would be doing the work, but they sent a kid? Does your employer wish to trifle with me?" He said, irritated, ignoring the boy's question.

"It seems like you have got two things wrong, the first is, my employer does not wish to trifle with you, and the second, following up my first reason, is that I have no employer."

"Cut the crap. Now give me what you have."

"Of course. The investigation had opened my eyes in so many ways as well, so I would like to thank you that you had provided me the opportunity to do it. Anyways, I would like to tell you that I lied about having no physical information. It was leverage. Now, this is what I found." Lucius continued, taking out a folder and handed it over to the businessman then stepped back.

The man took the folder from Lucius, then breath onto his own hand for warmth. He opened it, then he looked upwards at Lucius in surprise, then in horror, as he noticed that the boy was smirking, and for a fraction of a second, his dark brown eyes seemed to glow crimson. The boy looked to the other side as the Russian felt a sharp pain to his chest, before dropping to the ground, he opened his mouth to say something, but only blood came through. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Lucius was never used to death, even if the killer was a quarter-mile away on another rooftop. He avoided looking at the businessman, fearing that he would lose sleep over it. He turned his head back to look at the chopper. This was the big hole in his plan. The gamble was if the pilot would come out for revenge, or run off. Fortunately, the pilot didn't have much love for his employer and started the engine of the helicopter, veering away as fast as he could. The gamble paid off. Another gamble, however, was still waiting for the results.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He took it out, and heard a synthesized voice.

"Good work, Mister Lucius. Expect your payment in the hour." Said the synthesized voice. "I hope that you are not expecting more payment."

"Of course not, gentlemen." Lucius said, masking his anxiety. "I have earned a lot more than money today."

The second gamble paid off, he was not backstabbed.

[02:00AM a hotel in Moscow, Lucius' room, the next day]

He opened the door to find a hotel room. One bedroom, one dining room with built-in kitchen, and a bathroom. The room was on the second floor, the dining room's window overlooking the main entrance. His bedroom window on the side of the hotel was hooked up with rappelling gear, the rappelling belt under his bed, in case he had to make a quick escape if there would be repercussions due to last night's actions. He had bribed the admin desk to call him and tell him if someone had been snooping around asking about him. He instructed the admin to answer honestly, because the people gunning for him would bribe the admin more than he did, and then the warning cal would never come.

He always had the "Do not disturb" sign on the door, so that he would be sure that the person entering the room would not be the maid or room service, which he would never order if there was possible risk to his life. His 9x88 Makarov PMM semi-automatic pistol he borrowed from his source- his father's source tucked into the top drawer of his bedside table. He had done many things in Russia, and each time, he would have someone lend him a self-defense sidearm. This was easy to conceal and would not be rare to find. He had grown accustomed to it now, and he even considered getting one himself, but not until he's at the age to get a legal one. Right now, he had to borrow it off a black market dealer (at a price, of course). The hotel was a rather remote one, with few people entering and leaving, so he had set up a camera at the dining room table and he would review the tapes for familiar faces each morning. It was hooked onto his laptop, which would cross-reference anyone that fits the bill of a shady figure that might be coming for him.

He walked to the hotel safe, not the most secure in the world, but it would have to do, judging from the circumstances. Overseas, he had to find resources of his own, not like in the United Kingdom, where he would get money off his account without suspicion. Couple that with his father's former resources, it would make a decent resource pool, not the best, but decent enough. He pressed a four digit code, and the safe clicked. He checked for traps, then opened it halfway through, then checked for traps inside. One could never be too careful. He pulled a folder out. The folder was not indexed, keyed, or indicated by any means. He pulled out copies of pages from a book. A book from Artemis Fowl, a person in the family the Russian told him to investigate. The letters was nothing like he had ever seen, but again, it was probably an encryption. He put the papers out in order onto his table in his bedroom.

"Well, looks like it will take some time deciphering this…" he said to himself.

He sat there for two hours straight, studying the first page. He was unable to crack it. The encryption was near-perfect, even better than anything he had seen. Fowl must undoubtedly be a genius if he had written the encryption, or if not, solved it. He was not used to on-paper decryption like the old days. Most of the time, he only had to work with his laptop and crack a digital encryption, but this time, he had to do it all on paper, since he could not find a match on computer. He decided to take a break, but as soon as he sat back, the phone rang. He walked over to it and picked it up.

"Mr. Bill, some people came and asked for your location. I told them. They are on their way up." The admin said.

"Thank you. I will have to go now." Lucius replied, trying to sound as calm as possible, not waiting for an answer.

He moved swiftly to the camera, turned it off, then ejected the memory stick, replacing it with a random tourist's, pulled it off the tripod, and placed it on the floor. He did the same for the tripod. He then grabbed his backpack, and put his laptop and passport and other essentials inside. He scurried over to the desk, gathered up the book pages, and then put them in a folder. There was no time to put it in order, and he had numbered it anyways. He could sort it out later, when he has the time. He slid the folder into the backpack. He walked into his bedroom, grabbed out his Makarov PMM from the drawer; put it in his coat, pulled out the rappelling belt from under the bed, and then put it on. He opened the window and threw the rappelling rope down, before securing the belt to it. For a person who is not fond of height, rappelling is more of "walking backwards down a wall" rather than "skipping down a wall" for him.

He then put his backpack on, and went over the window, in a rappelling position. Lucius slowly rappelled down the wall. The men would take some time coming to him, because he had chosen the room deepest into the corridor and locked, bolted and blocked the door with a chair placed diagonally. Hopefully, it would be enough. He reached the ground, and then made for his car (borrowed from his father's source). He was unusually tall for his age, and he actually looked older. A fake driving license would save him, as long as he followed the regulations and don't get pulled over. He started the car, then drove away as fast as he could, trying not to make a skidding sound. After a few minutes of driving, he pulled out his cell phone, and dialed his contact. After a few beeps, the call connected.

"Adamska." Lucius said.

"Little Lucie!" His contact said.

"Please, do not call me little Lucie, even if you did call my father 'Lucie'. I am not very fond with that nickname".

"I don't suppose you called me to say hi?"

"That is correct. I need you to book a flight back to the UK."

"When?"

"As soon as possible."

"Alright. That's 6:20."

"Meet me in front of Moscow airport at six. I'll give your gun and car back, and you get me the ticket. The money will reach your account soon after I arrive at Heathrow." Lucius said, well aware that this man does business for money, even with his closest friends.

"Fine then, see ya, little Lucie." Adamska said before cutting off the call.

[06:02AM In front of Moscow airport]

Lucius sat on a bench, on his laptop. He inserted the memory stick into the card reader, and a window appeared on his computer. He scrolled over to 05:19AM, and then saw the two Caucasian men strolling to the front entrance. He paused the video when both their faces were visible, and then cross-referenced it with his father's database. He had inherited a great deal from his father, but his mother was nowhere to be found. Soon, someone came and sat beside him. They exchanged no words, but the man put something on the keyboard of his laptop. A plane ticket. Lucius checked the date, time and flight, then handed his car key and then his gun over to the man, which swiftly put it in his coat. The man stood up, and then began to walk away.

"Thank you, Adamska." Lucius said.

"Don't mention it." Adamska replied, not turning around. "Don't go get yourself killed now." He then continued on walking.

"I will try not to."

Suddenly, the screen beeped. He looked over to it, a match was found. Anthony Lee and Norman Hughes, CIA. The second gamble never paid off. He WAS backstabbed.

"American bastards…" Lucius whispered to himself in frustration. He had to lay low for now, but at least he has found something to do at the time, he though as he peeked into his own backpack to see the folder.

[Heathrow Airport]

Lucius walked to an ATM machine, and then transferred the cash to Adamska. Later that day, he moved into a safe house in Manchester. He spent the rest of the week figuring out the first page, not knowing that its content would change his life forever…

So, how was that? I plan to skip many years when chapter 2 starts. Please review, because I would really like to know if my OC is "Mary Sue" (or Larry Stu, in this case) or not. I have not been able to find "The Lost Colony" yet, so that may be a factor that I will have to compensate with, or I would have to find it before starting the next chapter. I would add more background on the OC later, if you're interested, of course. I know that I listed the category as "Romance", but it would have to come later, since this is the Prologue. Hope you liked it! Or if not, then please say so. You have my word that Artemis, Holly, Butler etc. will appear soon, very soon…

Remember, the life and death of this story depends on YOU and YOUR REVIEWS.