damned_institute | Day 28: Morris Park

"Mm," Artemis didn't seem all that phased. "But I didn't find out--I was told." He grinned at his own joke. "I'll watch my back though, if that will make you feel better."

The boy smiled weakly, his eyes clearly tired, "Please don't tell me that you're worried about me as well. We've only just met..."

"So was Sakura, and Ouka before Farfarello shot her." Ken gave Artemis a flat look.

"Actually, yes I am. You said it yourself. You can't fight. And that is a serious problem here. Not all the patients are willing to leave a non-fighter alone, and certainly none of the monsters or staff are."

"I do hope you're going to be learning from someone, especially if you're going to keep insisting on throwing yourself into fights. Because if you don't know how to do something actually helpful, you're getting in the way of those who can."

Logic. Good. Logic was good. Artemis perked up. "Agreed. I am constantly in the way of those who are actually able to defend themselves. Fortunately, this situation is going to be rectified tonight--"

Artemis was unsure of how to phrase the next part. It was clear that Ken and Farfarello were far from chummy, so was it really in his best interest to tell Ken who his teacher was? So he should lie. Or just not say anything at all. Silence was good.

"--by--" His mind still wasn't processing things fast enough. If Larry had given him a concussion, once Artemis had escaped he'd return to Doyleton and sue the young drug addict. His sentence stopped short. He had to put something in there--anything. "--someone."

Ouch.

Ken stared at Artemis. That...wasn't a good sign. The stuttering really did nothing to make Ken feel better.

"...don't tell me. It's Farfarello. Isn't it?"

And for the record, 'far from chummy' was yet another understatement. Artemis was on a roll tonight!

"I can neither confirm nor deny that statement," He said with a smirk. "Confidential. Everyone who finds out ends up running into monsters."

"...you realize, learning how to avoid being hurt from someone who can't feel pain is kind of counterproductive. And he's a brawler. You're not suited to that."

Ken frowned. "There's ways to defend yourself that don't involve brute strength. You don't have that, and that's probably what Farfarello will try to teach you. You don't need to fight. There's plenty of people around that can do that. The most important thing you can do is get yourself out of danger without injury so you can do what you do best. There's nothing wrong with specialization."

"Yes, yes, and I understand that being taught something where pain is inevitable, by a sadist, is a very, very stupid thing to do," Artemis waved the objections away. "What everyone else doesn't seem to understand is that I do not have a choice in the matter. Farfarello is coming for me at the beginning of the night whether I will it or no.

"Besides," he continued, "I cannot stand idly by and watch other people fight for me--as though I deserve their fealty--because I don't. And I'm tired of being reprimanded for trying to help. I'm ashamed to say I'm desperate."

"By a sadist who is a professional assassin, kills people for shits and giggles, and is a close-range brawler. Beyond the style not even being suited to you, if you get fucking killed by the person who's supposed to be teaching you? It'd be a fucking waste for one."

Ken sighed. "Honestly? If the situation was a bit more ideal, you'd be better off ranged. You don't need strength to work a crossbow, or hell, even a gun. For the type of shit he'll be trying to teach you, you need to be fast, strong, and fucking lucky."

Artemis sighed, a small, annoyed growl in his throat, "Are you even listening? He's coming for me--he's insisting he teaches me. Insisting. It would be even worse if I tried to run, yes?"

The boy leaned back against the tree. He was obviously troubled. Yes, he'd understood the risks of the situation, but staying the way he was wasn't an option. The fastest way to learn how to fight for a bucket of water was to light your pants on fire. If Artemis was constantly afraid of screwing up in front of Farfarello, he wouldn't screw up. He'd learn faster from an unforgiving teacher than one who would hold his hand.

"What do you suggest I do, then? Throw myself down a flight of stairs?"

Ken sighed. "Yeah, it probably would." He knew that Farfarello would fixate on Artemis if he did that. "Like running from a bear."

But he still wasn't happy about it. "Sink or swim is not always the best way to learn." Contrary to Artemis's thought--if he was constantly afraid of screwing up in front of Farfarello, he could possibly pick up on that fear, or be so nervous that he would screw up.

"No, I'm suggesting you learn a way to defend yourself that's suited to you, and find someone that can teach you it. Fuck. I'd teach you myself."

Artemis laughed, "Right. That would make you the..." He thought a moment, "Seventh person to offer. But would you follow through?" He gave Ken a wry smile. All of them, except for Farfarello, have refused or fallen through. So which seems to be the better offer here?

"And you never know--he could be teaching me something pertinent to my size and strength capabilities. Whatever it is, I'm only spending the first hour of the night with him. An hour is better than the whole night, correct?"

He was trying to be encouraging--he really was. Ken was a nice person, but Artemis was getting tired of defending his decisions. He was an intelligent person--he knew what he was doing. It wasn't as though he'd taken the offer without fully understanding the possibilities.

"I like teaching," Ken said simply. "You can take it from there, right?"

"Okay, again, I'm biased. Have the guy pretty much cave your head in, then try and tell me otherwise." Ken had been in the hospital for weeks after that encounter.

Ken, on the other hand, was fully aware of the fact that Farfarello was not the most predictable of people. That was one of the things that made him so hard to fight.

"Oh, really?" Artemis smiled, "What do you like to teach?"

He didn't touch the comments on Farfarello--he was getting tired of the same things being said to him. He didn't know how to fight, he didn't have clue one concerning combat technique, he had no survival instinct. He heard the same thing over and over again. If he had to fight with one more person about this same subject, he was going to explode. He could feel it. His earlier emotional outburst had left him tired and his head cloudy. He wasn't thinking as sharply as he could normally. His tact was being stripped down slowly...

"Whatever I'm good at. Usually soccer. I don't often let on that I kill people for a living, so fighting usually doesn't come up. You're a bit older than the age group I usually coach, but at least...there's no young kids here." Ken would never be able to leave them alone. He'd want to protect them all the time.

"Ah, sports. I never was a sports type of person. I spent most of my time studying or reading," He smiled. "But you're probably a very good coach. It takes a certain type of person to deal with small children--I don't know if I could handle it. I have trouble dealing with most adults."

He laughed, remembering his frustration when dealing with Jon Spiro, then winced when his ribs protested. He'd been left in pretty bad shape.

"I never went to high school. I was scouted out for J-League while I was still in junior high. That's Japan's professional soccer league, or one of them at least. I went to play instead of taking high school entrance exams."

Ken flopped backwards onto the ground, for all appearances boneless and completely relaxed. "Who knows, you might be great at getting along with kids. They're very different from adults, anyway." He turned his head, noticing the wince. "...I'm not good enough with field aid to tell if anything's cracked. The nurse's would probably give you shit that fogged your head if you went to them."

He didn't need to know field aid...he wasn't exactly irreplaceable within the organization, and it had just never been taught to him.

"Technically I go to high school. But most of the professors won't teach me. Or they'll never call on me in class. So I don't go most of the time." He smirked, "My mother calls the school and excuses me." The tone Artemis used seemed to suggest that it wasn't his mother calling at all.

"I'll be fine. Nothing some pain killers won't fix. Nothing feels broken--just bruised," He smiled, "Fortunately, I'm medically trained--somewhat." He poked and prodded his torso in several places. "Mm, nothing's broken.

"And I think I may lose my patience easily with children. I expect people to figure things out on their own, so teaching has never been one of my career choices."

"Then your professors are stupid bastards," Ken pointed out bluntly. "Maybe you should go higher level. Once we get out of here." Like hell the nurses would believe that Artemis was able to take college-level courses.

"The pain killers usually have a side effect of drowsiness. Not a good thing if you're going to be learning how to fight. I've been refusing to take whatever shit they give me. I hate being drugged." Enough that he was more willing to deal with the pain than the side-effects.

"You have to balance it. Kids won't feel like they've accomplished anything unless they can figure it out on their own, and if you hold their hand all the way they'll learn shit-all anyway. Set the framework, let them figure it out, be there to be a guide if they have questions, not do it for them." Ken smiled then. "That, and it's a chance to drop the adult attitude."

Artemis was about to say something about how his mother wanted him to at least experience what it was like to be a normal high school student, but it only brought back memories of what he'd told Renji earlier. Stuffing the urge to start crying again back down, he coughed and shrugged. "I should, but I don't think even a graduate university would be able to hold my interest. I've written most of the texts used in the majority of psychology departments. It would be a waste of time to take a class centered around something I wrote myself." He smiled at Ken, "Don't you think so?"

"I suppose..." The boy said, frowning, "But why on earth would I want to act like I'm a child when I'm not?"

"Who says you have to take that? Do something else, then. Something you enjoy doing." Ken shrugged slightly. "There's enough people stuck doing shit they don't like in the world. You have the chance to not be one of them."

"Because it's fun?" It would be a very sad day indeed when an assassin who was ten years older than Artemis knew how to have more fun than him.

But Artemis enjoyed what he did... there just weren't any classes he could take that would teach him the borderline-illegal things that he did. Oh well. "I like painting. Maybe I could produce a few of my own works, instead of forging others."

The concept of doing something that he actually wanted to do was foreign to Artemis. He'd been raised to believe that what he did for the Fowl family was both what he liked to do and what he did best. There was nothing else he could do. Was there anything that didn't involve his work that he liked to do? Maybe chess.

He frowned, obviously confused, "Why is it fun...?"

Instead of forging others. Right. Ken looked at Artemis and smiled slightly. "Yeah, it's more just...you that way. I'm not a painter, but finishing a flower arrangement that I thought of and did on my own...it's satisfying. It might not sell or anything, but it's relaxing and I feel like I accomplished something." He had just admitted to arranging flowers. And enjoying it.

"Fun is fun. Running around and screaming and just making an ass of yourself...and not caring. Not worrying about anything, not plotting anything, not having to think about everything all the time...it's just relaxing." Ken shrugged. It was like him being more pissed off that he couldn't play soccer while injured than actually being injured. "I guess it's something I can't really describe."

"Mm," Artemis nodded, "When I finished the C Cube--my own micro-computer with advanced technology--I was very satisfied with myself. Perhaps doing more things like that would be... fun. And maybe relaxing, since it's for myself instead of a client or plan."

The boy listened to Ken explain his idea of fun, and he nodded as though he understood. He didn't really get it though. "Well, in that case, I think it would be fun to just lay in the grass and stare up at the sky. And not worry..." His smile fell slowly. "About anything. Not think about anything." He paused in thought. "Do you think that's actually possible?"

"It is for me, but thinking isn't my strong point." Ken grinned. "My brain's default setting is 'off.'"

He paused to look at the sky, then pointed at one cloud. "That one looks like an airplane."

...here he was, initiating a game of cloud-gazing with a boy that was smarter than a good number of college professors, at a field trip from an asylum that turned into hell on Earth at night. Ken had known his life was fucking crazy, but this was high on the list of weird shit he'd done, once he thought about it.

Artemis nodded, "747 Boeing." Perhaps he was missing the point of the game... But he seemed perfectly happy to look up at the sky and play Ink Blots.

"The one over there," Artemis pointed, "Looks like a cell in mitosis." He frowned, "Or a kidney."

Day 28: Morris Park

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)