Hey guys. Back again. I'm sorry for the wait but things had been a little crazy lately. The birthday bash at my house was awesome. All my friends from the city came over and we played live music from 6:45pm to 11:30pm non-stop. We played basically every genre you can think of, from bands like Primus, Kansas, Lynard Skynard, Aerosmith and the Talking Heads, to the Butthole Surfers, Asking Alexandria, Slipknot, Halestorm, Rush, Deep Purple, and much much more. I had a fantastic time, met friends I hadn't seen in years, and basically didn't go to bed till well into 4:00am. It was a trip!
So I had to take a break from writing to get the party set up, and then focus on school. My dual credit college English is freaking crazy, and I'm juggling that between a college Biology class and an Algebra class. I had to slow down on the writing for a bit.
But now I'm back, and I'm ready to continue this story. I hope you all loved the change of pace in the last chapter, but now we're back on track with the heist. BTW, I'm typing this out August 30, 2013; and my birthday is coming around the corner. Arty and I share the same date; September 1st. I hope that somehow in some way, I do him justice on his birthday by typing out an awesome chapter.
Without further ado, here it is.
*Las Vegas, Nevada. The Bank Hotel and Casino. Main lobby*
"I don't want any slack faces in the crowd," Nicole Zeta told the guard as they observed the line of people waiting to check in at the front desk. As Billy's right hand man (or woman for this occasion), Nicole had many multiple duties. Her main job was to make sure that everything was in working order; that everything was running smoothly. But in between that, one had to make sure that everything looked good while in motion; and that was her job today. Watching the people waiting at the front desk made her realize that the line would probably be the first thing guests would see before checking in. She didn't want the simple sight of a drowsy or uncharismatic figure causing a possible customer to turn back.
"I only want happy faces," Nicole instructed the security guard. "No slack faces."
The security guard nodded his head. "Duly noted ma'am."
A couple of seconds of silence passed before Nicole turned her head and realized that the guard hadn't moved an inch since they had last spoken. Her face flashed with vindictive anger similar to an expression a Nazi officer would've made back in the hay-days of WWII. "GO! Do it now!" She commanded loudly.
Although flabbergasted by the outburst at first, the guard eventually came to his wits, and immediately began doing his job; going in between the lines of everyone waiting to check in, picking out individuals who seemed rather lazy, and politely asking them to leave the line.
Nicole felt satisfied, and let out a sigh of relief as she stared off into the distance and began to day dream. Everything was going smoothly. As stressful as this job was sometimes, it had its benefits; lots of benefits with lots of 0's. Financially, she was definitely secure. Emotionally…..it was a completely different story. It was 4 years ago to this day that she first applied for divorce. For 4 years, she did not look or talk to any man on a romantic level. She was strictly business. She even heard some rumors that the hotel staff had nicknamed her "Mrs. Ironsides." It wasn't her fault really. She just was not ready to start again. What she really needed a good lay, and unfortunately for her, any employee knew that sleeping with her in this hotel would be a complete professional suicide. Billy would have their heads on silver, diamond coated platters. The possible lawsuits and or sexual harassment accusations would send Billy Bank climbing up the walls like some radioactive superhero. But Nicole wouldn't stoop as low as picking out some random stranger from the line; she had more dignity than that. Because of all these different aspects, her love life at the moment was a balancing act.
Her train of thought derailed when she notice that someone in the line in front of her was about to sneeze. The mucus spraying victim appeared to be an old man, well into his 70's, with a bald head of hair which was covered by a trilby. In his quest of finding a handkerchief, he ended up dropping something on the floor.
Nicole's eyes locked on to the object that fell. She began to smile. Salivary glands went wet. She began to lick her lips.
On the floor, was the standard issue grading sheet for the Royal Five Diamond Award Critic.
She called over another guard as quickly as possible while using her headset. In it, she proclaimed "Get me Mr. Bank, quickly!"
*Las Vegas, Nevada. The Bank Hotel and Casino. Front-doors outside*
Harry Shields walked out of the hotel quickly, as if the plague was trailing closely behind him. He didn't look back, even after he noticed Billy Bank trying desperately to keep up with him. And boy, Billy Bank sure was desperate. Losing one Whale a few days before opening night wouldn't be so bad in the grand scheme of things. But Billy had been in the business long enough to know that there always is a pattern in certain things. He did not want this to become a pattern.
"You breaking my heart Mr. Shields," Billy Bank called out as he stumbled, trying to follow the young man towards his limo; which had just pulled up to the lobby by the point Billy Bank spoke.
"I'm sorry you feel that way Mr. Bank," Harry Shields replied while not looking back. "But I really have to go."
"But you can't leave just yet," Billy Bank shouted back dismayed. "Opening night is just around the corner."
"I spoke with a friend of mine," Harry Shields explained as he finally reached his limo. "A real good friend of mine, who told me very seriously, that it would be in my best interest if I left the hotel. I take his word for it. The man has good judgment." With that being said, Harry leaned into his limo.
"His judgment must not be all that great, if he knew what I had in store for you," Billy Bank pleaded with the young man to stay.
"I really gotta go," Harry Shields proclaimed as he rolled up his window. "Please take care," and with that, the window closed itself shut.
Billy Bank had made some weird whimpering and pleading sounds from the back of his throat in a last ditch effort to keep Harry Shields to stay on the grounds. The young lad caught a brief glimpse of the noises before his window had rolled up completely. When the limo started moving forward, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
"Good God that man is annoying," the young partner in Artemis Fowl's crime commented. As the limo merged its way into traffic, Harry Shields contacted his good friend via cell phone. The phone rang three times before Artemis Fowl answered.
"Hello?" Artemis Fowl proclaimed on the other end of the line.
Harry's face flashed his confusion. Artemis rarely ever uttered the phrase 'hello' over a telephone call; especially in that weird slurred tone of confusion that apparently came from Artemis Fowl the Second's voice. Nevertheless, Harry shrugged the notion off.
"What's done is done," Harry told Artemis Fowl. "The rest of the whales will leave within the next 3 days."
"…Good, very good," Artemis Fowl eventually replied. "Your assistance was needed, and we are entirely grateful."
'Ok, something is definitely wrong,' thought Harry Shields. Artemis would have more questions to ask Harry with the type of heist they were doing, than to just simply nod and say 'you done well.' On top of that, rarely did he ever give anyone compliments. With the long pauses and the slurred words that were unquestionably not confused with possible cell phone static, Harry could only come up with one possible theory as to why Artemis Fowl sounded so different. "…Are you drunk?" Harry Shields asked questionably.
There was a loud smack on the other end, as if someone fell off a table or slammed opened the door. In the background, Harry could clearly hear Artemis shout the phrase, "Shit! He knows! Abort mission! Abort mission!" Then, a couple of other voices came to interject. A loud commotion was heard, and then Harry caught the sound of a female voice speaking to him.
"Artemis Fowl is fine sir," Holly Short proclaimed. "And the mission is most certainly not aborted. He's just a little inebriated, that's all."
Harry Shields, not knowing who he was speaking to, had to laugh at the formal manner of which this voice tried to posses. "A little?"
"Ok, maybe a lot," Holly Short huffed. "But we do greatly appreciate your help."
"No sweat," Harry Shields stated. "It's all my pleasure. You take care now." Both Holly and Harry gave their goodbyes and ended the call.
As Harry slid back into his seat, he did make one observation out loud. "I'm surprised that Artemis Fowl hadn't gotten drunk sooner. This mission is crazy."
Back at the front entrance of "The Bank," Billy Bank watched forlorn as the limo containing one of his whales wheeled out of his hotel. There was really nothing he could do, but losing one of his best whales stung his pride. He even contemplated running after the man. But he knew it would be to no avail. Besides, as fate was to have it, he would have bigger fish to fry.
His cell phone rang in his pocket, and Billy Bank immediately answered. If a bystander were to have watched closely, they would've seen the entire spectrum of emotion paint itself across Billy Bank's face. He looked sad when the limo peeled out; angry when the limo was gone; bored when he first initially answered his phone; shocked when whoever was on the other end spoke; and completely 'ants-in-the-pants,' happy when he slammed his phone shut. He practically skipped his way inside his own hotel. He was happy indeed. And if one were to have heard the phone call, they would've understood why.
*Las Vegas, Nevada. The Bank Hotel and Casino. Main Lobby*
A few moments later, behind the line of people waiting to check into the hotel, Billy Bank met up with Nicole Zeta. No hellos were exchanged, nor was there even a head nod. Billy Bank went straight to business.
"Which one is he?" Billy Bank asked Nicole Zeta as he scanned the crowd.
"The one in the trilby sir," Nicole responded.
Billy Bank groaned as if he knew the answer. But after frantically searching for a few moments, Billy Bank concluded that he had no earthly idea what Nicole meant.
"What?" he asked confused.
Nicole immediately understood what Billy Bank was referring to. Her brain scattered around the database of anything she could use to help her boss understand what she meant by 'trilby,' but eventually, her brain settled itself on one expression. "The Dr. Doolittle hat," she exclaimed.
Billy Bank sighed now with actual understanding. He continued to scan the line for a few moments before finally spotting the man that fit the description. He was tall, gigantic even, but didn't pose a threat due to his incredibly old age. He appeared to either be in his 70's or 80's even. His clothing was rather bland, and his most striking feature was no even on his body, but rather what he was holding.
Billy Bank grew a grin that would've put the Cheshire Cat to shame when he noticed the "Royal Five Diamond Award," review chart in the old man's hands.
"Ok," Billy Bank told Nicole. "Let's butter this old man up."
Butler was not too impressed with his surroundings for the moment. His entire disguised itched and played up the fact that he was indeed older than what he actually appeared to be; much to his chagrin. He didn't like being old, it just brought up bad memories. Being dressed like the oldest man imaginable just made it worst.
He did however like his aspect of the mission. Although he wanted to be more involved, he realized early on that Holly and Juliet would be better suited guarding Artemis than he ever would be. His physical age and his true age had finally leveled themselves out. He would not be able to do as much as he would like to do for this heist. So, why not take an opportunity to play that up? It was Arty's idea to begin with, Butler was just rolling with it; performing his duties with a genuine smile. This was going to be fun, and most importantly, relaxing. He didn't have to do a damn thing; Billy Bank would do all the hard work for him.
At this point, Nicole Zeta walked over to him. "Excuse me sir?"
Butler turned to face the Italian woman with a smile. He noticed her eyes; she was completely submissive to whatever answer he would give her. She had no idea who he truly was. She fell for his disguise. Perfect.
"May I ask your name?" Nicole inquired.
"Chaplin," Butler proclaimed with his perfect, Home Counties, old timey English accent. "Kensington Chaplin." When he said his name a second time, he removed his hat and gestured a bow.
Nicole Zeta smiled. The man seemed so happy that he was almost senile. This was perfect for her hotel staff, because they could treat him like royalty and he wouldn't question it. She noticed that the hotel reviewer carried with him a large purse-like bag, while behind him, he strolled a rather large and heavy suitcase with even more bags on top of it. With first things being first, she decided to get the hotel staff to take his bags.
"Well, Mr. Chaplin," Nicole began with a warm, welcoming, and homey glance. "If your more than willing, I'd be happy to get the hotel staff to get your bags for you, and get you out of this pesky line."
"Really?" Butler proclaimed; still in character. On the inside, he was giddy. This was going to be a treat. "Why how kind of you! Thank you."
Nicole nodded and reached for the purse-like bag he carried on his left arm. "Allow me," she stated in a murmur, almost under her breath. As she reached for the bag, she thought about h-
BARK BARK BARK!
Nicole jumped back immediately in shock and gasped. The bark was high-pitched, and somewhat chipper in tone; as if it belonged to some small canine. It made total logical sense, but it left Nicole in shock. How was this man able to bring his pet into the hotel, when clearly there was 'No Pets Allowed,' signs all over the building? Moreover, why didn't any guard search this man.
Butler meanwhile looked towards the bag and made a shushing noise. After reprimanding whatever animal that was in the bag, he turned towards Nicole with a very wide and apologetic smile.
"I'm very sorry, you'll have to forgive her highness," Butler's character 'Kensington Chaplin,' proclaimed. "She is the most delicate of animal. It only upsets her, when papa is no longer carrying her." He then made a small laugh, to lighten the mood. Nicole, in the midst of the situation, laughed back in good manners. Butler then lifted up a flap surrounding the carrier (which the flaps themselves gave off the impression of a purse in Nicole's mind) and proclaimed to the non-existent puppy inside "All is well dear."
"Well that's alright," Nicole responded. "You can carry her. But I'll have my guys take the heavier stuff for you." She snapped her fingers and two bellhops went to their work, grabbing the suitcase and multiple bags, and then heading off to get a luggage cart to lighten their load.
Had Nicole been watching closely, she would've noticed the quickest business transaction in the history of the universe.
As one of the bellhops passed Butler, the man in his disguised paid off the bribed employee with a twenty dollar bill. Butler's sleight of hand technique was so advanced, had a bystander been watching, they've would've missed it in the blink of an eye. But why was this employee bribed?
In the employees left pocket, was the remote control to the voice box, which emitted the barking sound from within Butler's precious cargo.
Everyone was all smiles. Nicole was all smiles because she thought she was buttering up the Royal Five Diamond award reviewer. Butler was all smiles because everything was going according to plan, and the Real Five Diamond award viewer was about to get the shaft. Hook, line, and sinker.
As the paid off bellhops returned with the luggage carrier, one of the larger items fell off and accidently slammed into a pedestrian's leg. The pedestrian appeared to be in his late 30's. He had thin brown hair, which was cut short, blue eyes, and somewhat tan skin. His clothing was nothing out of the ordinary. He sported a simple coat and button up shirt with kakis. He could've easily been lost in a crowd. He was anonymous.
It was because of his anonymous nature, that the Bellhop did not expect much from him. The bellhop removed the large luggage item from the man's foot.
"Sorry sir," the bellhop replied.
From out of nowhere, the civilian asked with vindictive anger, "Why does that man get to go ahead of us in line?!"
The bellhop looked up and noticed that the unidentifiable man was pointing at his two bosses, one whom he worked for officially, and the other whose name was shrouded in mystery. Naturally, he had to keep up the act, so he responded simply.
"The man is a VIP guest sir," the bellhop stated.
"Oh, so what does that make me?" the middle-aged man replied. "A VUP? A very unimportant person?"
The Bellhop sighed. "Sir, I just don't know what to tell you." And with that, he and his partner made their ways with Butler's bags, following their disguised patron quickly.
The middle-aged man's eyes squinted with disgust. He watched the two bellhops move with that strange man. This man didn't appear to be special. He was old, no question about that. But why was he able to leave the line? And why did he appear to be speaking to a manager, when clearly he didn't even know that the girl was manager to begin with? All of these questions were making his head spin. But beyond that, the man was angry; angry at the hotel staff for their rude treatment of other customers.
It was then that the middle aged man; the REAL Five Diamond Award critic, pulled out his check list and failed the hotel on general employee to customer transactions.
*Las Vegas, Nevada. The Bank Hotel and Casino. Room 502*
RING! RING!
"Hello? Kensington Chaplin here."
"Butler, its Holly. Blast him."
"Got it."
"And make sure to take all the precautions needed. Wear the mask, use the gloves, do everything Artemis told you to do."
"Again, I got it."
"Ok. Take care."
"You too. Buh-bye."
Butler ended the phone-call lightly. There was no reason to be rude or crass, and there was no reason to not speak more on the phone with Artemis either. But there was work to be done, and Butler had a job to do.
As he lightly removed his coat while walking over to the puppy carrier which contained the equipment needed to perform his task, Butler observed the surroundings of his Villa. Artemis was not kidding when he said that Billy Bank went all out. This placed seemed more fit for royalty than for those who were royally screwing Mr. Bank over. Perhaps Butler would have to convince Artemis to propose most of his transactions and meetings for the heist here, rather than the small, cramp, but securely tight Holiday Inn across the street.
Butler bent down and opened the puppy-carrier. He removed the voice-box, which thankfully worked before Nicole had the chance to take his bag. His hands crept inside until he found the dastardly substance which he would use for his dastardly plan.
When Artemis had first arranged for Butler's part of the plan, he didn't tell Butler the chemical compound of the device that he would be using for his project. The only thing that Artemis mentioned was that the smell would be awful. He also mentioned that if not done correctly, the compound could turn highly acidic and possibly cause damage to Butler and his surroundings. Because of all this, Butler was extremely careful.
He removed the container which held the substance with the pinchers that were also inside the puppy-carrier. With his hands he removed the catalyst; a pepper-like compound, which would be the last thing added to the chemical substance.
After setting out all his elements needed, Butler examined his Villa once again. He was looking for the air-vent which conjoined with the room next door to his. It took a while, but Butler's eyes eventually managed to catch it. The bad news was that the air vent was fairly high up in the air; towards the ceiling. The good news was that Butler could easily use one of the dining room chairs for the job needed.
Placing on his mask, and using his pinchers, Butler moved the substance container towards a glass of ice water. After mixing the glass of water quickly with his pinchers, he moved the glass of water towards the chair which now sat on the top of his clothing drawer. In this position, the water was right next to the air vent. Butler then used the pinchers to grab the pepper like compound (after removing its lid of course) and moved the pepper towards the glass of water. Slowly, he added the pepper, and after a few shakes he waited.
His eyes eagerly watched the water for any-signs of activity. Suddenly, Butler felt immense joy when he noticed a small pillar of smoke rising from the glass of water. Quickly, Butler activated a portable mini-fan which rested on the end of a bendable stick, and blew the air into the air vent. After a good 45 seconds of blasting the smoke into the room next door, Butler pressed a button on his communicator, which contacted two bribed employees on the 50th floor.
*Las Vegas, Nevada. The Bank Hotel and Casino. Room 501*
Marcus Silvia was not having the most pleasant of hotel experiences. In all his days of working as a Royal Five Diamond Award reviewer, he had never seen a hotel with a more convoluted check-in process much like The Bank. On top of that, he couldn't snap his mind off the two very rude Bellhops and the surprisingly old man that caught his eye down at the front desk. Something smelled fishy, and Marcus knew it.
But there was no use in worrying or conjuring up vivid imaginative stories about whom the old man was or his involvement with the church during his spare time. He had to take in the hotel experience. So, while he waited, he reviewed the catalogue of magazines the hotel offered while sitting on his bed. The bed seemed oddly uncomfortable, but he would review that later.
Everything was going simply peachy….until.
HIS THROAT! OH GOD! HIS THROAT WAS CLOGGING AT THE STENTCH! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT TERRIBLE SMELL!
*Las Vegas, Nevada. The Bank Hotel and Casino. Front desk*
RING RING
Debbie, the woman that Artemis constantly thanked everyday for the bribed employees, received the call without hesitation. She was up to date with the plan. She knew what was going on. Hell, she took over the checking-in process when she spotted the real five diamond award reviewer's face amongst the crowd. All she had to do was play solitaire on the computer and act like she was doing her regular job; her real job; the one she had to apply for.
She replied to the call quickly. "Hello, this is The Bank. How may I be of assistance.?"
She heard coughing and gagging on the other end. "Hello. I'm on the 50th floor, and there's this atrocious smell…..it smells like…..I just have to move very quickly."
For a small glimmer of a second, Debbie felt a twinge of remorse for the torture that Artemis Fowl and his gang were putting the critic through, and also for the torture that was yet to come. Sadly, that went away when the reminder of a huge "pay bonus," replayed in her head.
"Ok Sir, just let me see if there are any available rooms at this moment," Debbie replied. She finished her move in solitaire, making it seem like that on the other end, she was taking her time. "I'm sorry sir, but we are fully booked until opening night. But I'll let you know if anything opens up. Enjoy your stay at The Bank." And with that, she hung up.
*Las Vegas, Nevada. The Bank Hotel and Casino. Room 501*
Marcus left his hotel room stupefied. But before he could even process his astonishment and confusion, he had to cough and gag outside his hotel room for a good 15 minutes. The smell was simply atrocious. Words could not even describe it. And unfortunately, apparently, he was stuck in the heart of the lion's den, where that smell seemed to emerge from.
After his coughing fit, he was fully able to let the experience of what just happen settle in. He was flabbergasted. He never had a hotel experience like this in his life. If Mr. Bank was the pioneer of the hotel industry that everyone in his office informed him to be, then unfortunately for Mr. Bank, he was off to a rough start.
Things got worse when he noticed someone coming down the hallway. He couldn't believe the sight he saw. There he was; that man from the front lobby. Beside him were two hotel employees who seemed to be listening to every word he stated.
Butler had to refrain from locking eyes with the actual critic. He felt bad for him. Here he was, Domovoi Butler; being treated like royalty because he was being mistaken for the guy that Artemis Fowl the Second had planned on torturing for the gang's benefit. However, there was a job to do. And after all, he was one hell of a butler. Who was he, to deny his master?
"I want you to let Mr. Bank know, that I'm ready to see all available rooms," Butler told the employees with his great accent once again as they passed the real critic.
"Yes sir," the employee responded.
Butler lifted up the Puppy-carrier, the one thing that started this whole chain of events for the poor, poor Royal Five Diamond Award reviewer.
"Her highness is so very sensitive to smells," he observed.
*Las Vegas, Nevada. Holiday Inn Hotel. Few minutes earlier*
"Butler, its Holly. Blast him….And make sure to take all the precautions needed. Wear the mask, use the gloves, do everything Artemis told you to do….Ok. Take care."
Holly ended the cell phone call and laid her head down in at the black jack table. Foaly watched has Holly placed her head into the space her arms provided. Holly, Foaly, Artemis, and No.1 were currently in Foaly's hotel room, waiting for Foaly's demonstration. Part of Artemis Fowl the Second's itinerary today was to catch up on all aspect of the heist, and see how prepared everyone was. This posed as a problem for Holly because she literally had to do all the work. Artemis, while not blacked-out drunk, was starting to form sickness while No.1 had to work on his disguise a bit more. The demon had proclaimed he was 99.9% finished, and that it would only take him a second. Both men had entered the restroom (Fowl to vomit, No.1 to prepare his disguise), and neither one of them had came out in over 30 minutes.
Holly was just tired. And Foaly noticed this.
He neighed a teasing whine. "Rough day at the office?" he jokingly asked.
Before Holly could reply, a loud trumpet vomit was heard by both of them coming from the bathroom. After glancing towards the closed door, wonder what in the name of the Gods was happening in there, Holly turned her head back towards Foaly.
"Oh, you have no idea," she uttered.
Foaly cackled. "I gotta say, Karma's a bitch. You're the one that wanted to take a break and get the mud-man drunk. Speaking of which, why on earth did you do that anyways?"
Holly hummed a little bit as she moved her head about in the space between her arms; trying to find more comfort for her head, so that she could lie down and possibly drift off to "Nap-time," land. "I got bored," Holly finally stated. "I wanted to break and I didn't know what else to do. I figured it could be fun."
As Foaly checked his equipment, he said, without even looking up, "You didn't get Fowl drunk just so you could sleep with him could you?"
Holly's head shot up like a rocket. Any previous grogginess had disappeared, being replaced by the adrenaline that massive shock ignites. Her eyes widened. She started coughing once Foaly's eyes locked with hers. She had to find an escape route.
"No!" Holly shouted loudly. Then she tried her best to smile. "No, no no no. Gods, why would I do that? No, not at all."
Foaly cocked an eyebrow. "Don't play dumb with me Holly. And besides, I don't care who you sleep with. Question is, how's the rest of the team going to take it?"
Holly's head crashed back down on the table again. With a defeated groan filled with exhaustion, she proclaimed. "You're right, you're right. I wasn't thinking. But I don't give a damn what anyone thinks."
Foaly chuckled. "You seemed awfully nervous when I made the accusation."
Holly raised her head again. "It's just, how the hell could you tell?!" She asked with annoyance in her voice.
"The missing earrings, the missing socks, the cologne on your neck being more suited for a male than a female, the fact that Artemis couldn't stop staring at you cleavage when you first walked in my room," Foaly concluded.
Holly paled for a brief second and covered her chest with her arms.
"I can be a great deductive genius too you know," Foaly uttered.
Suddenly, both Foaly and Holly turned their heads towards the bathroom door when an eruption of Artemis's laughter busted through. This perplexed them. Holly had never heard Artemis laugh as much as he did at that moment. As the door-knob turned, Holly's anticipation raced. Just what was Artemis laughing about?
The door opened, and holly began to laugh as well.
"Very funny," No.1 muttered as he held on to the drunken Artemis, while Holly and Foaly both pointed and laughed at him. No.1 had officially dawned his human disguise; which was the reason for everyone's laughter. There wasn't much of a change from his original disguise. He had based his human form off one of his favorite human actors; Leonardo DeCaprio. He pretty much looked very close to an identical twin of the man. There were a few notable differences. The jaw was a little squarer, the hair was raven black, and No.1 had decided to give his Leonardo DeCaprio disguise green eyes instead of blue. But that was not the most notable difference; the one that had everyone laughing.
Artemis, in his drunken distortion, pointed a figure at No.1's face, which touched the extremely (though not disproportionately) large nose. "His face," the red-in-the-face Irish lad howled. "His face! Look at his nose!"
Holly had almost fallen off her chair as she held her gut in laughter. "No.1, are you trying to be human or a parrot?"
No.1 just sighed as everyone in the room laughed at him. They were fools, for only he knew the power that his new nose would accomplish. His new nose would be the perfect distraction for his disguise; big enough to be considered fake, but real enough to be considered large. It would perplex people more than make them suspicious. It was ingenious, even if Artemis, Holly, and Foaly didn't know it yet.
"Why are earth would you go with that as your disguise?" Foaly asked; tears of laughter streaming down his face.
"For one thing," No.1 stated, "The Departed happens to be one of my favorite movies. Secondly, the nose will work."
"I sincerely doubt that," Holly Short concluded as her laughter finally died down.
No.1 struggled to bring Artemis to his chair. When he finally sat him down, No.l pulled away and made his great speech. "Look at all the great mud-men with large noses; Javier Bardem, Geddy Lee, Indiana Jones! All men had big noses and all did great things. But the biggest reason why this is the perfect addition to my disguise, is because it's so underused. People doubt the power of the Brody!"
"The Brody?" Holly asked confused.
Artemis, replied with a slur as he laid his head on Holly's shoulder, "Brody is the technical term for a disguise with a large nose."
"It can work!" No.1 exclaimed. "Not too many people use it now of days, but it can work. The nose plays, and I want to prove that to you all."
Foaly finished the last bit of tampering on the Shuffle Deck machines, and then motioned his arm for No.1 to join the group. "I would talk to Qwan about the disguise technique. Seeing as how he has the biggest cover and most important aspect of the mission, I'd ask for his advice. In the meantime Toucan Sam, come join us at the table while I give a little demonstration."
After a few seconds of angry glares, No.1 sighed and sat down on his seat at the black-jack table. Foaly popped his fingers in a charismatic way; the way you'd see a cinema villain or hero do right before they say the lines 'let's get down to business.'
It was a sight to see if one was there. Behind the blackjack booth table, was a large white male with unkempt hair (Foaly had been taken his serum enough over the mission to remain human during the heist, just for the purposes of discretion and security). At the other end of the table, was a very fine, auburn haired lady with caramel skin and long legs (Holly took her serum that morning, in order to fit into her hazmat suit), and drunk, tired, and disinterested Artemis Fowl the Second, and Leonardo DeCaprio with a larger nose.
"I re-routed all the main impulses going into the randomizer," Foaly explained. "It was a bit of a struggle since I'm use to working with this type of technology pre-techno crash days. The hardwires have been replaced with more eco-friendly systems. But, I managed to crack the code, and I think I have everything covered." Foaly had been using his hands during the analogy, explaining the system and how it would work for their advantage. "In Black-Jack, the best score you can get is twenty one."
Artemis, in his inebriated state, cackled into a coughing fit. "Geez, I didn't know that!" Artemis proclaimed sarcastically with a grin.
Foaly only smiled knowingly and shook his head. "That was uncalled for Mud-Boy."
"I'm drunk, I don't give a damn," was Artemis's reply.
"Anyways, back on topic," Foaly proclaimed. "so, if I routed this right, the results should be twenties, and black jacks to all the players, so that the dealer will always bust."
Foaly pressed a button and the machine went to work. The sound of shuffling cards brought a somewhat relaxed vibe to pulse throughout the room. When the machine was finished, Foaly removed the casing and pulled out the deck of cars. He distributed the cards evenly; two to each player, including the dealer.
The gang watched as everything went horribly wrong.
As each individual player flipped their cards over, Holly, Artemis, and No.1 shoot puzzled faces as they came to find that they were distributed 3's and 2's. Foaly began to suspect something as well, and thing got worse when he uncovered his cards. Black-jack.
"….let me try that again," Foaly announced.
He redid the order of operations once again. He put the cards into the machine to shuffle, removed the cards, distributed the cards once again, and flipped them over one by one. The results were exactly the same. The dealer got black jack while everyone else remained under 20, even after having their hits requested.
A cold silence filled the air as Foaly looked down at the Black-Jack table in disbelief. Where did he go wrong?
Artemis broke that silence with a loud laughter. "Donkey-boy, looks like you got some work to do."
"I can fix this," Foaly muttered under his breath. "I can fix this."
In the back of his mind, his conscious asked one question. What if you can't?
*Hermillo. "The Bank" manufacturing plant. Sonora, Mexico.*
Grub slammed his glass of beer down on the table after finishing his speech. Thankfully, because the serum Foaly designed removed magic from the user while in disguise, Grub had no concerns of losing his magic. Of course, this lead to some moments of sheer bravery that was completely uncharacteristic for the young fairy, such as this moment.
He had noticed how his fellow co-workers were being treated. He noticed the ridiculously low-pay even in the midst of a high-risk job. They were surrounded by toxic chemicals every minute of every day. The sweltering heat of the Mexican sun practically burned them to a crisp. They had to pack all the truck and move all the equipment inside the factory when something malfunctioned, essentially meaning that Grub and the Mexican workers literally did "all the heavy lifting."
What did they have to show for it by the end of the week? Nothing.
And it pissed Grub off.
So during lunch, he stated his case with a few fellow employees who knew nothing of his identity. Their names where Hector, Alverez, Santiago, and Nester. Grub made a proclamation with them; a proclamation that could pretty much shatter the entire operation of the plant for a good 6 months. He wanted their help, and asked if they agreed that life on this plant was hell.
When he slammed the glass down on the table, all he received back were mesmerized stares.
"Hey bro, if you keep complaining," Santiago described in his native tongue. "They'll fire us all just for listening."
"That's what I'm saying!" Grub responded back vindictively in fluent Spanish. "The conditions are brutal. You can't disagree with me right?"
Although it was barely noticeable, Grub could detect that all four men agreed with a short nod of their heads.
"I mean, the food is terrible," Grub elaborated. "The pay is short. The risk is high. The hours are way too long, and there's barley anytime for lunch or even a break."
"That's life in Mexico bro," Nester stated with a swig of his beer.
Grub's eyes fell short, as though he felt that all hope was lost. But then as he tried to look back up to face his co-workers once again; his eyes noticed a poster on the wall. It stated "Zapata beer: start the revolution."
Grub felt a surge of pride, vindication, and anger at that moment. With his fake mustache on, he looked practically heroic, as he said his speech.
"Have you all forgotten about Carlos Zapata?" Grub asked. "When the poor had their land stolen, they figured it was lost for good. But Zapata said to them 'Better to die on your feet, than to live on your knees.' And they fought. And they fought."
A silence fell amongst the room again. As the seconds passed, Grub felt as if he accomplished nothing.
His spirits rose when Hector raised his glass. "And they fought," Hector stated.
Santiago raise his glass as well. "And they fought."
Nester joined in with a smile "And they fought."
Alverez was practically jumping with joy. "And they fought!"
Grub placed his glass in with all the other employees' glasses. He stared them right in the eye. "Gentlemen, revolution begins at dawn." They drank to that.
