Captain Holly Short was in distress. Although she had managed to get to the Police Plaza exactly on time, past Commander Root's office without being yelled at, and obtain a crappy cup of caffeine laden coffee, there was a colossal stack of unfinished paperwork waiting on the desk of her tiny cubicle: the only cubicle with a giant support column taking up half the space. There was nothing to do but to sift through it all. Holly half hoped that Artemis would resurface somehow, even after the mind-wipe. Even that would be better than sitting for endless hours, doing paperwork that was mostly usless anyway.
Holly removed the top inch of paper and scanned through it. An ancient file on the goblin-dwarf turf war, a filled order form from the Stonehenge pizza parlor, a flyer advertising a new kind of wings (copyright Foaly) a letter from the Council about the Artemis Fowl gold repayment, her apartment rental bill, a packet of coupons for the local supermarket, a note from Root discussing a new air-cleanser... it went on and on. Holly sighed resignedly. Better get started.

After nearly two hours of sorting through the endless mass of paper, Holly found a violet post-it from Foaly. It read:

IMPORTANT
Holly
---- meet me in the OPs booth 9:30 ----
Foaly

Holly checked her Moonometer. It said 9:29:44. That left her sixteen seconds until Foaly paged her over the intercom. Muttering under her breath, Holly ran down the hall, turned right, ignored an angry Root, raced down three flights of stairs, turned left, ran through the tech room, almost tripped over a mass of wires, and stood panting in front of the titanium cube that was the OPs booth. She made it by .004 of a second. Now open the door, Foaly...
Foaly did not open the door. Instead, he turned on the intercom.
Will Captain Holly Short and Commander Julius Root please report to the Operations Booth immediatly. Repeat. Holly and Julius to OPs immediatly. Every one else, back to work. Thank you.
Holly sighed and knocked on the door. Foaly opened it, to be greeted by the hearty laughter of the LEP techies. Imagine: a technological genius paging someone over the intercom, when they are standing right outside his door.
Oh. Hi, Holly. Where's Julius?
Most likely taking his time. Why are we wanted?
Foaly didn't answer, but he did go back inside his booth. Grinning, he pressed the intercom button.
Julius, PLEASE report to OPs IMMEDIATLY. But none of your rancid cigars. Thank you!

Naturally, Foaly finsihed at the exact moment Commander Root barged through the door, carrying a half-squashed cigar.
Foaly tutted. No, cigars, remember, Julius?
Root tossed the cigar in the trash chute. Why is my great prescense required in your lowly domain?
Getting godly airs, are we? Anyway. I was surfing the internet,as I am apt to do, and I came across a certain site. It's rather interesting.
Oh really? And this is important because...?
Well, this site, it's called It consists of mud people writing extensions to other books that other people have already written, and, you see, there's a whole section dedicated to Artemis Fowl. Intrigued, I read a few of them. Each features us. Now I was getting worried. I looked up Artemis Fowl in the Scholastic- that's a mud people's publisher- and found this one guy, Eoin Colfer, has written four books on us. Each has been published and is available to the general public, critically endangering Haven and the Lower Elements. Any questions?
Root had turned pale. But Holly was smiling.
But they are fantasy, correct?
They fall into the fantasy/sci-fi category, yes.
Then the mud people think we are simply fictional characters?
Well, yes...
By Frond, you're getting slow, pony-boy.
Root visibly relaxed.
Um, I think I'll survey the site from now on, just in case. Permission?
said Root stiffly,who promptly left and forgot the whole episode.
Holly sighed. I was kinda hoping there would be something that would prevent me from doing this stack of paperwork I have. That monstrosity is so huge it's making my poor desk sag. Bye Foaly. Holly went back to her office, rather dissapointed.
Foaly, for his part, got a lackey to go to the store and get him a box of tin foil. These fan fiction writers might have surveillance systems.

A/N: So. Any one who wants to be in this fic has to e-mail me their pen name, age, gender, and personality. My e-mail can be found on my profile page, but only by members. Review please. Ta!

-Throggy