Artemis Fowl and the Rise of Angels, Chapter 14
The ride was silent and maddening. The Lear Jet's upgraded engine didn't even provide enough white noise for Juliet to sleep. It reminded her of her training with Madame Ko, when the trainees were made to stay in a room of absolute silence. To most of the trainees, it seemed like heaven, until they got in there. One at a time they walked in, and one at a time, whether it took twenty, thirty, or forty minutes, they all slowly went insane.
Your brain doesn't like absolute silence, it's used to some white noise being filtered through it at all times. Enough time without any sound, and your brain will start to make sounds for you to hear. Sometimes, it will make things for you to see to go along with the things you hear that aren't there. You will hallucinate. This is a fact that lead to an odd maxim being repeated around the academy that year: silence corrupts, and absolute silence corrupts absolutely.
Right now, Juliet would have welcomed the hallucinations, if only to give her something to do.
Usually, pre-op, Juliet wouldn't notice the boredom. Her adrenaline would be up, focus sharpened, she would be mentally block out anything around her, except the mission at hand. Usually, however, did not consist of a ten-hour flight to Brazil from Dublin. She remained focused and cued up for the first hour in a half, while Artemis and Marcus played chess. Around hour two, she started to lose focus, and Marcus got bored of losing. He sparred with Constantine for a little bit, in a Wing-Chung form that required both participants to stand still while their arms intertwined and struck at each other at blinding speed in an attempt to land a blow. By the fourth hour, though, everybody but her and her brother were asleep, and nobody even had the common courtesy to snore.
“The quiet is maddening, isn't it?” Butler asked suddenly, quiet enough not to wake the passengers.
“Huh?” Juliet wasn't paying attention.
“This calm before the storm, I always thought it was the worst part of an operation. During the action you're adrenaline is up, blood coursing through your veins. You don't even have time to think, you just act on instinct on training. But these long flights, when you have time to reflect on the fact that you might not be on the flight home – those really great on the nerves.”
Juliet didn't know how to respond – she had never heard her brother speak like this before an operation. Even before she lived the life, when they were just brother and sister, he never was one to talk about feelings and philosophy. He wasn't an “Oprah” kinda guy.
Though Juliet was surprised how he suddenly started pontificating, she was more surprised by what he said next.
“I think I'm going to retire after this.”
“What?” Juliet found her voice.
“This is my last op, Juliet. I don't want to do it anymore.”
Juliet jumped up from her seat next to him. Standing, she was at eye-level with him. “What do you mean you don't want to do it anymore? You can't just quit! You're the best there is!”
Butler smiled at his fiery sister. “Jules, I've died twice, been mauled by a troll twice, I've blown up four times, shot seven, and stabbed and cut more times than I can remember. I've killed, too, countless, nameless men who were under trained, unprofessional, or just unlucky.” He looked at Constantine, who was lolling in his sleep, mouth agape. “I wanna be around for the people I love – you, Artemis, Holly, and the baby.”
He stretched his massive arms. “After this, you can call me Uncle Dom.”
Juliet couldn't believe her ears. Uncle Dom? Her brother? A civilian? “What about Artemis' security?”
“Oh I'll still consult from time to time, update the Manor's systems every now and then, but I'm retiring from active duty”
Juliet couldn't believe it, her brother, Butler, a civilian. It just didn't seem possible. The end of an era, something you always knew was coming, but could never fathom cause it never seemed real in the first place.
“Maybe I'll start gardening.” Butler mused to himself. Juliet's eyes widened, before she saw the glint in his eye, the cock-eyed grin. He was joking! Butler never joked. As the realization of everything hit her, set back down. Everything was going to be different, wasn't it?
She shook her head. No. Everything was already different, it had been changing ever since Artemis got his memory back. Things had become tamer, less adventures, less death threats. It all happened so smoothly, so naturally, she hadn't even noticed. The presence of the odd adventure, the world-saving scheme here and there had helped fill the lull, and now it was all quieting down. Juliet wasn't sure she disliked it either.
She looked around at the cabins inhabitants, Artemis sleeping gracefully, with a concerned look on his face – even in his sleep he never stopped thinking. Marcus' head, in contrast to Artemis, lolled on his shoulders, his mouth hanging open in a dumb gape. Constantine looked peaceful. Lines of worry had been drained from his face, but he didn't smile. He seemed perfectly enraptured in whatever dream his subconscious was enveloped in.
A movement caught Juliet's eye, and she looked down – the forefinger on his right hand was twitching, like he was pulling an invisible trigger.
Constantine approached the compound, clad in black body armor decades ahead of anything anyone had at the time. He had a massive revolver in each hand, one nickel-plated, and the other was iron-black. A soldier jumped out from behind a truck, in a blink of an eye Constantine swung up his left hand and a flash and a bang mowed the nameless man down. Constantine's face showed no remorse for this, yet know shout or sound of pleasure escaped him either. Death was not something he took pleasure in, it was strictly business.
Several more soldiers streamed out of the compound and various barracks and bunkers around it until the air resonated with the sound of gunfire. Constantine dispatched each one in an efficient manner, and eight more fell before they could fire their rifles. The next three actually managed to fire at him, but his reflexes, trained in The Pit and honed over almost half a century of war, were faster than his opponents aim, and not a bullet grazed him.
The air seemed to be exploding around him, and it sounded like a war was happening around various other parts of the compound – his friends were kicking up quite a ruckus.
He lifted the revolver in his right hand and fired at another soldier who seemed to be shaking in his boots. The gun clicked. The magazine was empty.
Constantine saw the realization in the man's head, that he might have a chance to succeed where his comrades had failed, to avenge their deaths. The Angel shook his head at him, not in pleading, but in warning. His warning was not headed, however, and as soon as the soldier raised his gun, his head exploded in a mess of blood and gray-matter and a disgusting squelch.
Constantine lowered his head to stop the blood and gore from getting in his eyes, then looked up to the mountain, a little over a mile away, where he knew Bane lay prone with a sniper rifle longer than him. He raised his gun to his forehead. And a puff of mound of earth and clay kicked up at his feet. Constantine swore and raised his middle finger in Bane's general direction. Reliable? Yes. Insane? Probably.
His keen hearing picked up the sound of someone loading a machine gun in the Bunker behind him, and without a thought he ducked behind a concrete barrier as .48 caliber rounds filled the airspace where he just was at 800 rounds per minute.
“Any time now, Bane.” He muttered to himself as he was showered with concrete filings from where the bullets impacted behind him, but the flow never stopped.
He rolled his eyes. Bane probably had his feelings hurt by Constantine's gesture, and was being obstinate.
“Shit!” He shouted as a large piece of concrete fell on his shoulder. He had to move. He glanced around the barrier and saw a burned out truck with fat tires. He leaped out from behind the crumbling concrete and bounded for the truck, diving behind it to safety, the bullets always two steps behind.
He reloaded his revolvers with practiced movements, and turned the corner of the truck to fire back, only to see the Korean behind the gun slump backwards, a red flower blooming on his chest.
Constantine dropped his arms to the side,exasperated. “Now he decides to fire.” He glared at the mountainside.
The air around him was quiet now, all the sounds of war had died. All except a low rumbling that seemed to be coming closer.
With much ado, a Jeep loaded with five men screamed into the clearing in front of the compound.
“Yo! Porcupine!” Marcus called from the back of the Jeep. “What took you so long?”
Constantine smiled. “Me? I'm the one waiting for you assholes!”
Severus grinned at him. “Man, you should have seen it when these guys saw his sword, they went nuts. One guy even charged him with a katana.”
Constantine laughed. “Did you cut a girder in half again?”
Marcus looked up to his right, scratching his neck, as if trying to remember. “Nah. Was a car.”
Constantine snorted. “Geezus, man.”
“Yeah, that's why we're stuck with this heap” Said Ryan, a tall, thin man with glasses.
“Cool it Gizmo, you got all the tech you need back home” Boomed out a deep bass behind him. Tank was a giant African, who's real name was something so obscure and so rarely used that the other Angels could barely remember it.
“Still, tank, it woulda been nice to leave here in style.”
“Ryan, you wouldn't know style if it walked up and hit you on the tush with it's naughty parts.” said a large Russian with blonde, slicked-back hair: Ivan the Five.
“At least I don't walk around in red and white striped shirts all day, Berserker.”
Ivan grinned. “That's exactly what I meant.”
“How's Bane, Conny?” Severus asked, cutting off the argument.
“The same as always: insulted.” Constantine said. “Everyone ready?”
The Angels loaded their various weapons with metallic clicking sounds. Severus walked to the front of the group, stood next to his brother, and smiled. “Lock and load, boys.” Tank kicked down the front door.
The group fought bitterly and mercilessly. There were seven of them, versus 70 more soldiers. One had to feel sorry for the soldiers.
The Angels reached the top floor where their target was located, and, supposedly, where he would be surrounded by the best bodyguards. The hallway at the top of the stairs was empty, save for a few mines which Gizmo quickly dismantled. At the end of the hallway were two heavy, steel double doors. The Angels lined up in two lines, Constantine and Severus at the front. The brothers put their shoulders to the doors, and waited for the signal from behind, which came in the form of a tap on the shoulder. They busted through.
As soon as he was through the door, Constantine felt a shotgun blast explode in the steel over his head.
“Oh shit!” he shouted as he ducked and rolled to the nearest corner, pulling his revolvers out of the holsters on the way. He leveled them at the attackers, and noticed equally-sized weapons leveled right back at him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his entire team lined up next to him, no one firing, with their weapons up. A stalemate.
“Hey, hey, these ones are good.” Tank said, grinning.
There was a moment of silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Wait!” Severus shouted in Korean, putting his weapon to his side.
“Hey, Severus, whatcha doin?” Marcus muttered. His sword wasn't of much use in this situation, so he kept the handle up above his head, the tip pointed down, hiding almost his entire body behind the wide blade. He held a pistol in his left hand.
“Trust me on this one.” He muttered back. Then, to the bodyguards he said, “Let's avoid unnecessary bloodshed. You're best fighter versus ours, hand to hand combat, first one unable to move loses. Loser's team leaves.”
There was a moment of silence as the Korean men considered his deal. “How do we know you won't just shoot us as soon as we drop our guards?”
“Damn, these ones are smarter than most.”
“Shut up, Be'rk.” Constantine thought for a moment. “The same way we know you won't! We can either sit here staring at each other till someone falls asleep, or trust each other in this. It's best for the group.”
The Koreans thought about it for a minute, none daring to look at each other, till one particularly tall one at the head of the group put his gun down. “I'll fight.” He said.
Constantine nodded. “Put your guns down, boys.” he said, as he holstered his own revolvers, and dropped his belt to the floor. He walked towards the center of the floor.
“Who died and made you Major?”
“Your mother, Giz.” He looked back at the Angels. “Don't worry about it, just sit back and relax.”
“Shit, I'm up for that,” Tank said as he slumped down into a corner. “This is gonna be over quick anyway.”
“Try not to kill him.” Severus told Constantine.
“Yeah, but you know what it's like, stepping on an ant.” Constantine said, turning to face his opponent. Severus shook his head behind him.
Constantine would have replied, but he was facing his opponent already. This was a cold fight, neither one knew either about the other, but the Korean, having the size disadvantage, would probably try strike first.
There it was. He thrown a kick, which Constantine parried with his left arm as he returned with a straight right, but the Korean blocked it, so Constantine threw up his left knee to put some distance between them. The bodyguard turned using his extended leg as a pivot and moved behind Constantine, who managed to turn his high knee into a rear donkey kick, which connected low on the Korean's left arm. Constantine felt it snap. Without letting up, he turned and threw two quick jabs at the man's left side, where he couldn't defend. Before he could fall, Constantine grabbed him by the neck. He was now standing straight up with the praetorian at his right side, suspended by Conny's hand with his feet on the ground, but his knees bent at ninety-degree angles. After a breath, Constantine flipped on the spot, letting go of the Korean's neck halfway through the movement, the dropping his knee down on the man's chest before he hit the ground.
The entire fight took a little over twelve seconds.
As the bodyguard lay on the ground, coughing up blood, his comrades stared at Constantine, who recognized the look they gave him.
“No, NO!” He threw his hands up to stop them, but it was to late. They had raised their guns at him, and were quickly mowed down by his own comrades in a hail of gunfire.
“Dumb Motherfucks!” Constantine shouted.
“Sorry, man, we had to do it.” Marcus said. The barrel of his pistol was smoking.
“Shit, I know. It's just...”
Severus put his hand on Constantine's shoulder. “I know man, I know.”
“What should we do with this one?” Ivan asked, indicating to the fallen fighter with his gun.
“Leave him, I didn't hit him that hard, he should recover soon.” Constantine walked over to him, and kneeled by his face. “If you ever want revenge, for what happened here, I'll be waiting.”
He stood up and rejoined the Angels. Marcus and Severus said nothing.
“Geez, you're not getting soft on us, are ya?” Gizmo slapped him on the back. “Eh, Constantine? Constantine?..”
“Constantine?” Present day. Constantine awoke to what appeared to be a giant blonde fly staring down at him. He blinked a couple times and the fly came into focus. It was Juliet, waking him up. They were on a plane, the engines were off. They must be in Brazil. Oh right.
“Right.” He shook his head, clearing the distant memory from his head, and stood up. He stretched and cracked several vertebrae in his back with a harsh, popping sound. He grabbed his coat from the seat next to him, where his revolver was stashed, and made his way through the plane, following Juliet down the stairs and out onto the runway, where Artemis and Butler were waiting for him.
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