Aboard Opal's Flagship
Shots rang out in the distance, echoing down the corridor and bouncing off of its metallic walls in an endless repetition. Smoke hung in the air, and the scent of death accompanied it. It was an ominous miasma, and it bespoke the unforgiving struggle that raged between the determined intruders and the ship's fearless guardians.
Crimson laser fire careened down the hallway from one direction, while the bursts from an LEP pulse rifle and an appropriated laser rifle flew from the other. Butler and Juliet dished out the latter, firing expertly from around opposite corners at an intersection. Daemons—dozens of them—returned fire, riddling the expanse with scorches and holes. Most of these shots were on mark, and forced Butler and Juliet to take cover.
"These guys don't let up!" Juliet shouted, pressing herself against the wall while the laser bolts showered past.
Butler stood patiently opposite to her, his face calm and bereft of worry. "Indeed."
Artemis Fowl stood a few meters behind the man, in the hallway they had come through. Dozens of dead daemons littered the way, and the signs of battle were ubiquitous. The young man ignored all of the carnage around him, thinking about the plan.
They had made their way from the lower level without much opposition, but they had recently encountered more groups of hostiles that were clearly meant to impede their progress. The fighting had been intense and brutally efficient, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake, and there was no indication that such would change. Every step was an uphill struggle; everywhere they went they were contested by Opal's creations. As Butler and Juliet waited out the barrage, Artemis occupied himself with future considerations. He was quite useless in a gunfight, and so he left it to the professionals. Instead he used his brain to anticipate what would happen next.
He knew by now that Orion had advanced his plan; it was evident in the way Opal positioned her forces so lightly compared to their full potential. At the moment the pixie was no doubt moving to intercept the man, possibly ambush him in a location of interest. In fact, Artemis knew exactly where that place was to be—he knew almost everything by now, and it was almost frightening how easily he could think like Orion. He tried not to dwell on their similarities, but it was difficult. Orion was a monster, and he, Artemis Fowl of this reality, had been just one little step away from ending up like him. Now he had to stop what this other one had become; he had to stop himself.
A series of explosions erupted as the Butlers tossed grenades down the hallway. The two bodyguards then aimed around the corners and fired at the disoriented foes, striking them down without a shred of mercy. After a few moments of intense shooting, the fight came to an abrupt halt.
"That's the last of them, for now," Juliet said, still aiming down the corridor.
Artemis nodded, and after checking their gear they moved out once more. They passed a few dozen killed hostiles with caution, aware that these creatures could pose a threat even if only slightly alive. Butler took no chances—he put an extra shot into each one as they went, his eyes bearing the professional coldness that decades of experience had instilled.
"How are we doing for time?" the intimidating man asked placidly.
"Nearly perfect so far," Artemis replied. "This vessel should be nearing five-thousand kilometers shortly, and Orion will soon deploy his next phase. I do not think Opal will be able to stop him."
Butler frowned a little. "Then we had best hurry."
Artemis nodded, suddenly taciturn. He was thinking.
Their efforts were not about stopping Orion from enacting the next phase—Artemis actually wanted him to. What Orion was doing was exactly what he had anticipated, and so knowing his foe's strategy he had formulated a plan that capitalized on its workings. The fact that it was nearing the next stage was simply a marker in the overall progression of the conflict, an indicator that brought them closer to the final deception. Artemis knew Orion too well; the only way he defeat him was by using tactics that would deceive him until the very end, and then strike with everything at once. But there was a danger in this, because he was not hunting prey—he was hunting the greatest hunter who ever lived, a Fowl. Any mistake would interchange their positions, turning him into the kill. It was such a dangerous game, in which the entire world hung in the balance.
One way or another, a Fowl would win it.
Level 72, Section 12
Major Holly Short fired a controlled burst from her rifle, striking a daemon in the chest and sending it sprawling across the hall. Many others took its place, but she was unafraid; a million of these bastards could stand in her way, and she would still press on. Having been through all that she had, there was little that could possibly intimidate her; little that could stand against her iron discipline and explosive determination.
A team of fifty daemons was ahead of her, firing relentlessly and doing everything they could to kill her. She reciprocated gladly by blind firing her rifle around the corner, inundating them with random but no less lethal shots. After several seconds of this she drew back, hearing the sound of more incoming hostiles and knowing that if she did not break through now she would be cut off. This was not an option—she had to get to Artemis and the others, and fast!
The elf pressed against the wall as her attackers kept firing. They evidently wanted to keep her pinned down, and it was working very well. She clenched her teeth and fired around the corner again, hoping to provoke them into doing something stupid. Their response was a withering barrage of fire, and several of its shots sliced into her rifle and blew it right out of her hands.
"D'Arvit!" she cursed, glaring with a rotten mood as her pulse rifle clattered down the corridor, riddled with molten holes. That weapon was useless to her now; good thing she had others. As she reached for her neutrinos she heard a very intelligible series of sounds down the corridor—the sound of grenades being primed. It made her grin dangerously.
"That's right, give me some more ammo!" she growled, drawing both blasters and holding them readily in her hands.
Holly was always one to bite off more than she could chew, and chew anyway. That proclivity was certainly true now. She heard the grenade connect with the metal flooring, and then saw it roll right alongside her—a perfect toss. A light on the grenade flashed red. She was already moving. With her blasters held at the ready, Holly hooked the grenade with her right foot and kicked it straight back down the hall. This was done not a second too late, as the device had been timed—cooked as some would put it—and exploded almost immediately after she kicked it back. The detonation went off in the faces of the closest daemons, and it sent a devastating blast through their positions. As fire and smoke filled the air, Holly burst into action.
With determination—and no small amount of thrill—written across her features, Holly charged around the corner and jumped straight at the muddled enemy. Fingers on the triggers, eyes on her targets, she dived forward through the air in a classic gunslinger move, firing full-auto with both weapons as she flew. Neutrino bursts hammered into the daemon infantry, striking eleven down before they could gather themselves sufficiently to take cover or return fire. When they did Holly's flight had ended. She hit the ground with a roll, incidentally dodging the withering response fire that was aimed higher, and came up guns blazing. Several more daemons fell, and the rest were inhibited by the smoke and haze from the grenade as well as the fact that they were tripping over their dead comrades. Holly burst through the destruction, finding herself within arm's length of the enemy. They were tall, and she was very short compared to them, so she used it to her advantage. The first daemon didn't see her coming; she simply pressed her blaster into its lower abdomen as she ran by, putting a hole clean through him. The daemon beside this one lowered its weapon to shoot her, but she pushed the barrel down more, jumped up onto it, and using the gun as leverage hopped up onto the daemon's head before it could fire. Then, like an Olympic athlete, the elf used the daemon's head as a diving board and vaulted into the air towards the others.
Ahead of her were another fifteen daemons, and when they saw her climb onto their comrade they simply opened fire, riddling the daemon with holes just as the elf jumped off. Holly flew over them, and with both neutrinos extended she placed shot after shot into the hellish monsters as she went, killing almost all of them before she landed. In this case she did not land on the floor, but instead on the face of the last remaining daemon; her heavy combat boots slammed into its blunt features, cracking bone and eliciting a very angry growl from the creature. The force of the blow sent the daemon falling, and Holly went with it. Together they crashed onto the floor, but the struggle was far from over.
Holly lost her grip on one of her blasters when she hit the hard flooring. The face-stomped daemon had crashed down beside her, and it moved fast. Reaching out with its clawed hands, the bloodthirsty creature grabbed onto her before she could bring her other blaster to bear, and then used its powerful arm to throw her into the wall. The force of the impact did little thanks to her armor, but her head still ached and her other blaster flew from her grip, and her vision blurred for just a second; that daemon used that second to get up close again, this time with its sidearm drawn and glowing with a primed laser charge. Holly saw it coming, even with her blurred vision, and desperately drew the combat knife she had at her side. The daemon fired, and Holly swung.
The laser bolt careened at her, glowing hot and deadly, but it met her swinging knife instead. By luck and ridiculous probability the attack hit it at an angle, such that it glanced off and hit the wall. The knife partially melted on one side, but it still had an edge, and Holly was already charging by the time the daemon realized what had happened. She sliced its legs right in the tendons, severing nerves and causing for it tumble over. Nevertheless, the creature aimed its weapon and tried to kill her, firing wildly. One shot glanced off of her side, melting part of her armor, and another nearly blew her face off, but she was far more effective with her ruined knife. With a raw scream Holly slashed the blade across the daemon's throat, and then followed up by slamming it down into its head. The daemon died instantly, and Holly was left alone, almost tangled in a mass of corpses that she herself had killed. Her breathing was heavy, and her eyes were wide—wide with the adrenaline and killing rage that the fighting had instilled. She took a moment to breath, and then got to her feet to observe the carnage. Final kill count: one-hundred-and-six.
Not bad…
Holly Short picked up her neutrinos and deposited them in their holsters. Then she glanced at the partially-melted combat knife that was stuck in the last daemon's cranium, and decided to leave it. She had five more knives concealed anyway. After pausing to listen for any more incoming hostiles, the elf continued on her way, unto yet another trial that was destined to be inundated with death.
Level 76, Elevator Shaft
The soft hum of the elevator was a pleasant sound, though it would have been more enjoyable with some Vivaldi or Bach playing in the background. What was not very appealing was the blood spattered all over the place, and the dead corpses of two daemons slouched against the wall; they were perforated by a single bullet each, expertly placed between their eyes. It was a disgusting mess, and the scent of death hung in the air like a pervasive and unsettling dampness. Most would lose some of their sanity taking an elevator ride like this, but for Orion it was business as usual.
The middle-aged man stood casually in the center of the elevator, his stance relaxed and his eyes facing the exit. Those were the frigid eyes of a murderer and tactician, bereft of sympathy and glinting with the harsh edge of mercilessness. Orion's visage was calm, his equanimity untouched by the carnage around him. He was very much in control.
I am always in control.
To the right the control panel for the elevator continued to blink red, indicating each level it passed. Currently it was at level eighty, and rising fast. Its target was ninety-one, where Orion intended to disembark. It was on that level where he would have access to the tools he needed to set the final stage into motion. He also knew that his enemy would be waiting for him, intent on killing him the moment he arrived.
Such unrealistic hopes they have…
Orion could envision the elevator door opening to a firing line of daemons. In that scenario he would be torn apart by a fusillade of lasers, the elevator's box his undoing, a steel coffin for his ashes. But he was not worried, for he had anticipated this. There were ten elevators that led to level ninety-one, and Koboi had no idea which one he would take. As such, he had made sure that each of the elevators would activate at the same time, and head for the same level in unison. This would divide the defending forces between ten fronts, reducing their numbers and making their resistance feeble at best.
The control panel beeped as the elevator passed the ninetieth level. Ninety-one was next. Orion rolled his shoulders, his deadly expression unchanging, and spoke coldly.
"And so they tried to stop the great hunter. Lambs to the slaughter."
Orion threw off his Armani jacket in a swift and graceful motion, exposing his white dress shirt and solid black tie, and most importantly the two vertical shoulder holsters that had been concealed beneath the tailored suit. There were also a number of low-profile multi-magazine pouches secured to his belt, again concealable and easy to access. By the time his discarded suit jacket reached the floor, Orion had drawn both of his weapons. He eyed them approvingly.
The weapons were both exactly the same, custom made a week ago before he had fallen out with the human governments. Both had been acquired at the taxpayer's expense of course. They were two SIG-Sauer P226 handguns, each with an impenetrable black finish and polished Nitron stainless steel slides. Custom Rosewood grips with meticulously carved checkering offset the metal's darkness, adding a level of artistic beauty to the deadly implements. There were many other features that were for anything but aesthetics. These included a short reset trigger to allow for faster return during high-speed shooting, a customized recoil system, extended magazine catch, fiber optic fronts sights, and muzzle brake to reduce barrel climb. The handguns were chambered in the powerful .357 SIG cartridge, fed with extended twenty-round magazines, of which he had eighteen—three-hundred-and-sixty rounds overall.
Orion appreciated these tools. They were his favorite among the countless firearms he had used over the last few decades, and the fact that the Domovoi in his corresponding reality had taught him using this model made it personal—he was almost sentimental about them. Switching off the safeties and cocking the hammers on each one, the man aimed towards the door. He had already put earplugs in, and so now he was ready for what came next; for killing on a relentless scale. The last few seconds ticked by, and as they did Orion remembered something Domovoi had told him many years ago.
"You can always die. It's living that takes real courage."
Orion smiled a little. Quite true, old friend.
The elevator beeped again when level ninety-one was reached, and then there was a very sudden jolt as it stopped completely. The door shuddered, and then opened noiselessly, revealing the hallway beyond and the daemons that occupied it. Orion pulled both triggers with a cool gaze, unafraid. Shots boomed and fire flashed; shell casings pinged sharply on the metal floor; smoke laced with the air; heavy bodies slammed to the ground. So it began.
Level 72, Section 37
Being pinned down was not the most pleasant of situations; being pinned down while the fate of the world hung in the balance was absolutely vexatious. Artemis and the Butlers had traveled only a few sections until they encountered another large group of daemons, and these ones were much more organized. They had set up a heavy gun emplacement at the far end of the corridor, blocking their access to the lift system that would take them to level ninety-one. The gun in question was a very large laser cannon, and it was backed up by seventy daemons, all of which were hunkered down behind makeshift barricades constructed out of alloy plating. Artemis and the Butlers had no such assets, and it was absolutely insane even thinking of attacking the enemy head on.
A withering barrage of laser fire hammered into the area where they were hiding, tearing apart walls and bulkheads and sending melted metal spattering through the air. Fire and smoke exploded from the impacts, and the noise was horrendous. They were taking cover in an adjacent corridor that intersected with the one they needed to go down, so they were relatively out of the line of fire. But if they even peeked around the corner they were dead.
"I suggest we go around!" Butler yelled out, not even bothering to return fire.
Juliet nodded vigorously, covering her face as a fiery explosion erupted nearby. "I agree!"
Artemis on the other hand shook his head. "There is no other way. All of the other routes to the upper level have the same blockades; Opal Koboi does not want us to get any closer."
A few shots from the larger gun placement flew past them, turning several yards of the hallway into molten slag.
"We can't take them on like this!" Juliet yelled, for the first time desperate. "Think of something!"
"What do you think I have been doing?" Artemis replied, rubbing his temples and trying to find calm amidst the insanity. He had a few ideas, and all of them were dangerous if not insane. What he did not know at the time was that such ideas would not be necessary.
The enemy defensive line was situated at a crossroads. To each side of the heavy gun emplacement was a door, both shut and apparently sealed to prevent any other unwanted intrusions. The daemons, having successfully pinned down their prey, began to rise from behind their defenses and prepare to advance. Nothing opposed them, at least until ten seconds had passed.
There was a sudden explosion on the right side of the corridor, right in the midst of the defensive line. One of the doors beside the gun emplacement blew outwards, shattering into fragments and slicing into the defenders as if they were made of butter; larger chucks of metal slammed into the creatures and flattened them quite literally. The heavy laser cannon was hit by the shrapnel, and it was right in the middle of firing when this happened. The laser charge detonated inside the barrel of the cannon, resulting in another powerful explosion that rocked the corridor like an earthquake. Fire and smoke clogged the area, and as the daemons were thrown into chaos their greatest nightmare appeared.
"Get out of my way!"
Holly Short flew through the destruction, successfully body checking the nearest daemon to the floor while dual-wielding her neutrinos and shooting everything on sight. When Artemis and the Butlers heard the telltale sound of neutrino fire, they immediately made the connection.
"It's Holly!" Juliet exclaimed, grinning vivaciously despite the gravity of the situation.
Butler was already on the move, his rifle shouldered and ready. "Now's our chance. We will wipe these monsters out!"
As the bodyguards joined the fray, all Artemis could do was smile a little. Holly—that elf really knew how to make an entrance. He felt an immense tide of relief knowing that she was alive, but in the chaos of the battle he tried his best to keep a level head.
Butler and Juliet aimed around the corner at the disheveled daemons, striking them down while Holly did the same from the other direction. The firefight was short and brutal, ending after only fifteen seconds of merciless crossfire. It left dozens of daemons strewn all over the place, smoldering from being riddled with laser charges. With the enemy defeated and the way clear, Holly Short looked down the hall to where the Butlers were standing, and waved jovially.
"Sorry I'm late, I got stuck in traffic!" she called out, a ridiculous grin on her face.
Butler chuckled deeply, and Juliet laughed outright; humor found in the middle of a nightmare. The three of them met in the middle, ignoring the carnage around them in that moment of reunion.
"Glad you could join us," Butler said friendlily, smiling down at the elf.
"You thought I'd miss this party?"
The old man shook his head. Then Juliet intruded with her loud and convivial voice.
"That was badass!" she said, extended a fist towards her.
"I do my best," Holly replied, raising her fist.
The two of them fist-bumped—it was awesome.
After this momentary and friendly encounter, all three of them reverted back to their professional demeanors; there was still much work to be done. Holly wrinkled her nose without knowing—the smell of charred flesh was quite overbearing. She holstered her neutrinos and casually looked around, her eyes serious and a little worried.
"Where's Artemis?"
It turned out that the young man in question had been approaching for the last few seconds, just hidden behind the enormous mountain of Domovoi. Artemis appeared suddenly, a relief in his eyes and a smile on his face.
"Welcome back Holly," he said. "I was worried that you had done something suicidal to get Opal's attention."
Holly grinned mischievously. "You have no idea."
A rumble coursed through the vessel, louder and far more ominous than the others. It got all of their attention, snapping them out of the jovial moment and putting a halt to any further discussion on the matter. Like a signal it brought everything into motion again, bringing with it all of the requisite feelings of anxiety and determination. Artemis felt the tremor and frowned deeply, knowing exactly what it meant.
"This ship is almost through the exosphere. We have to get to level ninety-one. That is where Orion is."
Holly nodded. Gone was her smile and the friendly light in her eyes; it was replaced by the coldness of a professional soldier, hard as stone. It was unsettling, looking into those eyes, but Artemis was not concerned—their frigidness did not obfuscate the elf behind them, his best friend.
They all turned towards the way they had to go, where the elevator system waited to take them to the belly of the beast. With dozens of daemons strewn before them in spastic disorder, and acrid smoke curling its way to the ceiling, the path they had to follow appeared menacing, rife with trepidation. It did not deter any of them for a second. Walking down paths of nightmares was such a common trial now, and this one was not the worst.
"Alright," Holly growled, drawing her neutrinos again and powering them up with a click, "Let's get after those maniacs, Orion and Opal both. Let's bring them down."
"I second that," Juliet stated firmly. Butler nodded silently.
Holly didn't wait any longer to get going. With her weapons primed and ready, the elf walked through the carnage with an air of purposefulness. Smoke swirled around her, ghostly and befitting of her demeanor. Death was everywhere. A few fires simmered in the haze, leftovers from the explosions; their vermillion glow reflected in Holly's cold eyes, and in those of her comrades. Together they proceeded from this place, away from the ruin they had created and towards the looming duties they had to fulfill—fulfill or die trying.
Level 91, Central Access Corridor
Smoke curled through the air, bringing with it the pungent scent of propellant and charred material, all of which bespoke the creeping presence of death. Its grey tendrils, so fine and ephemeral, drifted from the barrels and open chambers of Orion's handguns, which were scorching hot from rapid and unceasing use. The man stood with the weapons at his sides, lowered and empty, and as the corridor took on a deathly silence he smoothly transitioned.
A press of the magazine release sent the empty magazines clattering to the metal floor, and they were quickly replaced by two loaded ones. With forty rounds at the ready, Orion pressed the slide catch on each weapon and let the slides snap forward, chambering the ammunition. He deposited the guns in his shoulder holsters, and with a cold expression turned around to face the hallway he had traversed through unbridled violence. Death was everywhere, present in the dozens of lifeless corpses and in the signs of battle. Scorch marks from laser rifles and holes from bullets abounded, and shell casings littered the floor, still radiating faint wisps of smoke. All of this had transpired in a matter of seconds; in but a few moments Orion had killed everything that stood in his way, leaving him victories and alone in the corridor. A door waited at its end, and he stood before it, but its passage was postponed. Looking impossibly calm, Orion walked back to the elevator, stepping over corpses and ignoring the terrible smell in the air. Blood was flecked all over his dress shirt, and a few places were scorched by the near-misses of laser fire. Despite this his complexion was clean and not even perspiring, and his hair was orderly. He ignored the stains on his clothes.
He reached the open elevator, knelt down, and picked up his discarded suit jacket. He put it on as he walked back to the far door, and after fixing his tie and cufflinks he begot a subtle, satisfied smile.
Far too easy. Shame about the shirt though.
The doorway loomed in front of him, closed and locked down. It would be almost impossible trying to get through the sealed barrier by force, but not for Orion; he was in control of the ship now, and that meant that all of its security measures were useless against him. With but a simple thought conveyed from his neural transmitter he unlocked the door, and it opened a second later.
The room beyond was a very significant place of interest, mainly because it contained the machinery that would enable the latter part of Orion's grand scheme. It was a relatively large space, a perfectly octagonal room with a width of a hundred meters. Nearly every inch was packed with the components of advanced technology, and all of it was centered on a large platform in the middle, which was raised above the floor and had an excessive amount of delicate technology on it. Orion studied it from the entrance, his eyes calculating. What he saw was the inner workings of the vessel's real purpose; the intricate design of the system that would put all of the stolen magic to use. Opal had made it so that she could activate it from her command room, but Orion had put a swift end to that. Only direct interaction would work now, and only Orion could actually use it. Koboi, even if she tried, would not be able to activate the system and harness its power. Now that Orion was the sole administrator of the vessel, that insane pixie could use none of it. Perhaps she could try and hack her way back into control, but she had not tried yet, and that told Orion that she was doing something else. It told him that she intended to kill him before doing anything else. It told him that this was her trap.
Orion surveyed the room with impassivity, and he eventually holstered his handguns; he wanted to appear unsuspecting. The room was dark, its lights unlit, and there were shadows within which any number of foes could obscure themselves. Given that there had been a small army of daemons in the corridor behind him, there was no reason to believe there would not be any in there as well. He took a few steps forward, certain that his nonchalance would infuriate his opponent. It certainly did.
A laser blast shot from the darkness ahead, careening towards him and lighting up the gloom with a sickly crimson. Orion dodged to the side, hitting the ground with a roll and coming up behind a piece of machinery. There he waited for a few seconds, noting how sloppy the shot had been, and then spoke chillingly.
"You could have at least aimed a bit better, Opal Koboi. Yet another chance I gave you to win, and yet again you waste it. It is no wonder why your criminal career has been nothing but a long list of debacles."
There was silence for a few seconds, but then, just as Orion had expected, the overhead lights burst to life. The illumination was accompanied by footfalls, their sound echoing from the center of the room where the platform was situated. A voice, saturated with a vociferous hatred, spoke out at the same time.
"Did I ever tell you how much I hate you, Fowl?"
Orion calmly replied. "All the time, explicitly and implicitly. You were always an open book."
"Shut up!" Opal Koboi screamed, her voice so filled with rage that it trembled. The pixie appeared on the platform, removing herself from the shadows. She had her blaster in hand, and murder in her insane eyes. Those frightening eyes were locked on where Orion was hiding, wishing death upon him.
"You are not going to defeat me this time!"
"That is hardly a statement of fact," Orion replied, mockingly placid.
It was very hard for Opal not to lose her self control, but she managed to hold on. She paused, letting herself calm down and focus on her task. She had to; there was no room for foolish mistakes so late in the game.
"You are hardly in a position of power," she said confidently, managing a smile. "I knew that you would come here. I knew all along. And because you were so predictable I was able to lay in waiting, a trap that you would walk right into." Her crooked smile grew, her teeth glinting in the light. "There is no escaping this one. I have you surrounded."
From behind every notable object in the room appeared daemons, all fully armed and itching to kill. They were noiseless, true predators, and their sudden appearance would have been a shock to anyone but Orion. The man did not care, even as more of the creatures entered through the various open doorways into the room. In a matter of twenty seconds there were several hundred of them, all with their weapons directed towards Orion. He only smiled a little, and then rose up from behind his cover. "What a predictable action on your part, Miss Koboi. You accuse me of that which you are far more guilty of. The pot calling the kettle black as always." He walked into the open, facing Opal with his hands at his sides. He made no move for his guns.
Koboi glared at him. "Says the one who just exposed himself," she retorted, aiming her blaster at him. She did not fire immediately, but instead grinned at him. "You're going to die now. Even if I miss, my subordinates will not."
Orion almost glared at her—that pixie's behavior was the locus classicus of erroneous villainy! He spoke with a voice that almost betrayed this disdain, and it was a dark, terrifying tone. "Do you really want those to be your famous last words?" He stared into her eyes with his icy gaze, and then he shifted his stance just a little.
Opal Koboi saw it coming this time; she knew that this man was about to do something. "Not this time!" she shrieked, holding down her weapon's trigger and sending a barrage of laser fire directly towards Orion. Despite her realization, however, she was still too late.
The room was suddenly filled with chaos as explosions erupted from various pieces of machinery. Electricity arced from the detonations alongside fire and smoke, killing every daemon within twenty feet and sending the others scrambling for cover. More than half of Opal's subordinates perished. All of this was a simple product of Orion remotely overloading a few circuits, and though it appeared damaging it actually left the systems he needed perfectly intact. With this planned bedlam sweeping the room, he dodged to the side, avoiding Opal's shots while simultaneously reaching into his coat for his SIG-Sauer handguns. He drew the weapons with a polished grace even amidst the noisy destruction, his form perfect regardless of the circumstance. Smoke and sparks danced in the air, and as this chaos swirled all around him he became Death incarnate.
All of the daemons in his immediate vicinity were dead in a matter of seconds, killed by the blasts or shot dead. Orion did not stop there; he moved through the madness, weapons aimed and blazing as he distributed death. The enemy had been thrown into disarray by his underhanded tactics, and now they were vulnerable. He capitalized on it with dreadful efficiency, holding his breath through the clouds of acrid smoke and ignoring its sting to his eyes.
Shots rang out in rapid succession, their flashes evident in the smoky haze. Daemons dropped dead all over the place, while others aimed and fired blindly into the gloom in hopes of striking their opponent. Opal Koboi remained on the platform, swearing vehemently while taking shots at wherever she saw the flash of Orion's guns. She never once hit him.
Such a neophyte! Orion thought as he moved through the battle, dodging enemy attacks while firing precisely into their heads or chests. All fell before him, dead or dying, and in his path he left a trail of blood, bodies, and hot shell casings.
After a minute the smoke began to clear, and by that time over two-thirds of the daemons were dead or dying. The remaining ones had reorganized themselves and were moving to engage, uncaring for their lives and only intent on following Opal's commands. They fired a withering barrage towards Orion as he dodged behind a series of support beams, and Opal joined the fray with her customized blaster.
"Kill him! Kill him a million times over!" she roared, firing away with an insidious look on her face.
Orion ducked behind another piece of cover as the enemy attacked, narrowly avoiding the deadly laser shots. There he unloaded his handguns with a professional composure, and inserted the second last pair of magazines he had left; eighty shots in total. It was more than enough. After reloading the weapons he burst into action once more, diving into the open while firing in mid-air. It was difficult aiming while pulling off such a stunt, but with the daemons all bunched together it did not matter. His bullets tore into them as he flew, killing a dozen before he touched the ground. When he did he rolled and was up on his feet almost instantly, moving as fast as he could.
Opal's aim had improved as a result of her hatred and rage, this time almost hitting him in the shoulder. The shot scorched his suit and left painful burns as it passed closely by, but Orion almost didn't notice. Instead of grunting with pain he dodged behind another machine and paused, making sure that the wound would not impede his arm. As he did this he could hear Opal's malevolent voice as she directed her underlings.
"Surround him again, and keep him pinned!"
Koboi hung back, remaining at a distance while her subordinates closed in. The daemons spread out and advanced, half on the move while the rest provided suppressive fire. This made it difficult for Orion to do anything but remain on the defensive, but he did not worry about it; he always found solutions. He waited for the enemy to close in, and when the first of them appeared around the corner he burst into action.
The daemon saw him coming, and aimed with its laser rifle. With swift motions Orion grabbed it by the arm and twisted it around, causing the creature to spray laser bolts into its comrades. At the same time he used the daemon as a shield, firing with one of his guns while using his other hand to keep the creature in his grasp. The others opened fire, uncaring for their comrade's life. Lasers tore into it, and from behind this meat shield Orion fired shot after shot into the enemy, killing several before having to abandon the strategy. He sprinted to the right, shooting simultaneously, and got behind another piece of cover, where he did not even pause for a second. With guns blazing he burst into the open again, this time using his momentum to slide across the smooth metal floor on his side. More daemons fell, and few took their place. Though he could not count exactly in the heat of the moment, he estimated that there were only eleven left.
Opal was starting to get worried. With so few of her subordinates left, and the others still a fair distance away from getting to the room, she had no choice but to go on the defensive. She had her remaining daemons pull back and take cover in positions around her, and she herself hunkered down behind the computer consoles on the platform. From there they took potshots at Orion, not daring to get close to him. Koboi growled as she fired, spiteful as ever. "Dammit! This is not good at all!"
Orion could hear her even from a distance, and it made him smile coldly. Finally, you said something correct for a change. He then checked his watch, and noted how much time had passed. He had to end this fight immediately. With seven shots left in one pistol and ten in the other, Orion waited patiently. It was easy enough to estimate where the remaining foes were situated, and he could tell when they were all exposed. He stood patiently behind his cover until he was certain they were all up and aiming towards him, and then he tightened his grip on his weapons. What he was about to do was beyond dangerous, but he was confident in his abilities.
The man burst into the open, just as the all of the enemy forces were aiming towards his general direction. His SIG-Sauers were raised, and as laser bolts careened all around him he opened fire, his cold eyes picking out every one of the daemons that were shooting at him. The shots rang out, their spent casings fell, and the screaming bullets tore into their targets. Orion walked on an angle, ignoring the laser bolts, and continued to fire with astounding accuracy. Every pull of the trigger killed a daemon, and thus in eleven pulls they were all dead—eleven pulls that took less than seven seconds. Only Opal Koboi remained, and she hid behind her cover with her blaster clutched tightly.
You underestimated him you idiot! Opal told herself, biting her lip until she drew blood. With her rage and fear taking hold, she made one last ditch effort to kill Orion. Orion did the same to her.
The two villains came into each other's view during an intense moment. Gun smoke swirled around Orion, making him appear even more sinister, and the corpses of the daemons were strewn all around him. This man, this angel of death, locked eyes with Opal as she rose up and aimed towards him, and simply raised his one of his pistols in response. Everything moved in slow motion, the gravity of the situation as palpable as the smoke that twisted in the air. Opal had Orion in her sights, and with crazed eyes and an evil snarl she pulled her trigger.
Die!
At the same time Orion exhaled slowly, and when Opal's shot careened towards him he sidestepped it effortlessly. Then he returned fire.
Opal Koboi ducked down as several bullets flew over her head and collided with the metal platform. She swore as a fragment sliced her cheek. As blood trickled down her face, the pixie's hateful eyes doubled their fire, and once again she aimed over towards Orion. However, when she did she paused abruptly, her eyes wide. Orion was gone.
Wait…where did he go!?
This thought occurred to her exactly when she heard a voice behind her.
"You left an opening, Miss Koboi."
Opal turned around, just in time to see Orion standing a few meters away, aiming directly at her. Everything slowed down for her in that fateful moment; slowed by absolute terror. She started to raise her blaster, but Orion was too fast. With his terrifying eyes locked on hers, the man pulled the trigger. A shot rang out, echoing in the gloom and reverberating off of the metal walls, and a smoking shell casing spun through the air. The bullet struck Opal square in the gut, and the sheer force of its impact sent her flying. Her eyes went wide with pain and horror as blood—her blood—scattered in the air, and she let go of her blaster involuntarily. She would have cursed, but her voice failed her, and so all she could manage was a pitiful gasp. After traveling ten feet she slammed into the metal floor and rolled off of the platform. She landed on her face, and she landed hard. Blood was everywhere.
Orion eyed her coldly, his pistol still aimed. Smoke rose from its barrel, and the single shell casing from the final shot rolled on the metal floor until it stopped against his left shoe. There was no sympathy in his eyes. "You made a terrible mistake Opal. You always do."
He heard a sudden noise to his right, and when he spun around he saw a daemon charge right into him. The creature was injured and had no weapon, but it was crazed and thirsting for blood. Its powerful fist slammed into Orion's face, snapping his head back and sending him sprawling. His pistols clattered to the floor, and the daemon was upon him before he could reach them. It drew a wicked knife and stabbed at him, its eyes burning with killing intent. Orion rolled to the side, and when another stab came he grabbed the creature's arm and kept it back. The razor-sharp blade stopped an inch from his forehead, and both of them struggled to control its movement. Orion grunted, angry at the creature for interrupting his work and even more angry at himself for missing it. Such a rookie mistake! But with the knife point creeping closer to his face, he could not wallow in such bitterness. This creature was stronger than he was, and so he had to act quickly and decisively.
The struggle over the knife lasted a little longer, and then Orion got an opening. With a grunt he sent a powerful kick into its right knee, shattering bone and cartilage. The daemon's leg broke, and as it lost its balance Orion swept its other leg out from under it. The daemon fell, and as it did Orion drew a knife of his own—a sleek, concealed stiletto—and plunged it into the creature's neck. He pulled it out and stabbed again, and again, and again, until blood had spattered all over his face and the creature had gone still. Such brutality flowed, and he had to stop himself from going further. It was hard, for in that moment of violence his deeper emotions and buried memories burst through into the forefront of his mind, sweeping him away in a tide of darkness. When he regained control he had since turned the creature's neck into pulp, and his hands were soaked in blood.
"Dammit…" he rasped, his breathing hard after the uncontrolled act of violence. Adrenaline was rushing through him, and his mind, so usually composed, had slipped just a little. It made him glower. "Even after all these years..." he whispered harshly, shaking his head. He soon got to his feet, wiping the knife clean with his suit jacket—there was blood all over it anyway. He did the same with his sullied hands, though it was impossible to get it all off. Then he walked over to his discarded pistols, picked them up, and aimed one at the dead daemon. He put a bullet in its head for good measure, despite the fact that its neck had a fifty-seven perforations in it.
With that business settled Orion glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings and making sure that there were no other daemons lurking in shadows. He kept his SIG-Suaers in hand, and after concluding that all of the daemons were dead he walked over to where Opal had fallen.
"Sorry for the hiatus on your demise, Miss Koboi," he said heartlessly, holstering one of the pistols and reloading the other. "Now, where were we—"
Orion stopped talking when he found that Opal was missing. Where she had fallen was a small pool of blood, and there was a trail leading from it. He followed the trail with his cold eyes, noting that it went all the way to one of the open exits. Opal Koboi had escaped, just barely, during the fight between Orion and the last daemon. He frowned a little, but concluded that it did not matter. Opal was mortally wounded, and she was simply running for her pitiful, depleting life. Even if she could heal herself, she was no threat unless she mustered more underlings. Orion eyed the trail of blood, and spoke coldly.
"Enjoy your slow and lonely death, Koboi. I offered you a merciful end."
The middle-aged genius stopped thinking about Opal entirely, turning his attention to the platform in the middle of the room. Time was fleeting, and this opportunity—the one he had been fighting to attain for so long—was at his fingertips. Once he took it, no one would be able to stand in his way, not even Artemis.
Artemis...
That younger version of himself was definitely coming to stop him, along with his friends. Orion had already impeded them as much as he could, sealing off doors and shutting down elevators, but he knew that the Fowl would find a way to circumvent his efforts. A Fowl always did. In a way he wanted Artemis to catch up time. He wanted to face him once more, on equal footing, and see who the greater mind was.
With so much at stake and even more at hand, Orion jumped up onto the platform and went to its center, where the control console was located. Now was the time, now was the hour, to begin the final stage. With a press of a button and a verification from his neural transmitter, Orion activated the device. The room shuddered, the lights flickered, and then the platform itself began to move. All of its consoles lit up and began working, and countless tons of machinery, most of it spread out throughout the vessel, began to warm up. What was this machinery? What was its purpose? It was all really straightforward, at least for Orion.
The massive warship was constructed around the five harvester beams that took up much of the space within, but those five beams were actually a secondary function to an even larger and more potent tool. This tool needed a veritable sea of magic to function optimally, and it would unlock so much more along with things beyond even the wildest of imaginations. Orion intended to use it now, to begin the last phase in his plan and open a door that had been closed to him for so long.
The platform shuddered as power began to flow through the countless wires and devices throughout the room, and it was not electrical power. It was magic. The room lit up with a soft blue light as this energy—stolen from so many innocent people—flowed into the base of the machine that dominated the center of the room. It made no sound, but the air tingled with its presence, and Orion smiled. He could feel its power on his skin, and envision what it was about to do for him.
Magic lit up the console before him, sparking in a certain spot that was designed to facilitate a transfer. As to what sort of transfer, it was the kind that so many ancient spells of the nefarious sort required. Orion calmly reached into his jacket and procured a clean knife, and holding his index finger over the console he slid its sharp edge across his skin. Blood was drawn instantly, and it dripped onto the magic that was barely contained by the console. Orion eyed it appreciatively.
"Bound by blood. Bound by spirit."
He pressed another button, and this time a tremendous shudder went through the ship. From outside one would be able to see the five harvesters on its bow begin to shift and change structure, turning into a single, unified weapon. It glowed with tremendous amounts of magic, and the space around it crackled with raw energy. Evidently it was charging up, bringing all of the magic that the ship held to bear for its final task.
Orion checked the readouts and ensured that there were no abnormalities. Then he pressed a button, and a holographic targeting interface materialized in front of him. It showed Earth in great detail, and he was not at all affected by seeing how much destruction he had brought to it. He didn't care. He was far more focused on locating the target he had in mind—the one place on the planet that would work. It was imprinted in his mind after hours of research and affirmation, and now he recited it smoothly in his mind.
34°47'16.9" north, 117°40'59.4" west…
It took him only a few seconds to pinpoint it, and when he did he entered the command codes and had the ship aim its main weapon directly towards its geographical location. When it was done Orion paused, eyeing his objective.
The location was directly east of Lancaster California, in the sparsely populated flatland of the Mojave Desert that stretched between the various mountain ranges in the region. It was hardly a desirable place to be, nor was it even populated enough to be useful for harvesting, but neither of these were what Orion had in mind. The real fact of the matter was that this geographic location, unbeknownst to anyone, was the one and only location where a concentrated magical burst could jump-start the opening of something that everyone thought to be destroyed. Beneath this location, many miles belowground, was where Opal Koboi had tried to attain godlike power a year ago, when she had been in control of dark magic. That place, dubbed simplistically as "The Gate" was an otherworldly portal that led to a realm of infinite possibilities, one that would grant anyone the ability to mold the universe to their liking.
Even other dimensions…Even time itself...Orion thought as he observed.
It was clear that Opal Koboi's plan had been to exploit it again, but that begged the question as to how that was possible. The Gate had been destroyed beyond all traces during the war, and furthermore buried under countless tons of bedrock. However, there were things that always transcended the material world, and thus were impervious to destruction. Orion knew from his understanding of magic that the portal was still there, dormant and existing in another plane entirely. All he had to do was unlock it, and do so with a spell that required more magic than anyone could ever possess. That was why he had let Opal kill millions of people, and that was why he had just bound himself to the magic with his own blood. There could only be one master to such a force, such was its nature, and he wanted it all.
This was the culmination of his work, albeit an impromptu one. His previous plan had been interrupted and ultimately ruined by the LEP, and back then he did not even have to contend with Artemis. Now was much different, and that meant that he had to be swift and merciless. There could be no failure, not now, not when he was so close! Be it Artemis, or the Butlers, or the LEP, Orion would not let them stop him.
With his target set and his intentions immovable, Orion put his hand over the fire control. Once it was started, it would take a force of equal or greater power to stop it, and even then it would be a longshot. This was his power play, and he was quite interested in seeing what his foes would do about it. Regardless of what they did, they would fail—they had to fail! With a serious expression Orion eyed the fire control, knowing the consequences and accepting them for what they were—complete and utter disregard for the lives of seven billion people, and an entire universe. It was a small price to pay when compared to what he sought to gain, and it was not like he was forfeiting his sacrosanct honor as a Fowl. He had lost such honor long ago, out of necessity. Fate had left him no choice but to become a monster.
Orion was silent for a few more seconds, and then, with a heartless expression, he pressed the button. That was precisely when the supposedly impenetrable door behind him exploded inward, sending smoke and fire bursting into the room.