Disclaimer: The People and Mud Men belong to Eoin Colfer and almost everyone mentioned in this chapter belongs to my deranged mind. I would say you can steal them with permission, but nobody ever does.
Author's Note: This chapter is all about the fairies. Yah, for those that like them and sux for those that don't. This has taken the place of Camembert and Calcium Carbonate as the second chapter because these things had to happen soon. Sorry if that makes it a tad confusing.
Huge thanks go to Ivycreeper, Moonwolf, Wierdo, Kitty Rainbow and CyberGhostface for reviewing the last chapter. And Ghostface, I was going to review one of your stories before but then you said that and so I decided not to. I probably will anyway but… And special thanks to Big Friendly Walrus who had such insightful reviews until he was taken off FF.net - taking two of my reviews with him.
Warning: A violent and angsty scene below. The reason I've changed the rating to PG-13, just to be safe. There is also mention of a homosexual relationship but this is just life and I didn't so much as have them kiss. And it does have a purpose in later chapters.
Chapter Two
Colour honour orange
SON: What is a traitor?
LADY MACDUFF: Why, one that swears and lies.
SON: And be all traitors, that do so?
- MACBETH Act 4; Scene 2; line 46-48
Artemis Florists were having a decisively bad year when the part owner, by name of Cypress Lake, gave in to his impulses and started working for the Anti-Atlantis Association. The florist had been one of the leading stores in the underground until the fateful day when the LEP were out smarted by a Mud Boy by name of Artemis. Cypress and his partner, Willow Wattle, had been considering changing the name to Persephone to help deal with the bad publicity but the cost of re-registering with the Haven Biochemist Guild was too expensive on their waning budget. They only sales they were getting were bridal and funeral bouquets and the flowers needed in the naming rites for a newborn.
And it was with this hanging over his head that Cypress accepted when an 'Associative' approached him to be the group's biochemist.
Unfortunately for him, he was not aware of the Associations ambitions and the methods they intended to invoke to achieve these outcomes. Most people would be quite curious as to why a terrorist organisation would require the skills of a flora biochemist - especially a group such as the Anti-Atlantis Association. If Cypress had asked himself these questions at the time, things would have been a lot better off for him. He may have even survived his 78th birthday.
* * * * *
The Anti-Atlantis Association is hailed as the most unsuccessful terrorist group to have ever existed. Most of its members are fat, red-necked fairies from the outlying provinces who didn't so much protest to the Atlantean Communist government structure as envy the way it works so well. These types of people resent the good and gentle life that the Atlantean's live and are petty in their terrorism and cause. They were ridiculed and shrugged off until the time when one sprite rose through the ranks of the Association until his power was felt by almost everyone. Quentin Thyme was far more ambitious than any Associative that had come before him. He had plans for bringing the Atlantean's back down to where they belonged and he would be ruthless in his methods to eventuate these ideals.
He craved revenge and power over others. He wished that everyone else would be aware of his ideals and be so terrified that they would become something they had never wished to be in an effort to please him. That was power. It wasn't as if he wanted to take over the world or anything. He just wanted it to work to his wishes. Ruling the world would be a lot of wasted effort to gain a heap of paperwork. But to control the world… That was something to look forward to. He was ruthless and efficient in coming out on top of any argument. So much so that anyone who had ever been close enough to shake his hand shook in their boots at the very mention of his name. They knew what it was to fear someone completely. His closest Associatives fear a glare more than they fear their own deaths. That was real power.
Quentin was obsessed with the power of fear ever since he had seen a fairy whose terror of falling was so great that he had stayed inside a burning building rather than jump from the 5th floor window. Most had shook their heads and sighed over the loss, wondering what on earth could have compelled the fairy to stay inside and burn. But Quentin knew. The fairy had had such a fear of heights that he would rather die than face up to this fear. It was rather romantic in an idiotic way. The idiocy lying in how he feared something so much that he couldn't think and the romance in the absolute control. People would live a horrid life, not pushing past any boundaries, because of their fear of the unknown. Quentin saw this and dreamed of harnessing that fear, making it work for his own gain.
And so he surreptitiously joined the Anti-Atlantis Association as his façade and powerbase. But he had plans that spread further than the petty revenge on people with good and simple lives. He wanted them to be the first to fear him completely. So that they would all know his name and fear it when spoken. He wanted to have the power to make people stay inside to die rather than face him alone. That was something more real than life.
* * * * *
Quintin swaggered into the 158th general meeting of the Anti-Atlantis Association. His presence immediately cowed his advisers – Basil Rune, Jason Palm and Billi Frond (Corporal Frond's elder brother) - who had been having a 'spirited negotiation' until Quentin's entrance cut them short. Quentin gave a short smile of the type that you might see on a shark, and immediately took control of the situation. The three Associatives fled to their seats, which were arranged in a semi-circle around a chair that was only slightly more ostentatious than the others. Quentin could have had a throne but he believed in the power of a person rather than the power of a position. Anyone could be chairman of a company but only a certain type of person would be able to run it flawlessly.
The advisers cast some furtive looks at each other but did not dare to do anything more as Quentin sat and carefully folded his wings against the back of the seat. When he looked up all the eyes were focused on the floor in an effort to not have to meet the eyes of the tyrant. And tyrannical dictator he was, because a leader lets others have opinions and voice them. A leader relies on the input and ideas of those beneath him but a tyrant just considers the person in their entirety beneath him. Quentin has absolute control over anyone who had ever crossed his path - within the Association or outside. The members treated him as such - regretting their connection with an organisation that has quickly become fatally serious and talking blasphemy about Thyme behind his wings.
It had become war very quickly once Quentin gained command of the A-A Associatives. He was known to quote from the books and events of the Mud Men as examples of cruelty to follow. Kill as many innocents as possible. Strike when the enemy in unprepared and vulnerable. Make then fear to speak your name. Be the BoogieMan. Frighten into submission. Don't back down. Don't be lenient. Don't care about anything other than the cause.
It was enough to make even the sturdiest fairy shudder.
"We are in for a treat today, boys." Said Quentin. His tone insulting but nobody would dare to challenge him. "Would somebody care to open the door."
Basil, Jason and Billi looked at each other nervously for the split second before the first knock was heard at the door. It was a small and timid knock, probably made by a very nervous and sweaty hand, and the thick oak of the door muffled the sound further. The three of them jumped to their feet and hurried to the door - Jason taking hold of one handle and Billi the other while Basil stood in the middle holding an electric lantern. The knock sounded again, sounding even shakier than before, if such a thing was even possible. Basil looked to Quentin for conformation, ready to count in Billi and Jason but saw the slightest turn of the wrist and curve of his thin lips. Basil beaconed to Billi to sit back down and Jason was left holding the door handle until a third half-hearted knock was heard. The lights were dimmed and the chairs cast in shadow when Jason slowly swung the door forwards.
"Um … hello?" said a voice that was almost as shy as the knocking had been. The speaker was a young elf who had a Cypress wood bangle encircling his wrist and long red hair flopping over his face in a pudding haircut.
"Hello, Lake. I take it you have the … special merchandise. We would really dislike if you were to ask for another extension. This project should not have taken as long as it has. We are rather disappointed in your efforts. We have had to delay our other engagements because of your incompetence."
Basil Rune wondered briefly if Quentin always talked in the Royal "We". It would explain quite a lot of things and he was sure that, like himself, none of the other Associatives were particularly eager for this projects operation.
"Of course I do. But it will take more work to provide you and your men with the immunity you have asked for. It is quite a difficult task; it's not like this was covered in my flora biology course. Sometimes time is the only answer."
"Show it to me."
Quentin was excited if he was dropping his imperious speech, not that he needed it for total control.
Cypress' hand shook as he reached into his bag and pulled out a sealed wooden case of vials. Half the vials containing a bright orange liquid and the others appearing empty but in fact holding a clear gas. "The gas is the base product. Hold it in a contained space made of a metal - any metal has the same effect - and add a drop or two of the orange. The explosion should be enough to spread the product 10 klicks and any fairy within that radius will be effected if they haven't had the immunisation. Being closer to the epicentre will speed up the effects, so if the person detonating has not had the immunisation they will most probably … die … within 20 minutes." Cypress' voice was quite monotonic and steady until he got to the word 'die' when it cracked and he had to hold back an uncontrolled sob.
"Tell me, how old are you Lake?"
"Um … 77"
"Ahh, 77. What a wonderful age to be. I'm 79 myself. Your birthday?"
"Um … tomorrow, Sir."
"Today, since it's 9 past midnight. Won't you have something special happening on your birthday. These are the antidotes, yes?" Quentin had risen gracefully from his seat and was pointing towards the pale brown vials on the other side of the case. Lying alongside was a packet of injecting needles.
"Yes, Sir" said Cypress, relieved to be back on normal conversation. "It has to be injected into the bloodstream within 30 minutes of being exposed to the virus but this is also effected by how close the person was to the blast and also the particulars of the victim's body. It is still quite reliable, though. Very hard to create the formula but it works in all my simulations, which are based on every conceivable situation. I'm quite proud of how it turned out."
"You should be more proud of the virus than the antidote."
"Nature can create a virus, but only some can create a cure."
"You still have not given this a practical test have you?" He said, twirling a brown vial between his fingers.
"Um … no. But that shouldn't be necessary, it works properly. If I could just leave now, I'll get working on the immunity right away. Wouldn't want to waste valuable Associative time when I could be helping. I'll just see myself out shall I? I wouldn't want to impose on any more of your time, Mr Thyme. Ha. That was funny, wasn't it? I really - "
"I really think you should stay. Is it true that if you inject the orange formula straight into the body - in a higher dose of course - it has the same effect as being caught in an explosion?"
Cypress made an effort to shake his head but this was almost unnoticeable because of the shakes that wrecked his entire elvish body.
"I think that would be a valid test, don't you? We've got to cover all possible hypothesis."
The box of vials had dropped out of Cypress' hands because of his fear and he could only stare in disbelief as Quentin stooped to pick up a needle and a container of orange. He sucked the contents into the needle and gripped Cypress by the arm. This was only the first time Quentin had touched him, but he had been so frozen in fear that it was as if he had been holding him in a death grip from the moment he had walked into the room.
Cypress' eyes misted over as the orange virus was injected into his system.
* * * * *
Quentin smoothed his clothes down and returned to his seat. After twenty minutes of watching Cypress writhe in pain on the floor, he became slightly bored and walked out of the room without looking back.
* * * * *
Basil leapt to his feet and peered around the door to make sure Quentin was really gone. When nothing had happened in a minute he breathed out and nodded to Billi and Jason. They both rushed to kneel by Cypress' side and just as Billi was about to reach out and turn him over, Basil caught the poised hand. He shook his head and pulled his jacket off. Covering his hands in the fabric he carefully reached out and rolled the elf onto his back. His eyelids were fluttering in semi-consciousness and his breathing was fast and shallow. Purple welts were appearing beneath his eyes and at the corners of his lips but these were overshadowed by the horrendous yellow shade his face had turned.
Basil made some small movements with his hand and Jason stood and carefully pulled a brown vial from the wreckage of the wooden box. Billi retrieved a needle from the packet that had been thrown across the floor and roughly handed it to Basil while looking away because there were tears of pain and grief welling in his eyes. Basil filled the needle and quickly injected it into Cypress' arm about 3 inches above the orange virus injection.
Cypress' eyes burst open as the needle penetrated his arm and although they couldn't focus he could see the shapes of the fairies above him. He sighed as the pain that had been filling his body lessened slightly and he was filled with an airy peace. The breath was let out slowly and he could almost see the colours on the face that was hovering above him.
"Will you be alright? Do you know what will happen?" asked one of the hovering blurs.
Cypress made an effort to shrug his shoulders but the movement brought the pain back and his eyes bulged as his body made furious involuntary movements. It subsided again and he looked up into the smudged face of Basil.
"Can't his magic heal him?" asked another voice off to the side.
"No, Billi. The virus is especially designed to be immune to a fairy's magic. Even if we gave him our own magic it wouldn't help. If the antidote doesn't work, he will die."
Cypress struggled to move his head and then settled for trying to move his lips. "But… the immunity … why? … I'm … only-" his voice was so weak that if a breeze had blown through the room his words would have been lost to the air.
"I don't kn… Why would Quentin try to kill you when you're the only one who can make the immunisation? Is that it?" Cypress moved his chin slightly in a nod. "He wants us to die."
"But…"
"He wants us to be martyrs for the cause. Like the Mud Men who strap bombs to their body and die to take out a few of the enemy. No one is worth anything to him. He didn't even save his father from a building when it was burning down and he was watching it. I'm sorry for this happening to you. I'm sorry for even knowing you Cy."
Cypress gave a small smile and shook his head at Basil. He opened his convulsing mouth but couldn't move it enough to say the words he wanted to.
"Cy, tell me. Is there any way that we could destroy the virus? Quentin doesn't have the formula and so if we get rid of these vials he wouldn't be able to use it. He's planning to send this into a shuttle station in peak-hour. In a holiday time so that entire families will die. He wants to be known all over the underground. We can't let him do that."
"I… pleas-" Cypress stopped trying to make his mouth move the way it should and stuck his arm out towards Basil.
"Oh, no. I'm not going to do that to you Cy! There's another way, isn't there? We'll find some other way to get rid of it."
Cypress shook his head slowly. "We can't … let … please."
Tears streaking down his face, Basil nodded. He picked up the orange vials and a new needle. He extracted the liquid slowly while tears blurred his vision and Cypress watched his face - memorising everything about him. Basil, forgetting about not touching him, picked up Cypress' left arm and slowly pushed the contents of three orange vials into his body. Cypress half yelled out and his breathing became harsh and shallow, but he managed to open his eyes again and nodded. Basil took the next needle, which Jason had filled, and chose a spot on Cypress' upper arm to inject. When the poison was absorbed by his body his hips and shoulders moved off the ground in an effort to push away from the virus invading his system. His eyes could barely open to nod for the final injection. Basil took it reverently from Jason and softly smoothed over a patch of Cypress' right arm. He bit his lip to stop a sob escaping as he rested the point of the needle on the exposed skin. Cypress looked up with tears of pain in his eyes.
"Love you, Bas." he choked.
And Basil slowly pushed the needle tip into the flesh.
Cypress' body spasmed one more time before his eyes closed and his mouth hung open, unmoving. His skin was a sickly blue-yellow and the purple welts had covered most of the flesh around his eyes, nose and mouth. Basil lightly brushed his hand across his face and slowly smoothed the red pudding hair back as he lay him on the floor. He bent to give a small kiss to the crown of his head and whispered "I love you too."
A tear fell to the floor as Jason pulled Billi away from the body - to give their friend some peace.
Strange thing in this chap is the name 'Cypress Lake'. Cypress Lakes is a health retreat/resort company in the Hunter Valley, Australia. They are actually going bankrupt and are trying to sell before their patrons catch on. And 158 is my favourite number. Hopefully Princess Karita won't flame me for having a gay couple, even though life states that 1 out of 5 are homosexual or bisexual