Well, here we go. This is going to be a fun romp. For this retelling, I don't plan on rewriting the books scene by scene, but I do plan on covering the entire series. Keep me posted on whether or not I am making this too similar to the books. I would hate for you all to feel bored. I am currently lacking a consistent beta, so all mistakes are my own. I will try to make posts on this one about once a week, but because my life is a little crazy right now (recent graduate looking for a job and all that) I make no guarantees. And everyone who has previous experience on my posting record is ready to burn my alive, so we all know how good I am at keeping to a schedule. (backs away with a nervous laugh)
Speaking of my other works, Techno is on hiatus until I figure out what the heck I am going to do with it. It started as a one-shot, and mutated before I really had an idea where I wanted it to go. My plan is to contemplate this until the answer arrives. As for Fullmetal Thunder... (laughs hysterically until the author dies). Anyways, I hope you enjoy this new story!
Shout-out to ObeliskX, who got me out of my post-novel writing cave by requesting this. This one is for you!
When Artemis Fowl the Second came into the world, her father felt nothing but disappointment. A daughter. A daughter could never take over the family business.
At the age of four, Artemis had already set herself out to prove him wrong.
Later, Angelina would always remark that Artemis had been a quiet child. She never smiled, but her wide blue eyes took the world in with greedy sweeps. She didn't cry. She didn't fuss. Then one day, she simply crawled over to a chair, hoisted herself to her feet, and began to walk with nothing but the slightest wobble in her step. It set the tone for the rest of her achievements in life.
Her father doted on her with every fiber of his being, with Artemis liked briefly for its usefulness but quickly grew to despise. At the age of four, Artemis knew many things. She knew her father brought men to the house, rough men with violence and guile in their eyes. She knew she was young and female. Time would cure one, but not the other.
She knew her mother would cry at night alone and behind closed doors. Artemis would stand in the corridor in her night gown, feeling both embarrassment at her mother's weakness and the itching desire to use her small body to soothe her mother's wounds. But Fowls did not crawl into their mother's arms. Fowls did not touch. It was a weakness she could little afford. So, Artemis would simply stand outside the door, unable to move forward or away, until Angelina's sobs petered out and released her to trod wearily to bed.
One day when she was six, Artemis took a break from completing her secondary school courses (under an assumed name, of course) to wander downstairs. Butler was a constant and massive shadow at her side, dogging her footsteps as she was accustomed to him doing. Two men were standing in front of her father's office, clearly waiting to speak with the syndicate boss. Artemis could hear a muffled voice coming from inside and assumed her father was taking a phone call, his own Butler standing guard loyally at his side. The thick carpet muffled the sound of her penny loafers, making a noiseless ghost as she moved with a grace that belied her age. Artemis looked side-along at the two men as she passed, her blue eyes cool, and said to them in passing, "I wouldn't, if I were you." Artemis's voice was high and young, a fact she cursed daily, but it was still chill enough to give the two men pause. The shorter of the pair took two steps forward, dropping to one knee to lower himself to Artemis's height. The young girl gave a small huff of irritation. She did exactly want to stop for a prolonged chat. Reluctantly, she paused and turned her body the minimum needed to face the kneeling man.
"Now what do you mean by that, little girl?" the man asked in a pleasant, friendly tone. Artemis scoffed. Everything about the man was ostentatiously repulsive, from the white tuxedo to the flashy golden stud embedded in his right ear lobe. He smiled at her, a tight-lipped affair that went nowhere near his eyes.
Artemis looked up at the man haughtily, wishing she had the height to look down at him instead. "I would not cross my father if I were you," she said coolly, her high voice portraying nothing but boredom.
The man blinked, caught out in a moment of surprise, but recovered well. He said, with a politely puzzled laugh, "I don't know what you're talking about. You're a strange kid, saying such things."
Artemis didn't even bother faking a smile. She just gave him an impetuous stare and said, "It is not strange. Now strange at all when you look at your travel records over the past three months." Artemis's eyes never left the man's. "Beijing. Hong Kong. Dubai. You are playing a risky game, dealing from both sides of the table. But I'll tell you why you miscalculated." With every word that fell from Artemis's pink lips, the man's smile slowly faded, transforming into something uglier.
"Oh yeah?" he asked meanly, his teeth bared in a threatening grin. "And why is that, girl?"
Artemis smiled back at him, every inch an innocent angel, and leaned in closer. "You should fear my father more," she whispered, a nasty smirk briefly breaking free from her false innocence. "Because if he finds out about this, he will end you."
The man lurched forward, clearly losing control of his anger, but Butler was there in an instant, checking the man's swing with a hand the size of a baseball mitt. "That would also be unwise," Butler rumbled, then let go. The man in the suit grimaced as if in pain, rubbing the spot where Butler had grabbed him. He slowly rose to his feet, glowering at them both as he did so. Butler stood directly behind Artemis, the kitten dwarfed by a mountain. The man's eyes darted between the two of them, shark-like and calculating, before he recovered his smile. Ignoring Butler's warning glare, he reached down and put a hand on Artemis's minuscule shoulder.
Leaning in, he said lowly through his poisonous smile, "What the hell do you know? You're just a kid. Pretty little girls who wear dresses have no business messing around with things they don't understand. Go back to playing with dolls or whatever the hell it is you do." He squeezed her shoulder once, hard and claw-like, before straightening and turning towards the door once more. "Real men are doing business here."
Artemis blinked, taken aback. She had never been spoken to like this before. It left heated words on the tip of her tongue and a strange feeling in her small chest. She wanted to say something in reply, to show this man how clever she was, how wrong and ignorant and stupid his words were. Artemis did none of these things. Instead, Butler placed a gentle hand on her back and guided her to walk down the hall once more.
Artemis spent most of the trip looking at her own feet, mind spinning with too many thoughts to track. Sensing her need for privacy and space, Butler led her back to her room, guiding her gently through the maze of corridors that made Fowl Manor. Finally, as the door to her sanctum came into view, Butler broke the silence, saying carefully, "That was unwise, young Mistress. I know you are smart, very smart, but deliberately antagonizing an enemy is never a good idea. Not without a purpose for it, at least," he amended after a moment of thought. Artemis continued to train her gaze on her penny loafers, silent and still.
Finally, after a long minute of Butler patiently waiting at her side, Artemis finally said, "Thank you, Butler. I will keep that in mind." Looking up, she opened her door and stepped inside, saying without looking back, "That will be all for now." As the door clicked closed behind her, Butler let out something between a chuckle and an exasperated sigh, moving to stand guard at the door while the young Mistress worked. He could already tell his charge was going to be more than a handful. Thank goodness he kept his head shaved. That way he would be spared the indignity of watching the grey hairs pop up along his scalp.
Inside, Artemis crossed the floor with quick, determined steps. She stopped in front of her full-length mirror, staring hard at her own reflection. There was a short, pale girl there, eyes already shadowed from long nights. Artemis was often frustrated with her body's need for sleep, as it severely limited the amount of time she could spend absorbing knowledge. Hopefully, that would soon begin to change.
Her light blue dress was ruffled, and she smoothed a careful hand over the folds. Is this what people saw? A tiny girl with big eyes and raven hair? Below the roundness of youth, her face had an angular shape that predicted high cheek bones after puberty. Eyes narrowed, she probed the shape of her jaw and dragged careful fingers through her long dark tresses. Artemis's hair swung loose and straight to her waist, curling gently at the very ends where the weight wasn't there to make it tame. It made for a pretty picture, Artemis could admit that, but is that what she wanted to be? Did she really want to be nothing more than a pretty picture, the china doll that was dressed and mannered to make up for the man she should have been?
Walking over to her desk, Artemis studied the various scientific instruments littering the top, a chemistry set and microscope swallowed by her growing mass of computer parts. So far, she liked machines the best. They were easier to understand that the messiness of organics, bound and structured around finite rules. Living things, people especially, were much harder to decipher. Rummaging through the contents, she found what she was looking for. The scalpel, used for making slides out of once-living material, was razor sharp. It glinted in the light from the window as she walked back to the mirror, staring down her own eyes with dispassionate detachment. Then, carefully, methodically, she fisted a bunch of her hair and cut through it with the mercilessness of an executioner's sword. Black strands rained down, falling like dark snow, but Artemis paid it no heed. She had a goal in mind, and once a Fowl made up their mind, there was no hesitating on the path they had chosen.
After five minutes of brutal strokes, the deed was done, and Artemis was left standing in a circle of carnage. Narrowing her ice blue eyes, she turned her head this way and that, viewing the results. It looked atrocious, she concluded, but that didn't matter. A hair dresser could always be procured to neaten her shoddy work. The end result was all that mattered.
Shaking her head to dislodge any loose strands of hair, Artemis padded softly to her dresser. With great care, she slipped her penny loafers from her feet and tucked them neatly inside. Next came her dress, pulled unceremoniously over her head and folded neatly atop her shoes. The chill was unpleasant, forcing her to move quickly, rummaging along the back of her voluminous dresser until she laid hands on her prize. A single pair of tiny suit pants and a white dress shirt were pulled from the depths, clasped triumphantly in her hands like a victory. Artemis dressed quickly, smoothing her hands experimentally over the new fabric when she was finished. It felt different, Artemis concluded, but not necessarily bad. Walking sedately back to the mirror, she looked at the new, drastically different reflection. A wave of pleasure washed through Artemis, and she smiled genuinely, quite pleased with her efforts.
She was not satisfied with the life of a china doll.
That night ended with rage on the part of Artemis Senior and tears from Angelina, both shocked and aghast at Artemis's drastic transformation. Through the storm of emotion, little Artemis was a serene boat in a choppy sea, confident and unshakable in her choice. She would not be underestimated. She absolutely refused to be looked down upon by what she considered to be a mere accident of birth. One day, Artemis Fowl the Second would take over her father's empire and lead them to heights that they had never imagined. She would see to that.
Soon after, her parents stopped buying her dresses entirely.
Later in life Jon Spiro would forget this day, the day he had met a little girl with eyes of ice. But Artemis never forgot. It was a mistake Spiro would curse himself roundly for.
What as there to say about Captain Holly Short that hadn't already been said?
Commander Root considered this as he chewed on the cap of his pen, sitting at his desk and wishing desperately for a smoke. He hated doing these d'arviting quarterly evaluations. The whole blasted thing could be summed up in one question. Do you think this person is good enough to be on your task force? Yes, obviously, otherwise he would have booted them to the curb before this dratted evaluation came up. Less paperwork was always the better route, thought Root with a snort, uncapping his pen and bending over the paper with an annoyed sigh. He squinted at the first question, ignoring the niggling thought in the back of his mind that he might need glasses soon. Glasses were for old fairies, and Julius Root still had some life in him yet.
In bold Gnomish, the first question read as follows: What are the best qualities and skills possessed by the above officer? Root laughed deep from his belly, and from outside the office he heard the sound of someone startling, dropping their mug with a clatter. It was probably Wilkins. That guy was a problem, thought Root darkly as he began to put pen to the paper. He was going to have lots to say about Wilkins. That officer needed to grow a spine. Gods only knew how he had hung on this long. Wilkins was one bad mission away from a nervous breakdown, and everyone knew it. Shaking his head, Root finished his sentence and leaned back with a sigh.
Holly Short was one of the best damn pilots Root had ever seen, and this was including himself back in his cadet days. Short seemed to delight in shattering everyone's old flight records. That boy reveled in any chance to fly, thought Root in amusement. Short was also good in a crisis, thought well on his feet, and was decently proficient in hand-to-hand. Overall, Short was a fine officer, one Root thought he could polish into an exceptional one. There was great potential there, hindered by only a few major flaws.
Bending back over the paper, Root addressed the next question: What are some of this officers flaws and weaknesses? Scowling, Root scrawled out his answer, keeping the pen cap in his mouth so he could grind his teeth against it. Short had the infuriating habit of disobeying orders if he thought he saw a better way. Most of the time, it worked. However… Root stared into emptiness, not seeing the paper in front of his own eyes as he considered the possibilities. The LEPD officers needed to work as a team. Lone wolves often got themselves hurt, or got others around them hurt. That's why discipline was so important, why the chain of command must be iron. Those in the midst of battle wouldn't always be capable of seeing the bigger picture. That's what Commanders were for. Short needed to d'arviting respect that. Otherwise, thought Root with a sense of growing disquiet, the day might soon come where Holly Short's inability to follow orders would cost lives. Rubbing a rough hand across his face, Julius shoved himself back from his desk in a violent motion, splintering the pen cap between his molars. Now he really wanted a cigar. Maybe he would go yell at Wilkins instead, thought Root with satisfaction. Might take the edge off.
As he stalked away, his ruddy face growing beet red in preparation to vent some steam at an unsuspecting Wilkins, the review paper fluttered slightly on the Commander's desk. It lay next to another report, a mission brief on a rogue troll in Italy. Tacked to it was a picture of Officer Holly Short, auburn hair short, nutty complexion mixing well with the hazel of his eyes. He was standing at parade rest and looking with determination at the camera. His mouth was quirked up slightly at the sides, making him appear roguish. Catch me if you can, said those fiery eyes. I'll leave you all in my dust.
Little did the erstwhile Officer Short know, as he sat tucked safely in the magma pod riding its way to the surface, how right and wrong he was.
Standing and looking over the absolute wreckage that was the Italian restaurant, Holly Short let out a groan of anguish, covering his face in his hands. "I'm getting suspended for sure," he moaned, wincing as the grand crystal chandelier finally broke loose, shattering on the ground in a spray of shining shards. It crushed a few spindly tables, one of which used to house a truly magnificent parfait. Now, the whole thing was a mess of spattered cream and glass shards.
The team of fairies that had come to retrieve the troll and repair the damages all jumped back, swearing profusely as they did so. Thankfully, they had cleared the Mud People out of the restaurant already, so the only true loss in the fall was that of the parfait. There was a moment of silence. Then, all the assembled fairies turned as one to glare in Holly's direction. He at least had the grace to look ashamed, blushing a dark mahogany as he quickly stuffed his helmet back onto his head. Once the boys back at the office heard about this, he was never going to live this down.
"Yeah, you are definitely getting suspended," said a fairy cheerfully from his place at Holly's side, using a portable scanner to map out the interior of the restaurant digitally to aide in restoration. "Lots of people are going to be working overtime on this, so I doubt you anyone's fairy of the year in here right now. But hey, at least none of the Mud People got snuffed. Chandeliers we can replace. Mud Men, not so much."
"Commander Root is going to drill me a new hole where the sun don't shine," muttered Holly into his helmet, the internal speakers carrying his words to the fairy at his side.
"Yeah, I heard you disobeyed a direct order," said the other fairy cheerfully, not looking up from his scanner and completely uncaring of his fellow fairy's soon-to-be suffering. "Based on that alone, I'd wager you're going to have more than a few new holes in you by the time he's through with you." Holly groaned again, loud and long. "Well Short, I'd get going if I were you," said the fairy, finally looked up from his scanner and giving the officer and friendly shake on the shoulder. "There's nothing really for you to do here, and if you stick around I think a few of my fellows are going to find a way to re-drop that chandelier on you while making it look like an accident."
"Thanks, Felix," Holly said with much relief, reaching around on his back to fire up his old DoubleDex wings. "Will you come visit me after the Commander puts me in the hospital?"
"No way! I'm going to make you d'arviting make you buy me dinner, regardless of what shape you're in," said Felix with obvious relish, his green eyes narrowing with pleasure. "This mess is going to take all night to clean up."
"I owe you one," said Holly gratefully, before simultaneously leaping skyward and firing up his wings. It was a risky move, but it was executed perfectly, and Holly was climbing further into the sky before his feet had touched the ground once more.
"Dinnnerrrrr!" shouted up Felix from below him, the whole sleepy village growing smaller and smaller as Holly climbed higher.
Once inside the safely of the clouds, Holly allowed his body to relax, his shoulder slumping and a sigh forcing its way from his lungs. Setting a course for the nearest oak, he opened up the throttle on his wings and let the exhilaration of flying wash away some of his disappointment.
It's not like he disobeyed orders simply because he felt like it, thought Holly with a frown, annoyed with the whole situation. He dropped to let his feet skim the tops of the clouds, disturbing the vapor with the wake of his passage. If he had waited for backup, everyone in the restaurant would have died. That had been one big troll. Holly had barely managed to escape serious injury with some quick thinking. But he doubted Commander Root was going to take that view, mused Holly sourly.
Checking his nav display to make sure he was still on course, Holly allowed himself to zone out, trying to envision how his meeting with the Commander would go once he got back to Haven. He could just see the rest of the office now, laughing over his latest screw up and placing bets on how red the Commander's face was going to get. Not that the office disliked Holly by any stretch of the imagination. Holly had always been good at making friends, once he had settled into an environment. School had been rough at first, as people thought that his "girly" name and small stature made him an easy target for bullying. To protect himself, Holly Short had decided to make himself as likable as possible. It was more his style to amass more friends than his attacker rather than earnign their respect through a pointless display of force. Plus, it meant he'd had plenty of friends to pal around with after class. Felix had been among his school chums, going as far as to take the LEPD Academy test with him. They had ended up in different divisions, as Felix was a computer whiz while Holly was a fly-boy, but they were still close.
Smiling, Holly brought himself into a steep dive, skimming over the water of the sea below like a stone across a pond. At least he could spend some time on the surface before he went down to face his doom. He loved it up here. Too bad the Mud Men were screwing it all to hell.
After twenty minutes of the wind whistling achingly over his helmet, Holly dropped into the branches of one of the largest oaks he had ever seen. Tucked neatly into the bend of a river, its massive limbs stretched up to almost touch the stars. Holly could easily stand on a branch with two feet outstretched and still have room to spare. Leaping down from perch to perch, relishing the flex and stretch of his muscles, Holly landed lightly on his feet at the tree's base. Unable to resist, he fingered the latch on his helmet, pulling it free from his head and dropping it to his feet. Closing his eyes, Holly took in a deep breath, drinking in the scent of the loam and the water. He relished the feeling of crisp night ear caress his ears.
There was barely any warning, only a flash of silver darting out of the corner of his eye. Then, a dull pinch on the side of his neck later, Holly had toppled to the ground, all the sensation draining from his limbs. The panic didn't even have time to set in property before his mind became hazy and liquid, all thoughts remaining just out of reach. Root is going to kill me, thought Holly groggily, his hazel eyes beginning to droop. There were vague notions hovering around the edges of his consciousness, things about his helmet and how someone had clearly been waiting here to trap him, but they faded away like silver smoke. Through the growing darkness, he heard the crunching of feet on leaves, his soon-to-be captors approaching up the north side of the bank.
"It's all true," came a deep voice, full of surprise and admiration. "I must admit, Mistress, even after all we had done I still had my doubts."
"Well, you can now put those doubts to rest," said a high, clear voice, responding to the man. In Holly's confusion, he couldn't determine if the second voice was male or female, but then again everything was fading now. There was a rustle, and a form knelt near his head. Painstakingly, Holly tilted his head up to face the figure, his eyes barely open.
"Stay back, human," slurred out Holly, trying to make the blurry dark shape silhouetted by moonlight come into focus. "You don't know what you're dealing with."
The person chuckled, the edges of their shape blurring into darkness as Holly began to float into unconsciousness. "No," said the high voice, and Holly's eyes drifted closed at last. "It is you who doesn't know who you are dealing with."
And then, everything was darkness.
Artemis rose from her kneeling position, dusting off her pants as she did so. She knew her clothes would get ruined on this trip, but it still irked her that she had to stoop to waiting in a filthy bog to capture her prey. But none of that mattered now. Artemis felt a thrill of excitement more potent than she had ever felt before rush through her. She had finally done it. Months and months of research, all her planning, was about to come into fruition. Brushing her hair behind her ear, Artemis made a note to herself to get it trimmed soon. It was becoming unruly.
"What now, Mistress?" asked Butler, looming over her in a way that blocked out the moonlight completely. Looking up at him, Artemis smiled widely, a grin as shark-like as the one Jon Spiro had once given her all those years ago.
"Now," she said simply, looking down on the small form edged with silver moonshine, at the pointed ears curving gracefully from its head, "The real fight begins." And Artemis Fowl the Second laughed in the darkness, the flow of triumph running sickly sweet through her veins.
It was the start of a beautiful friendship.
Thank you to those who have already reviewed or followed. As always, it is greatly appreciated. :) The next chapter should be out soon.
