Hey guys! Wow, more people liked this then I thought. I also learned that I now write best on my school's laptops, so the winter break was no conductive to writing the next chapter.
Yeah, Rocker On, you are going to hate me. I am horrible at updating. I'll get to it eventually, but I'm slow. But thanks for all the positive feedback on this and AFKJ. I promise to try and get the next chapter of that up soon, but it's difficult to describe a lot of walking.
But, hey, enjoy!
"Commander, Foaly, I have Artemis. He's out of it, and the storm sounds like it's dying." Holly spoke into her mic. She laid Artemis limply on the frozen floor and began to rub at the ice encasing Butler's body. A swipe of her hand over his chest revealed a bullet wound ringed with blood, and Holly hissed silently.
"Butler was shot." Her voice hung, struggling to be flat but ultimately failing. Butler had been a good man, and a friend to the People. "That's what set Artemis off." It made sense. Artemis Fowl Sr. had been lost when Artemis was 10, and may not have been around much before that; Angeline Fowl succumbed to mental illness not long after that. For over 2 years Butler would have been the closest thing Artemis had to a parent, the only one to turn to when his powers threatened to break free or when he simply needed an adult presence. Losing him must be unimaginable for the 13 year-old.
Vaguely, Holly wondered if Artemis had gotten the killer; it seemed likely.
The commander sighed over the line. "Alright, slap a Moon Belt and camfoil on him and bring him back to Haven."
"Sir? Are we equipped to handle him?" Holly questioned. She could all too clearly picture the consequences of Artemis's ice being unleashed in Haven.
"More than anyone else on the planet." Root put it simply. "If Fowl has his own room or method to keep his powers at bay, we'll help him get to it then. For now, bring him here. Surely we can rig up heaters and sedatives if it starts to get out of hand."
"Got it, sir." Holly pulled out her camfoil and expertly wrapped Artemis snuggly inside it. And if his feet dangled out a bit, well, she doubted anyone would actually notice for the freak snowstorm plaguing London. Hefting Artemis into her arms, Holly carried him bridal-style towards the exit she had made. As she was about to squeeze her and Artemis through, a thought struck her.
"Commander?"
"Yes, Captain Short?"
"Do you think – do you think we could send someone for Butler? Artemis might be – might appreciate being able to bury him." That, and it felt wrong to leave Butler's body behind, to be left for the Mud Men to uncover or to rot away in the ice.
Foaly hummed. "That's actually not a bad idea. Certainly can't hurt to give Artemis a reason to cooperate."
Root hesitated a second more, then agreed. "I'll send Retrieval One in once the storm clears enough for us to get our equipment through. You just get clear and get back."
"Yes, sir. Signing off." Holly reactivated her wings and slipped out the window in the ice, preparing to battle the fierce storm once more.
The trip back was both harder and easier. Artemis's dead weight, even cut down by the Moon Belt, proved a major hindrance, especially considering it monopolized the use of her hands. She was forced to drop him in the snow a couple times (to vague stirrings and moans of protest) when the wind knocked her already unbalanced form to the ground. Thankfully, though, the storm was winding down ever so slowly, and the journey was a bit less punishing than the first time. Still, Holly breathed a sigh of relief when she finally got far enough away from the heart of the storm to take the air, and felt even more grateful that the wind was now at her back, acting as a propellant rather than a resistance.
Foaly relayed information about the situation in London through the earpiece in her helmet. The humans had began to notice that the storm was dying, and a couple of the braver souls were inching towards the boundary of the ruined sector of the city. News channels all over the world were broadcasting live feeds, reporting estimated fatalities, speculating what could have happened (each theory more unlikely and ridiculous than the last) and calling in experts to do the scientific thinking for them. Out of all the theories, though, none came close to the truth, and for that Holly breathed a sigh of relief.
"Foaly," Holly asked into her helmet, "what about the Fowls? Where are they in all of this?"
The furious tapping of keyboards preceded the appearance of several small images on Holly's visor. "Helsinki University Hospital, physical therapy wing. Angeline's staying in a nearby hotel. When the news broke, Angeline raced to the hospital and hasn't stopped trying to call Artemis's cell or Fowl Manor since." The pictures Foaly showed her were clearly obtained from security cameras that needed to have been updated several years ago. The stills showed Angeline rushing through the doors of the hospital and past the service desk, joining Artemis Sr. in his room, where he was already watching the news with rapt attention, and finally Angeline pacing back and forth frantically as she held a phone to her ear.
Holly sighed. "At least they're out of the way for now. Ireland's a long way to travel from Finland, and I doubt many airlines are still up and running. Artemis will have to come up with some story for them, though."
"Hmm." Foaly hummed in agreement before changing the subject. "Root's sent Retrieval out. ETA to London is about an hour, then another couple hours to get everything in and out."
Holly's heart dropped at the reminder. "Alright." She nodded. "I should hit Stonehenge in another 30 minutes. Shuttle still waiting for me?"
"Yep." A hesitation. "Fly safe."
"Will do. Over and out." Holly returned to the task of flight, mind poking and prodding at the mystery of the young human she carried in her arms.
Artemis woke slowly, his mind a gray fuzz that did not want to let him go. Drugs, he recognized. He had been tranquilized. By who and how was something that he could not determine, the haze settling over his most recent memories, obscuring the details. His chest, limbs, and tongue felt heavy with the last lingering remnants of the drug, and it was all he could do to open his eyes into slits and peer at his surroundings.
He was in a small room that seemed like a mish-mash of a hospital room and a jail cell. The walls were smooth cinderblock and painted a soothing light cream, but lacked any sort of adornment. A niche in the wall held a small sink and hand-sanitizer container. Artemis himself was lying on a clunky, hospital-style bed too small for his frame. His feet were dangling over the edge of the railing and his head, propped up into an almost sitting position, was nearly scrapping the railing at the head. Smooth plastic bands were clamped around his wrists and bond him to the bed. A monitor to his left was beeping out his heart beat, with Gnommish symbols flying by at the bottom in a summary of his condition. A Plexi-glass door lacking any sort of visible locking mechanism closed off the small room from the hallway outside, where poised alertly in a chair was the all-too familiar from of a LEPrecon officer, helmet hiding any hint of features that might have told Artemis who it was.
He had not yet made any obvious movements to indicate that he was awake - his deep breathing and barely opened eyes were enough to fool anyone not strictly paying attention to his every twitch - and this gave Artemis time to wonder what the LEP could possibly want with him. This wondering, in turn, prompted the memory of the C-Cube, the meeting about it with Spiro, and -
Artemis's breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes opened wide. Butler, lying on a broken table and blood pouring from a hole in his chest.
"No." He whispered, his brain unable to comprehend this fact. Butler. How - how could Butler be -
Realizing this, it also dawned on him, with an icy chill down his spine, that it wasn't the sedative causing the heavy feelings in his limbs, but the pure exhaustion that always came with the overexertion of his powers.
"No." He repeated louder, an ugly, empty feeling filling his chest. What had he done? What had he done?
The LEPrecon officer was approaching the door, now aware that he was conscious. A long stretch on time passed as the officer fiddled with security that Artemis could not see from his vantage point. He tried to wiggle himself into a more respectable position, but the combination of his exhaustion and the bands around his wrists made that next to impossible.
The officer entered the room, pulling the door shut behind them, and lifted the vizier on their helmet.
"Captain Short." Artemis addressed, an mixture of weariness and desperation coloring his voice. It was obvious, now, that it was Captain Short. She was the most qualified of the LEP to deal with him, having already done so on two separate occasions. Perhaps that familiarity would gain him answers now.
"Artemis." Holly nodded. The expression on her face was difficult to name; she had never looked at him like that before. It was caution, Artemis decided, warring with curiosity, unease, and the desire to keep her face blank. Troubling to say the least. The panic stirring in his gut increased tenfold, and the lack of ice accumulating around him only worsened it. How much power had he used if none was coming now?
"What has happened?" He asked hesitantly. His mouth was dry, he noted, and his hands shook in their confines.
"What do you remember?" Holly's approach to his bedside was slow and obvious, like she was trying not to spook an animal. She knew, Artemis knew, and he wondered if he should feel offended by the comparison to a wild animal.
"I remember the restaurant." Artemis began. He briefly considered mentioning the C-Cube, but chucked it. There was time for that later; right now, he needed answers. "There was - it was a trap. Butler -" His voice hitched, and tears were welling up behind his eyes. The image of the life fading from Butler's eyes was superimposed in his mind and he had no doubt it would remain there until he died. He knew what he was supposed to say to Holly, but he couldn't get the words out. Butler was - it was - how could he say it?
"What happened?" He choked out instead. "What happened after?" He couldn't remember anything after the gunshot, after learning Butler's name - Domovoi, a Slavic protective sprite, how suitably ironic - and the blank coupled with his lack of power terrified him.
"We know it wasn't your fault." She was beating around the brush, something so unlike Holly that Artemis couldn't help but snap at her.
"What wasn't my fault? Butler? My powers?!" Holly twitched at the mention of his powers, confirming what Artemis was dreading to be true.
"What did I do? Tell me!" He cried. "Please." He added on a second later. "I need to know."
Holly swallowed roughly. In the hours she had spent waiting for Artemis to wake up, she had not managed to figure out a good way to tell him. How you tell someone they released a storm in the middle of London?
She had never seen Artemis this way before. Even during the rescue of his father and in Koboi labs, he had been composed and relatively calm (of course, if he had let some snow slip in the Artic, who would have noticed?). Now, his eyes were wild and frantic, blinking back tears. His hands were shaking in the bands that kept him from getting too far off the bed. There was actual emotion in his voice, and his body shivered slightly. He was scared, Holly realized, and not even bothering to hide it. He knew that something huge had happened, and that absolutely terrified him. How could Holly be the one to tell him just how much destruction was wrought?
She decided to start at the beginning.
"We know Butler was shot, and we think that that was the trigger."
"Trigger for -" Artemis began to ask, frustration now coloring his tone.
"The snowstorm." Holly finally said. Artemis immediately fell silent.
"Snowstorm?" He repeated in a hushed voice.
"More like a snow tornado." Holly admitted. "It went more up than out." She said, trying to offer some mediocre kind of relief. It was true that it had extend far up to the sky, but it was plenty wide, at least a good couple square miles.
"How many?" Artemis asked flatly, all the life he had shown in him earlier instantly gone.
"Artemis?"
"How many people did I hurt?" His voice quavered. He didn't want to know, not really, but he needed to. What had he done to London, to its people? "I am not an idiot, Holly, I know that the streets would have been packed with - with residents and - and tourists -"
"We don't know yet." Holly admitted. "The Mud People have only just been able to return to that part of the city; all they have right now are estimates."
"Then give me an estimate."
Holly bit her lip. "Foaly's money is on 1000 dead, at least. He thinks it will rise when the ice thaws."
For a moment, Artemis's expression did not change, as if the information had not yet processed in his brain. But his breath hitched, and his eyes widened and watered, and his complexion went even paler (something Holly had not thought possible).
He lurched forward against his bonds, and Holly jumped back in surprise. What was he -
Artemis vomited over the side of the bed, horrible retching noises accompanying the sickening splashes of the contents of his stomach hitting the floor. Holly winced, then sighed. She should have seen that coming, but she hadn't thought that Artemis would have a sensitive stomach. It hadn't really occurred to her that Artemis felt emotions at all, though, before this entire mess.
He had always been like a robot or a statue in her memories and nightmares. Cold, unfeeling, and rigid, confined to the paths of his own logic. The rescue of his father had chipped away at that idea, but the dead-eyed vampire-skinned adolescent that had kidnapped her was far more prominent in her mind than the child that had cried for a solid minute upon hearing that his father had come back to him. Now though, it was nearly impossible to equate the monstrous Mud Boy with the youth getting sick over the bedside.
The skin around Artemis's wrist was turning red (a monumental feat), straining against his bonds as he was. Holly leaned over to the keypads locking Artemis's left arm in place and quickly tapped in the code to release it (the cuffs had not been her idea, as she was fairly certain Artemis could break them with either his mind or his ice without breaking a sweat, but higher-ranking officers insisted), allowing Artemis to fully lean over the edge as he gagged. Holly sighed again, this time with sympathy. No person should have to hear things like this, not even Artemis Fowl.
He was just dry-heaving now, a sound almost worse than the vomiting, loud pants and choking sounds and the tell-tale shuddering gasps. Holly almost wanted to reach out a hand, but she had no idea how Artemis would react to any attempted contact. So she stood awkwardly at the bedside, waiting for Artemis's stomach to calm.
Eventually, Artemis's breath evened out, fast and shaky but no longer choking on nothing. He took advantage of his free hand to prop himself up into a sitting position, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his free arm around them. He glanced at the other cuff that forced his left arm to the bed and contemplated cracking the lock, but such an action would probably not help convince the People he meant no harm. He didn't; he didn't want to hurt anyone, fairy or human. But . . .
His hands were growing familiarly cold. Shocked, Artemis pulled his thoughts away and darted his gaze around the room, looking for something else to focus on, some kind of distraction. How had his powers returned so soon? Wait, it didn't matter how. He couldn't let his powers get away again. Never again. Hadn't he already done enough damage?
His eyes lit upon the sink. "Water?" He croaked. He shook himself. "May I have some water, please?" But that was more than he deserved; he had killed so many people, why should he think he deserved water?
Nevertheless, Holly scurried over to the sink in the corner and filled a glass for him. He accepted it with trembling hands and took a tentative sip. The taste was purer than any tap water he had ever tasted before, speaking volumes of the People's filtration technology. It was probably also pumped straight from underground springs.
That's it, just focus on the water. Not the hundreds of lives lost because of you. The water. Safe, boring, unemotional water.
"Thank you." He murmured, twirling the cup in his hands and pretending he didn't feel it growing colder and colder.
"It's nothing." Holly muttered back. "I'll get someone to come clean this up soon."
"I'm sorry." He knew Holly would know it wasn't the puddle of sick he was apologizing for. But how could he possibly apologize for the lives he had taken? For the innocent people - men, women, Butler, children -
Water. The water. The clean, plain water. Be like the water. Still, unchanging, calm . . .
"Artemis, we know you didn't mean to." Holly's tone was too soft, too gentle. Where was the anger, the rage? He killed people! He was a monster! Why wasn't she angry with him? Captain Holly Short was not soft nor daft. Why was she speaking as if to a victim?
"That doesn't excuse it!" Artemis bit. "It's my fault."
My fault, my fault, my fault. No, stop. Focus on the water. Calm, tasteless, pure, calm, calm, calm, ca-
But the water was not calm. His hands were shaking violently, and the glass had started to frost over, the water turning to ice, faster and faster.
No, no, stop! Calm, calm, calm!
"Artemis -" Holly stopped. She had seen the freezing water. "Artemis, what are you doing?"
"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to do this; I can't - " He couldn't stop it; he was trying to rein it back in, the stirrings of power that were gathering inside him and filling the air, but he couldn't. The temperature of the room was dropping and his water glass was completely frozen over.
"Artemis, it's okay. Calm down." Holly was using her Mesmer. He could hear the bells in her voice, but unfortunately he wasn't looking in her eyes.
"I'm trying!" And he was, he really was. He was doing his best to wrangle his power back into place, to pull it back inside him, but it was so strong and he was still so mentally and emotionally exhausted. He couldn't stop the ice from manifesting his guilt, his terror.
Ka-shh! The glass shattered in his hands, falling into ice-coated shards in his lap.
"Whoa!" Holly stepped back in surprise.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to." Artemis scrambled. He placed a hand on the mattress, but sharply pulled it back to his chest when the ice began to spread to the bed as well. He pushed himself as far back as he could, using his free hand to freeze and shatter the chain shackling his right hand so he could scoot further back. The ice from that small contact on the mattress was still spreading across the bed, though. Patterns of frost and snow coated the bed sheets, swirling hypnotically in the light.
"It's alright, Artemis. It was just an accident. It's fine." Holly held her hands out in a calming gesture. "You're fine. It's fine." She took a step forward.
"No!" Artemis shouted. "Don't come closer!" He cradled his hands tight against his chest. "I can't control it; I don't want to hurt you too!"
"You won't." Holly soothed.
"How can you know that? I hurt Butler. I hurt innocent people."
"You didn't mean to."
"I still did. Get away from me! Please." Holly froze. If she didn't know better, she would have said that Artemis was begging. But that couldn't be right. Artemis Fowl the Second would never do something as demeaning as beg. But if anything had become clear in these past few minutes and hours, it was that she didn't know Artemis Fowl quite as well as she thought she had. Maybe no one did.
"Please." Artemis said again. "Just leave me alone." Ice was climbing the walls, radiating out from the spot where Artemis was plastered against the bed frame pressed against the wall. Frost floated in the air around him, anxiously swirling off the ice and around Artemis's head, once again streaking his pitch hair with white and gray and dusting his clothes with fine white powder.
Holly sighed, then took a step back. "Alright." There was no use in pushing Artemis. It was clear that he did not yet have a grip on his powers again, and the results could be catastrophic if she kept trying to approach him. "The Commander will want to talk to you soon, though, and I can't stop him."
Artemis nodded grimly. "Thank you." He murmured.
Holly walked back to the door, shivering slightly in the chill that now draped the room. She glanced back over her shoulder at Artemis and felt something in her chest twist at the sight of the boy, curled into a ball at the front of the bed and surrounded by expanding ice and swirling frost.
"If you need anything, there's a button on the monitor." Holly feebly offered.
Artemis gave a vague nod, but Holly doubt her words had even registered with him. His lips were twitching into wisps of words, and he was wringing his hands tightly, his eyes now fluttering shut.
Biting her lip, Holly turned and closed the door behind her.
"Well that went well." Foaly said as Holly entered the Ops room.
"Shut up. He didn't bring the roof down; that's got to count for something." There was no bite in Holly's words, though.
As usual, a good dozen different windows were open on the centaur's multiple screens and monitors. Front and center on the main screen was a live camera feed of Artemis's cri-med room (Cri-med rooms, short for criminal medication, were rooms in Police Plaza where recently arrested criminal fairies could be treated for medical problems while being kept under a watchful eye.). Holly was dismayed but unsurprised to see even more ice coating the walls and now the floor. Artemis had moved to a corner of the room, his legs curled up in front of him and arms held tight against his body. His head was bowed, so Holly couldn't see his face, but she saw the human's shoulders shaking and body trembling and could deduce the rest.
"Did you have to tell him about the death toll?" Root's voice didn't sound accusatory, thank Frond.
"He would have found out somehow, sir." Holly justified. "I thought it best to be up front about it. We want him to trust us, don't we?"
"That won't really matter if he freezes the Plaza." Root chewed at the end of an unlit cigar.
"Should we turn on the heaters?"
Root mulled it over. "Fowl said the heat makes him 'uncomfortable'. Do we really want to find out what that means? We don't want to kill the Mud Boy."
"How about the hallways?" Foaly tossed his two cents in. "Contain the ice, but let Artemis let off steam - well, snow, anyway."
"Do it." Root waved to signal Foaly's clacking on his keyboard.
"What's happening with London now?" Holly asked, walking over to Foaly's computers. Surely at least one of them had information about the city displayed on it.
"The storm's finally died completely, and the Mud Men have started smashing and burning their way through the ice." Foaly called up images of human firefighters slashing with their axes at the walls of ice that clogged the ruined streets. Black body bags had already began to be laid out and filled.
"How long is that going to take?" Holly wondered aloud.
"Weeks." Foaly said with certainty. "Maybe months. Artemis left them a nice cold snap to deal with as well, so you can't expect much of the ice to start melting anytime soon."
"The Mud Men have an official explanation?" Root asked.
"Some pile of crap about rising humidity levels and low pressure zones." Foaly chuckled. "They're trying to blame a snowstorm on what amounts to global warming, and absolutely no one believes it, especially with all the ice walls clogging the streets and the mountains of ice."
"Well do your best to promote that pile of crap with some of your scientific mumbo-jumbo." Root ordered. "I doubt that anyone would guess that any one person caused this, but the sooner they have a secure explanation, the less they'll investigate. With our luck, someone will end up digging up some security camera or phone camera that caught Artemis pulling a Jack Frost and start asking too many questions."
"Run with the pile of crap story, got it." Which meant his underlings got it, but same difference.
"Short, how long do you think it will be before Fowl is fit for interrogation about the ping?" Root moved on.
"I'd give it a couple hours, sir. Maybe longer." Holly advised.
Root clamped down harder on his cigar, clearly not liking the thought he'd have to wait even longer to find out about the violation of Haven's security. It had been several hours since the lockdown had been initiated, and the People were getting antsy, both in law enforcement and the public. He needed to produce answers, and soon.
"His power's aren't stable, sir." Holly guessed what the commander was thinking. "He needs time to get a grip on them again before we burst in there asking questions. Otherwise he might accidently freeze you solid."
"Not taking killing hundreds of people well. Shocker." Foaly muttered.
"Can it, centaur!" Root barked. He turned back to Holly. "Stay here and keep an eye on him. The moment you think he can be talked with without getting turned into an icicle, contact me."
"Yes, sir."
"Same goes to you, Foaly. If you find anything useful -"
"You'll be the second to know." Foaly acknowledged.
"I'm going to go update the council. They asked to be kept in the loop." With that, Commander Root took his leave.
Holly turned back to the window tab showing Artemis's room. Her heart sank in her chest. She really didn't want to have to be the one watching Artemis fall apart. Her brown eyes roamed around the screen, looking for something else to distract her. In the corner of the monitor, she spotted another room coated with ice and cloudy with mist. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.
"Foaly," she asked, "what's that?"
"Hmm?" Foaly followed her pointed finger. "Oh, that's where Butler's body is. We just cut out the entire block and winched it out of there; far easier than trying to laser the body itself out of the ice. Didn't want it to melt, figured Fowl would prefer an non-decomposing body, so I cranked the temperature down to freezing."
"Oh." Yet again something she really didn't want to think about. Whatever she (had?) thought about his boss, she had respected Butler for his prowess in battle and the genuinely good heart that she believed he had had. To think that such a man had fallen to an unknown assailant was nearly unthinkable; it was almost like thinking of a mountain collapsing or ceasing to exist. It was a monumental presence you took for granted as a fact of life. How could you comprehend it being gone?
"Foaly, do we have any idea what happened in that restaurant?" Holly growled.
Foaly sighed. "Well, the Retrieval team managed to chip out a couple of security cameras. There's no telling what survived in its memory banks, but I'm pulling what I can get. Probably not much of anything, but here's hoping it's more than yesterday's lunch special."
A couple more clacking of old-fashioned keyboard keys, and one final more tap added for dramatic effect, and a fuzzy white box appeared on the screen in front of the centaur tech.
"Well that's helpful." Holly said dryly. "More snow."
"Ye of little faith." Foaly tapped a few more keys. Two little green triangles appeared in the upper right corner and the extremely ancient sound of a VCR tape fast forwarding played over the speakers. Holly felt like rolling her eyes at that touch. For someone so passionate about technology, the centaur was surprisingly low-tech with personal touches.
Snow, snow, more snow, then -
"Wait, go back!" Holly said as she caught a flash of something that wasn't static.
Foaly had caught it too, already backtracking to the scene.
It wasn't much, just a still that had survived the damage done to the rest of the camera's records. The time stamp in the corner dated the shot to the current date, only minutes before the ping had gone off. It wasn't difficult to pick out Artemis and Butler from the crowd of patrons, lurking in a corner of the frame only barely in the camera's line of view; clearly they had been trying to hide in the camera's blind spot and only just failed. They weren't alone, though.
Another monster of a man stood opposite them, glaring in a threatening way at Butler. This other muscular man was standing in between the camera and another man, the only thing visible of this other man a pair of hands decked in several thousands of dollars of gold bangles, chains, and rings. They were gesturing at Artemis, who had his usual smug little smirk in place.
Holly never thought that she would miss that expression that usually made her want to punch the Mud Boy across the jaw.
"He was meeting with someone." Holly said aloud. "He mentioned that it was a trap."
"Hmm." Foaly murmured. "Unfortunately, that Mud Man is directly in between the camera and whoever Arty-boy is meeting with." Foaly zoomed in on the pair of hands, then blinked. "Wait a second." He narrowed the focus onto one of the man's bracelets, a thick gold one. A thick engraved bracelet.
Holly saw what Foaly was getting at. "Can you enhance the image?"
Foaly snorted. "Can I?"
" . . . Well, can you?"
"Of course I can!"
Foaly isolated the bangle in question, rotated it to a comfortable reading angle, and enhanced the image, pixels growing and shrinking and coming into focus until finally the engraving could be read.
"Jon Spiro?" Holly read out loud.
"On it." Foaly tapped out the name into his own personal search engine. "Jon Spiro. Shady Chicago-based businessman, and I use the term businessman as loosely as possible. Law enforcement has been trying to pin something on the man for over 30 years, but he always manages to skate away. Industrial espionages, pollution, abduction, Mob connections; he's got it all."
"Why on earth would Artemis be meeting with a man like that?"
Foaly shrugged. "Liaison for Daddy Fowl's empire? One criminal to another?"
Holly frowned. "Fowl Sr. is still in the hospital missing a leg. I don't think building his criminal empire is at the forefront of his mind."
"You said Artemis mentioned something about a trap? Maybe Spiro called the meeting."
"Maybe." It didn't feel right though. "Can you go back to the original photo?"
Foaly banished the ID bracelet that had served its purpose and called up the original image.
Holly studied the image. "Alright, what do we know? Artemis is meeting with a Mob boss Mud Man. Minutes later, a ping goes off from his location."
"Pretty safe to bet that Artemis pinged us. He's the only person in that room that knows we exist and has had access to our tech." Foaly nodded.
"A few minutes after that, Butler is shot, and Artemis goes ballistic." Holly finished.
"The meeting went south?" Foaly hazarded a guess. "Someone said something, a disagreement happens, and Butler takes a bullet."
"Probably for Artemis." Holly said softly, remembering Artemis's instance that it was fault Butler was hurt.
Foaly nodded along. "Butler goes down, Artemis unleashes a snowstorm in anger."
"So . . . the ping is benign."
Foaly snorted. "I wouldn't say benign - Artemis got far more information than I'm comfortable with him having - but I don't think he's going to be revealing it to any of the Mud Men governments or news sites anytime soon."
"So we can lift the lockdown?"
"Root might want to talk to Artemis and confirm our speculations, but I'd say the odds of another ping are pretty low. My only question," Foaly mused, "is why Artemis pinged us during a meeting."
Holly shrugged. That bugged her too, but that could be saved for later. Artemis was the one who got the information, and he was in their custody. There was no shadowy Mud Man organization with proof of the People or some lucky tech whiz gearing up to sell the information to CNN, and for now, that was all they needed to know.
Artemis was meditating. He had sent himself to the dream-state he usually occupied when planning a crime, but was using the space now to distance himself from his emotions. Floating in his own head, his thoughts wisps that vanished as soon as they appeared if he did not grab hold, Artemis could forget the guilt and the grief and concentrate on his next steps.
It was not a permanent solution. His hold over this state was tenuous at best. One distraction or disturbance in the over-world and he would be sent rocketing back into reality, his emotions slamming back into him and the ice growing stronger from them. He could not rely on meditation to keep from losing control; he had to find another way.
He had thought he had mastered them. He had thought that he had capped his emotions deep down where they could not affect him, his judgment, or his powers. Apparently he had not. All it took was one slip, one expression of grief and anger at the barbaric assassin that had ripped Butler from his life, and all his power had overflowed and reacted - violently.
It could not happen again. He could not let himself get so swept away in his emotions that he lashed out that way. He knew that, had known it since he was a child. He thought that what he had done was enough, that with his superior intellect and self-control he could cage his emotions and banish them. But that had never been true. They were still there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for a chink in the armor, a crack in the façade to worm their way through. Artemis was not a sociopath. He could not pretend he did not feel; he could not turn the emotions off. He had tried so hard to do so, but he had failed, and London had paid the price.
He needed control, better control than he had had before. He needed to learn how to handle his powers and their connection to his emotions. It was not something he had done much experimentation with in the past few years. After learning what exactly his ice could do when he felt too strongly, he had immediately set his efforts into not feeling at all. Playing with his powers was something he rarely did, all too aware that if he got swept away in the emotions and feelings it could all too easily spin out of control.
But now it seemed he had no choice. He had to figure out how to exercise more control over his emotions and his ability. If he did not, what happened in London could happen again, and who knew how much damage would be done before someone could stop him? What if he was in another crowded city center? What if he was near a daycare or a school? What if he was at Fowl Manor? No. No. He could not let that happen. He could not walk among innocents and the people he cared about as a ticking time bomb. He had to hid himself, tuck away into some crevice or corner of the earth that no one would find him until he was confident he wouldn't break again. He needed to rebuild his walls even stronger than before, forge new armor, gain a new grip on his powers. He would not another person die because of him.
With that last thought, his concentration was shattered.
"Fowl."
Emerging from the dream state was never pleasant. Artemis shook his head and took a sharp breath in as he regained his footing in reality. Opening his eyes, he was dismayed to see that the ice had continued to expand, even while he hid in his own head. Blinking and reorienting himself, he turned his head to the figure standing in the doorway.
"Commander." Artemis said simply. "Captain Short told me you would come." Artemis stood shakily, but remained standing in the corner he occupied.
The commander nodded, breath visible in the chilled air. "Minutes before the ice, we got pinged from your location." He jumped right in.
Ah. So they had registered his unintentional intrusion. "Yes, that was me, if that is what you're asking."
The commander looked simultaneously irked and relieved. "Why?"
Artemis hesitated. How much did he need to tell them? "A demonstration." He settled. "I was demonstrating a new piece of technology cobbled together from concepts I had learned from examining you technology, but I had no idea it could detect the People's tech as well as human's. I assure you if I had known, I would have disabled that function."
The commander glared sharply at him, and Artemis wondered what he had said to promote such a response. "What were you doing showing fairy-based technology to Jon Spiro?"
Well, that was a surprise. "You know about Jon Spiro?"
"You expect to destroy a couple square miles of London and us not to investigate? Now answer the D'Arviting question!"
Artemis flinched. A couple square miles? Holly had said the estimate was a thousand lives . . . Miles. He destroyed miles.
"I - I did not intend to sell it to him. I -" Artemis swallowed, "I underestimated him."
And Butler paid the price.
The temperature dropped. The snow and frost swirled anxiously at his feet.
No, no, stop it. Artemis barked in his head. Calm down, breathe, in, out, in, out . . .
"He stole it from me." Artemis said slowly, focusing more on his breathing and heartbeat than his actual words. "He and his hired gun, A-Arno Blunt. They had filled the restaurant with gunmen. Butler had prepared for trouble, and got most of them with a sonic grenade, but Blunt -" Artemis's voice choked, the scene all too visible in his mind. The snow whirled in the air around him, picking up speed and filling the room with a biting cold.
"Artemis - " He heard the commander say.
"Blunt shot him." Artemis growled. "He was aiming at me but Butler jumped in front of the gun!" That bullet was meant for him, and how much better would things be if that bullet had hit its mark? Butler would be alive, London would be whole, the people he killed and the families he had ripped apart would be healthy. What had Butler been thinking when he took that bullet for him?!
A small voice in the back of his mind said "his job" but Artemis shut that out. Butler was more than an employee, more than a bodyguard. Butler was family, a second father, and he was DEAD because of Artemis.
He didn't register himself falling to his knees, or the ice spikes growing from the ground, or the whirlwind of snow that formed around him. He did, however, feel the sharp pinch of a needle jammed into his neck. He reached a shaking hand up, suddenly feeling an enormous drain of energy in his limbs. His fingers wrapped around a metal cylinder, and he pulled it from his neck and held it out in front of him.
A dart, his mind foggily suggested.
Drugs.
Not again, he mentally complained before lurching sideways and crumbling to the ground.
Root sighed as the Mud Boy collapsed, the drug forcefully injected into his system taking hold and shutting him down.
"What are we going to do with you?" He murmured. Barely two minutes into the conversation and Fowl had already lost control. He hadn't wanted to immediately dart the human, but the intensity of the snow whipping through the room had concerned Root. Despite the calming front the boy had shown on the video feed, it was clear that he had not regained control of his emotions. Or if he had, the mention of Butler had dissolved whatever control the Mud Boy had managed to regain.
What were they going to do with him? Keeping him here in Police Plaza smacked of bad idea. Yet Root was not prepared to let him return to the surface world when the boy was so unbalanced and overcome with grief. A situation like London could easily arise again, and who knew how long it would take for the LEP to arrive on the scene? Root wanted him under watch. Letting him walk around unchecked would be like allowing goblins armed with nuclear weapons to wander Haven - a disaster waiting to happen.
First things first. Artemis Fowl could not stay in such a crowded area this volatile.
Root reached up to tap his earpiece. "Foaly, get a team to set up a medical room at Ground Zero. Stock it with tranquilizers and sedatives. Also call a van up front and a stretcher to Fowl's room."
"Anything else?" Somehow, Foaly could make even that simple remark sound sarcastic.
"Yeah. Hack the Fowl boy's computer and find out just what he created."
"He didn't tell you?"
"No, but I'm sure I'm not going to like it."
Can you tell that I really don't care about the actual plot of the Eternity Code? Yeah, I'm tying it off in the next chapter, so don't expect Artemis to be going to Chicago to freeze Spiro to the floor. Nope, I'm hijacking this plotline!
Anyway, leave your comments, thoughts, suggestions, complaints, and rants in the comments below, and I'll see you next time.