Artemis was beginning to wonder how long he could scamper from roof-top to roof-top over what appeared to be the suburbs of this place. He was, as always it seemed, completely in the dark about his whereabouts. Artemis had a hunch though. He had a hunch and he hoped to god that he wasn’t right. The sulphur, the black sky and the people with black eyes all pointed towards one conclusion. This place could be Hell.
The machete he had picked up from purgatory was always in his hand and he was always on the lookout. He couldn’t sustain this though. He knew he couldn’t. Fatigue was dragging at his body, hunger was burning in his gut, and paranoia sent tremors though his body- infecting his mind. Artemis was unsure of what he was running from but was absolutely certain that he didn’t want to find out. He assumed had been in this place for days, he couldn’t tell due to the fact that the sky was always dark here, apart from those red sparks that shot across the sky.
No-one had approached him or given him a second look before he had arrived, but he saw how things happened here. He heard the screaming that sounded in the night that emanated from the larger buildings and from below the grates the street. He did his best to avoid thinking about that.
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Zaphkiel strode down the corridor to his office, which consisted of a small corner in the celestial library affectionately known as ‘the stacks’. He grabbed the paper he needed and headed for the door only to interrupted by Hael.
“Where are you going?” Hael hissed.
Zaphkiel looked both ways to make sure no-one was listening in, “I just had a meeting with” he lowered his voice even more, “Naomi.”
Hael tilted her head, “what?”
“Naomi,” Zaphkiel hissed.
Hael frowned, “I can’t hear what you’re saying, you’ve got to speak up.”
Zaphkiel raised his voice to an audible volume, “Naomi,” he enunciated.
Eyes widening, Hael asked, “Why?”
Zaphkiel leant in conspiratorially, “About the report. To do with the seal and Fowl. She’s sent me to meet with Nathanael about our findings.”
“I should go with you,” Hael said.
“No!” Zaphkiel barked, she was not stealing his moment. His volume had raised to the point other Angels were looking at him, he lowered his voice, “No. Naomi asked me to do it, she said only me,” he lied.
Hael tilted her head, “That should be fine… as long as you’ve read my report on the possible ramifications of the living human on the closing of the seals, he is referred to as the emissary, not sure why yet. I wrote a risk assessment of prophecy 4732 with prophecy 6668, you know, the one I gave you last year. If you haven’t, I should probably go.”
Oh, dear. Zaphkiel had not read that report, in fact he had spilt a coffee on it and had disposed of the evidence. He did not need to eat or drink but he found it to be pleasant. It had been the only copy of the report and he had told her he had given it to management, “Yes, I read the report, very interesting, I was impressed.” He lied. “I should go.” He made for the door and was gone in a flash. What harm could this possibly do? Every angel in heaven was convinced that their work was the most important thing in the universe.
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Nathanael restrained himself from shaking the angel in front of him till the moron got to the point.
Zaphkiel barrelled on, “What I am trying to say is that we believe there is a human in hell.”
Nathanael clenched his fist, “There are billions of humans in Hell, can you please be more specific.”
“Oh right, yes. A living human is in hell, and we believe he could be the emissary that is referred to in prophecies.”
At this Nathanael perked up, “Are you sure?”
Zaphkiel began to ramble, “Well, it’s not completely clear although a review of the evidence leads us to the conclusion that it is possible-”
Nathanael raised a hand silencing him, “Is there anything else I should know?”
“The human’s is named Artemis Fowl, here is a copy of his file.” Zaphkiel dropped the file as he shuffled though his papers and cursed, picking the file up and handing it to Nathanael. “We have no Idea how the Fowl boy got to Hell, which is the odd thing, it shouldn’t be possible...” Zaphkiel’s face was a mask of indecision and guilt. Zaphkiel’s answer continued confidently, “That’s it. Nothing else.”
Nathanael sighed, “Then why are you still here? Out.”
“Right, I’ll just… uh. Yes, goodbye.” Zaphkiel’s backed out of the office awkwardly.
Nathanael waited for that idiot Zaphkiel to leave his office. A smirk slithered its way onto his face, this would be… interesting. Nathanael picked up the phone and waited.
A young girl’s voice sounded from the other side, “Nathanael, to what do I owe the pleasure.”
Nathanael spoke, “Hello Lilith. How long has it been?”
“Since the fall? 600 million years perhaps. Now to business, why did you call?” Lilith said.
Nathanael grinned, “Don’t worry, it’s good news. We found the key; we believe he is right under your nose. Oh, and Naomi sends her love. She would also like me to tell you that we can only have so many screw-ups from your side before something serious is discovered.”
“I don’t know what she is so afraid of. Even if a few of our ranks find out, nothing will change, they will simply be eliminated.”
Nathanael sneered, “She is concerned for heaven’s reputation.”
“Of course she is. Now, this key, who is he, what do we need to know?”
Artemis risked a peak at the street below before ducking. There seemed to be increased military patrols in this area and, while he did believe in coincidence, he was wary.
“Ooooh, what are we hiding from?” said a playful voice over his left shoulder a hairs breadth from his ear.
Artemis yelped and backed away, still crouching, “Ah! Christ.”
The woman had brown hair, light skin, and an American accent. She stood up, “I would tell you have nothing to be scared but well, that would be a lie. We should probably get acquainted seeing as I’m going to be working with you for a while. I’m Meg, and you must be Artemis.” Her smile was all teeth. Meg clicked her fingers and handcuffs secured themselves around Artemis wrists causing him to drop his machete. Meg continued in a sing song voice “We had better get going, no time for dilly dallying.”
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Artemis struggled against his bonds and asked dazedly, “Who are you?”
Meg’s eyes flicked to onyx-black, “I am the world’s best intern.” And with that she pushed Artemis to his feet and led him down the stairs, “Oh and, if were you sweetheart, I wouldn’t try anything because I will hurt you if I have to. Or if I just feel like it.”
After a brief moment of shock Artemis unfroze, “You must have made a mistake, I’m not who you’re looking for. My name isn’t Artemis, it’s Alphonse.”
Meg snorted but did not stop, “Nice try, wonder-boy.”
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‘The pit’, as Meg referred to it was a snaking underground labyrinth filled with cells, out from which the sound of screaming escaped and the mood of despair streamed.
By the time they had reached their destination, a small crowd had gathered. One man crossed his arms and faced them, “What’s this Meg? Hoping that we wouldn’t hear you had brought him in?”
Meg sneered, “Yeah, I was actually hoping you hadn’t. You heard what the boss said, ‘finders keepers’. Alastair said, whichever intern catches him gets to assist. I caught him, so back off.”
At this, all hell broke loose. The interns began to yell in earnest with snippets of sentences the only thing audible, such as, ‘an actual living human’, ‘unfair’, and ‘I wanted this for my resume’.
A nasal voice broke through the chaos, “What is going on exactly?”
The crowd parted to reveal a lanky man with white eyes.
The interns looked anywhere but at the man. One brave soul piped up, “Sorry Alastair. We were just… discussing who should be allowed to assist with…”
“I see... Because none of you could follow the simple instructions I left you in regards to that, none of you will assist.”
A groan followed this announcement. Alastair waved his hand to silence them, “You may all have equal access if I am called away. Now, get the prisoner to his cell, lest he endure more of your completely unprofessional behaviour.” Alastair shot Artemis a spine-chilling grin, “See you later kiddo.”
The cell in question carved from volcanic rock and dark but for the floor which glowed with the heat of magma. Artemis was secured to a sort of upright rack, his hands and ankles secured by rusted cuffs, leaving him hanging from the vertical rack spread eagled. Meg turned to him, “Guess I’ll see you later wonder-boy.”
Artemis debated staying silent and then settled on, “That’s not going to be my nickname from now on, is it?”
Meg hummed, “I see what you mean, I’m not happy with it either. Tell you what, I’ll try to brainstorm a better one for the next time I see you.” She smiled, “Maybe it can be something to do with your accent, I love it. What is it, English?”
“I am just going to pretend that you didn’t say that” Artemis said.
Meg tilted her head, “Scottish?”
The withering stare Artemis shot Meg spoke for itself, “You cannot be serious.”
“Welsh?” Meg asked but this time she let her teasing smile inch its way onto her face.
“Oh, haha.” Artemis said dryly.
“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. I was debating whether to ask you if you English or British, I decided English would be more irritating.” Meg snorted
Artemis weighed up his options, “Why am I here Meg?”
Shrugging, Meg answered, “Because Alastair wanted you to be brought here.”
“And why is that?”
“Beats me.” Meg said
Artemis took a breath, “What’s going to happen to me?”
“You’re probably going to horribly tortured until you become a demon,” Meg said.
“A demon?” Artemis asked curiously.
Meg’s eyes flicked black, “Like us.”
It took a moment for Artemis to process what he had been told, “I… can’t say I like the sound of that.”
“Join the club kid.” Meg said as she walked away. The Heavy metal door shut with a clang, and he was left alone.
He contemplated what Meg had said. The people here called themselves demons, but they were derived from humans. He was sure that the demons here differed greatly from the demons on Hybras. Alastair was obviously very important, so why had he sent for Artemis? How had Alastair known that Artemis would be here?
He stayed like that for a while, hanging on the rack, thoughts chasing themselves in spirals before the weariness in his bones overpowered the fear he felt. The world faded to black and then morphed into dreams of being chased through a forest.
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Artemis blearily jolted out of sleep when he heard it.
A gleeful voice in particularly nasal tones, “Rise and shine” Alastair sauntered into the room, a spring in his step.
Artemis groaned, His wrists and ankles were soar from the strain of holding his entire weight and from the tight metal cuffs biting into them. His back ached and his throat was dry and scratchy.
Alastair approached, his eyes of pure white the focus of Artemis of attention. That quickly changed when Artemis spotted the knife held casually in Alistair’s grip.
Alastair’s face was a landscape of manic delight, “we’ve got work to do.” He raised a hand to touch Artemis’ face.
Artemis flinched at the contact, “Don’t touch me.”
Taking no notice, Alastair ran his hand from Artemis’ face to his neck, “You know- It’s always the first thing to go. Pride. The shame stays but pride… pride just melts away.” Alastair’s hand slipped down from Artemis’ neck, slowly straying down to his waist. “I must confess… I like to do this bit myself.”
Ice filled Artemis’ veins at the implication, he wasn’t clueless, he knew what Alastair was alluding to. For once, Artemis did not have a witty rebuttal or a snarky comment.
The ragged blue blazer Artemis wore was tossed to the side as Alastair brought his knife to Artemis’ collarbone then sliced the knife through the fabric and skin all down Artemis side. The sharp bite of the blade caused Artemis to yelp. Artemis’ already torn suit fell off him, losing all structural integrity. His shoes, socks and boxers were next to go. Once the final article of clothing had fallen to the floor the entire pile disappeared into clouds of dust.
Artemis eyed the deep cut that ran from his shoulder to his knee sucked in a pained breath. Artemis couldn’t look at Alastair as he felt eyes sweeping ever him. Tremors shook his hands, his heart thumped and sweat clung to his palms.
Alastair’s tone was light and conversational, “You must be hungry.”
Artemis nodded mutely; he was. It had been a week since he had a meal, a day since he had drunk a drop of water. His throat was dry and scratchy, His stomach had ceased to ache and instead a numb nausea infused his limbs.
A pleasant smile twisted Alastair’s feature’s, “I’ll go fetch something for you.” Alastair walked out of the cell leaving the door the creak shut.
Artemis was developing whiplash from how fast Alastair was changing pace, it was catching him off guard. He was sure now- this was all a power play, the veiled threats, stripping him, and the shifts in behaviour. Alastair was showing his power over Artemis, showing that he could chose to do anything he pleased to Artemis. A simple but effective form of intimidation. Knowing this provided Artemis with little comfort, he had no doubt Alastair would have no reservations about carrying out any of his threats. Artemis’ breathing still came in panicked puffs, and he worked hard to compose himself.
Alastair re-emerged with a steaming plate of food in one hand and bottle of water in the other. Artemis’ stomach let loose a rebellious growl which elicited an amused hum form Alastair. Resuming his staring contest with the floor, Artemis’ cheeks flushed.
With a click of his fingers, a chair materialised beside Alastair and the demon took a seat, his eyes flicking from pure white to a normal brown, “Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself properly. They call me Alastair, master of the pit, demonic chief of staff.”
Artemis’ eyes flickered around the room, “I figured.”
“Clever boy. Now it’s your turn.” Alastair said.
“You already know who I am,” said Artemis.
Alastair placed the plate and water on the floor and sat back in his seat, “Indulge me.”
Silence. Artemis glared at Alastair but did not dare voice his discontent. What game was Alastair playing?
Alastair had a strange meandering way of speaking that lent him gravitas, “Your parents, didn’t they ever teach you manners? You’ve always got to exchange… pleasantries before eating.”
Artemis could almost hear Butler’s voice then, ‘Play along Artemis, do not antagonise him.’ Artemis tried his best to sound confident, “Artemis Fowl, the second.”
“Do you want the cuffs to come off?” Alastair asked.
Artemis considered nodding but then dismissed the thought, “Yes.”
Alastair tutted, “You really do have poor manors.”
Jaw tightening, Artemis kept his voice steady, “Please.” The cuffs encircling his wrists sprang open instantly, sending Artemis sprawling to the ground. The red-hot volcanic rock burnt his hands and knees on contact, leaving angry red burns. A blinding shock of pain let the world outside this overwhelming agony simply slip away. His cries of pain tailed off into pained gasps. When he stood his bare feet were left blistered and singed. Artemis’ vision cleared.
Alastair sat looking at him with interest. “What do you say?” Alastair asked.
Artemis’ mind was blank for a moment before it clicked, “Thank you.”
Alastair beamed, “Good boy.”
Humiliation trickled down Artemis’ spine. Still, there was nothing he could do.
“Do you want to eat?” asked Alastair.
“Yes… please.” Artemis said, understanding what Alastair wanted.
Alastair handed over the bottle and plate.
“Thank you” Artemis said, his cheeks burning with shame and his eyes averted.
Alastair ruffled his hair, “You’re welcome. I’m impressed, you’re learning quickly.” He stood and with a click of his fingers, the chair vanished. “I’ll leave you to your meal.” Alastair walked toward the door and said “Behave” over his shoulder. The door creaked as it opened and shut, leaving Artemis alone.