Artemis massaged his eyes. It was getting late, the boys were probably already asleep. Hopefully Butler as well, but Artemis doubted it. The glare of his computer screen in the dark was sort of painful, but he had to get this done. The programming wasn't the hard part, it was focusing on what he was doing. Never before in his life, had Artemis Fowl II ever had trouble with focusing. It was what he did best, some might even say.
However, things were different now. He was twenty-eight. Myles and Beckett were nearing their second-to-last year of high school. His younger brother, Myles, had chosen to not skip any grades. An uncharacteristically generous move on his part. Myles had said he felt it would be wrong to put that gap between himself and his twin brother, Beckett. It was so hard to believe they were sixteen.
Then there was the company. Ever since Mother and Father.…Artemis winced as a memory surfaced unbidden. The explosion in Luthor's building…Butler screaming for Artemis to listen to him. Juliet carrying Myles and Beckett, then only seven years old, to safety. But Mother and Father, they had been in a different part of the building.
A cold hard stone sat in Artemis' gut. A sensation he was long used to. Artemis dropped his head into his hands, his elbows resting on his desk top. He had been running the business since. He'd been nineteen. More than capable, and he had Juliet and Butler to help with the boys. But, he'd been forced to take charge in so many areas, he barely slept at all these days.
He stayed out of trouble, for the most part. No crime sprees in the last nine years. He liked to believe that it was to honor his Father's wishes for the Fowl family to stay on the straight and narrow. Truth be told, he didn't feel like it anymore. If it weren't for his brothers, Butler, Foaly…Holly…Who knows where he'd be? Instead, he expanded Fowl Industries. They had branches in Medicine, Machinery, Weaponry, Advanced Robotics, and Children's Novelties, to name a few. That last area was mainly Myles and Beckett's doing. When they weren't at school, terrorizing a near-by ice cream store, or sleeping, they were in Myles' lab, working on a new toy/death machine. Becketts and Becketts of Myles' Monstrosities (BBMM), was a very popular toy brand name. At least with the children. The parents were another story.
Artemis was torn between being miffed and proud at how much capital Myles and Beckett's part of the company was bringing in annually. It was amazing, really.
At least they were staying out of trouble.
At the moment, Artemis was working on a weapon to promote Non-Lethal Warfare. It was pretty self-explanatory. The purpose of his 'weapon' was to render large numbers of people unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, but not critically harmed. He, for once, was not simply upgrading fairy tech. He was determined to do it the right way. Not going into detail, but it involved a satellite with artificial intelligence and several airborne (invisible) drones that would dispense the neutralizing agent. He was using the fairy's basic idea for invisibility—vibrating at horribly near-impossible speeds—but he was not using magic. That was the trick.
If his invention was readily accepted by a certain American philanthropist, billionaire and businessman who also had a strong hand in the world of weaponry (cough cough, "Bruce Wayne", wink cough) then it may mean a partnership that would lead to other opportunities.
And then it was only a matter of time before Artemis would simply buy out Wayne Industries.
A crash and a bang followed by his youngest brother's familiar voice ranting and raving about his other brother's stupidity brought Artemis back down to earth. "Myles?" he called. "Beckett? What's going on? You two should have been asleep hours ago." Artemis pulled out his phone and glanced at it. Good God, was it really that late? He looked down at himself. If only his ten-year-old self could see him now. In desperate need of a shave and haircut, his raven hair ruffled and sticking out all over his head. His clothes wrinkled and rumpled and... where did that coffee stain come from? Artemis sighed and closed his laptop. Perhaps it was time for him to clean up and head off to bed as well. When had he let himself get so lazy?
He rose from his chair, spots dancing briefly in his eyes. He rubbed them away then stretched his arms out, feeling and hearing his joints "snap, crackle, pop" as Juliet would say. Striding to his office door, he opened it and peered out. "Boys?"
"Yes, we are," came Myles' impatient, imperious, impertinent, impudent and cynical voice from somewhere to his left. Artemis turned his head to see the the twins carrying strange looking cylinders. Well, to be more precise, Beckett was carrying everything. Myles was standing beside his brother with a scowl. "Be careful, you simpleton."
Perhaps the lack of sleep had caused his breathing to become restrained, resulting in a lack of oxygen supply for his brain, but Artemis Fowl couldn't help but smile. "Myles, don't call your brother a simple-toon."
Myles turned his scowl on Artemis for a moment, before allowing a small grin himself. "It's okay, Arty," he assured his oldest brother. "He likes it. Don't you, simple-toon?" Beckett giggled under his load.
"What are you two still doing up?" Artemis asked them. "It's almost two in the morning. And what is that you're carrying, Beckett?" Beckett tried to shrug, but ended up dropping one of the cylinders. Myles gasped in horror. He snatched it up just after it clattered on the floorboards. After a quick look-over, he sighed in relief and tossed it carelessly back onto the pile in Beckett's arms.
"A chemical compound I call—" Myles began.
"Unicorn Poo," Beckett finished. Myles frowned at his twin, then rolled his eyes.
"Fine," snapped Myles. Then he took in a deep breath and forced a large, phony smile onto his face. When he spoke it was in an overly perky tone. "This is Unicorn Poo! We're going to use it to make things SHINY!"
"No," argued Beckett. "Sparkly." Myles pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Just hurry, please," said Artemis. "I admire your dedication to this business, but you two are still growing, so please get to bed."
"You're still growing, too," pointed out Myles stubbornly. But he turned and walked off in the direction of his lab with Beckett following meekly. Artemis caught a glimpse of himself in a hallway mirror, but quickly turned away. It was true, he still looked much as he did when he sixteen.
"When I died," whispered a quiet voice in the back of his brain.
"Shut up," said Artemis audibly. He was doing that more and more lately. He blamed it on the large supply of coffee he was intaking daily. And he blamed that on Juliet. She was the one who had gotten him started on it. Artemis closed the door to his office behind him and started for his bedroom. He assumed that it was because his new body was fairy-made, he didn't age normally. It had been over a decade since then, but his new body had aged maybe a year in human terms since then. His slightly unkempt appearance helped him to seem older, but he'd decided several years ago that a beard didn't suit him. He was more content to just let people think he was well preserved. Even if he and his brothers were sometimes mistaken for triplets. He'd get a haircut later. Or maybe he'd just ask Butler to do it.
Somewhere in Scotland.
Robin paced the floor of the demolished warehouse. A warehouse robbery. It was so cliché he wanted to scream. But WHY? WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY…
WHY would RED X raid this ware house? Who was he and more importantly…
Why one earth would he steal three thousand Teddy Bears? Forget wanting to scream, Robin wanted to bash his brains out against a nice sturdy brick wall. Raven was hovering overhead, getting a bird's-eye-view of the wreckage. Red X had completely destroyed the northeast wall, blown up a large piece of factory machinery and started an electrical fire that Cyborg and Beast Boy had only just managed to put out. Starfire was holding a teddy bear that had lost an arm, she was looking at it curiously.
Robin continued pacing. He'd already looked the place over. No evidence, unless you counted the fact that the stolen goods were stuffed bears. This more than anything convinced him that Red X was not Jason Todd. Jason wouldn't waste his time with toys if he had this much "fire power".
"Maybe we should ask your Dad for help," Beast Boy broke into his thoughts. Robin wheeled around, panic rising.
"No," he said firmly, almost desperately. He couldn't ask Bruce for help in this case. It was admitting defeat. Plus, Bruce didn't know that he'd lost the costume…yet…Robin had always planned to let Bruce know what had happened with it…but after he'd caught the culprit. He couldn't let his mentor know that Robin was struggling on his own. It had been hard enough getting Bruce to think of him as his own hero, not as Batman's sidekick. Something like this might transport him straight back to square one with the Dark Knight.
"Listen" said Cyborg. "I get it. You want to look good for your Dad," Robin growled. His teammates just didn't seem to get that Bruce wasn't really his father. "But this guy is obviously insane." Cyborg took the teddy bear from Star, dangling it by a singed leg. An eye-button chose that moment to pop off. "We should get help now, before Red X starts doing this to people."
"Perhaps Red X is only using the suit's abilities to gather together a large collection of children's toys and other oddities for his enjoyment?" Suggested Starfire.
"No one over age five enjoys stuffed animals." Raven droned. Beast Boy blushed and looked away, rubbing his head bashfully. If Robin wasn't so upset, he might have smirked. Beast Boy had a whole mountain of stuffed animals in his room.
"That's one big five-year-old," muttered Cyborg, tossing the bear back to Star. "We should head back home," he told Robin. "There's nothing here." Robin sighed. They'd been tracking Red X for the past three months. What had they found out since then? That Red X liked stupid things like worthless common gemstones, like amethyst and peridot, bubble wrap (seriously, he robbed a packaging plant for three hundred thousand dollars' worth of bubble wrap), helium (from a balloon company) and now teddy bears. Every now and then he'd steal gold bullion from high security areas, or pull pranks like sticking a kitten-video into every computer in NASA and the Justice League computers and making it act like a virus, that is, spreading to every aspect, every file in their computers. Every time they tried to open their classified files on the computer, or even watch a camera feed, it would play. Batman was still trying to figure out how he did it. Well, actually, Robin had no evidence that that particular act of villainy was Red X, but he just KNEW that it was him. There was one time that he stole brand new pipes. Just pipes, like sewer pipes that were on their way to a city to be installed in replacement of old ones. He'd just knocked out the driver and stolen the pipes, carried them off to God knows where.
Also, he never killed anybody. Not even on accident.
The crimes just weren't adding up.
Robin nodded to Cyborg and they headed back off towards the jet. Robin stared out the window as Cyborg got them into their air, his mind consumed with something like hatred, but closer to annoyance. Red X's voice was what got to him the most. Young, almost certainly his age or maybe even a bit younger, placing the criminal at somewhere around fifteen or so. It was mocking, but undeniably intelligent. Robin couldn't decide if it was childishly immature with it's teasing and sarcastic nature, or too impossibly mature. So stiff and formal, sometimes even polite.
"Speaking of Batman," Cyborg started conversationally, breaking into his thoughts. "What you gonna do?" Robin stayed silent.
That morning, Alfred had contacted him. "Master Wayne" supposedly missed him. The old butler was requesting that he came home for a while. A vacation, was how he'd put it. When Robin wasn't lying to himself, he missed the Manor. Not having to make his own bed or life and death decisions every day. Actually going to school instead of doing online classes at night when his teammates were asleep. Getting to watch TV or hang out with his old friends in the afternoons. On the other hand…
"No," Robin decided. "Not with Red X on the loose."
"Dude," said Beast Boy. "You're obsessed. Besides," he leaned back in his seat and shot Robin a cheeky grin. "The old guy said we all could come, we just have to be in disguise."
"Why would you even want to?" Robin asked. "You're always complaining about me being 'grumpy' and 'tense' and 'no fun'. Where do you think I learned my leadership skills?"
"Batman wouldn't bother with us," said Beast Boy, gesturing to himself and the other Titans besides Robin. "He'd be too busy catching up with you and the baddies of Gotham. I wanna live in a mansion, with servants and room service…"
"Servant," corrected Robin. Cyborg hummed in mock disappointment from the pilot's chair. "As in one. And I don't think Alfred will want to wait on you hand-and-foot all the time. He's got his hands full just cleaning up after Batman…and sewing him back together and stuff."
"He doesn't do it the way you do, does he?" asked Cyborg. "Just acting as though he hemming his cape as he pulling the thread through his arm. Without anesthetics or anything. Because it's gross."
Robin chose not to answer that.
"This from the one who takes off his own body parts to clean them in the living room," Raven pointed out bluntly.
"They're removable!" protested Cyborg.