“That’s nice,” said the human boy. “I’ll tell him when I see him.”
“Ehm,” said Turnball, puzzled; then the boy who looked like
Artemis Fowl jabbed Turnball in the gut with stiffened fingers.
“Butler showed Artemis that one a thousand times,” said the boy.
“He didn’t listen, but I did.”
Turnball wanted to say something, but he was winded, and even if
he hadn’t been, he had no idea what he would have said.
“For I am not Artemis Fowl, villainous elf,” said Orion, twisting the
gun from Turnball’s fingers. “I am the young romantic who always
knew his day would come, so I listened to Butler and I am ready.”
Turnball got enough breath back for one word. “How?”
“Artemis knew he had to escape the power of the rune, which
controlled his mind but not mine, so he goaded your cretinous minion
into shocking him, which released me.”
Turnball clasped his stomach. Of course. Atlantis stage two. He
rested both elbows on his knees and rasped at Holly. “Kill him. Kill the
boy.”
Orion pivoted and aimed the gun at Holly. “Please, sweet maiden.
Do not force my hand, for I will strike for the good of all.”
Holly threw No1 aside and ran full tilt, side to side.
“Artemis could never shoot,” she snarled.
Orion squared his shoulders and extended his hands, supporting his
right hand with his left. Both Artemis and Orion were ambidextrous,
but, unlike Artemis, Orion favored his right hand. He remembered
what Butler had said time and time again: Sight along your arm.
Breathe out and squeeze.
The first pellet caught Holly on the cheek, the second on the
forehead, and the third on the shoulder, which took a second to
penetrate. Holly’s speed took her halfway up the curved wall before
her body gave out, and she slid back down on her face.
Orion turned to Turnball, who was sneaking up on him.
“Be still, foul demon.”

- The Atlantis Complex, Chapter 9