Anxiously, I knot my fingers together, feeling the moisture of my palms slick the insides of my leather gloves. I must not back out now! No, not when I was so close. If I were to reach out, I could touch him, just pull him into the bushes with me. I'd cover his mouth so he wouldn't make a noise, and maybe, just maybe, his nasty bodyguard wouldn't notice. The man was more of a brutish ape than a man, and that was putting it nicely. He looked as though he could kill any normal man with a flick of his wrist. I'm sure I wasn't far off, but this was nothing new. I'd seen all the bodyguards of the most important and smartest people in the world. Why should this 'Artemis Fowl,' a mere, magic-obsessed boy, be any different? Not even the likes of his prestigious father had been in possesion of a bodyguard that was any sort of a match for me.
They might be huge and strong, but I'm small, fast, and seeing a little grey-eyed, golden-haired, baby-faced fourteen year old girl is always startling. By the time they snap out of their trances, I'm already racing away with whatever prize I'm after. This time, it's me against a very educated, handsome young man whom is notorious for scheming his way out of various situations. But what can a boy like him do in a level seven containment chamber? No one had been known to ever escape even a level six, and that's some serious shit right there. No one had ever been known to even make anything beyond level six, excepting me of course. I'd rigged mine so that no one could even teleport of out that baby, and lemme tell ya, that was some task. I had everything I needed to keep my little bird in the cage; all I had to do was capture my lovely Fowl, and then I'd have everything play out as it should.
My chest heaves as I exhale to such an extent that I fear I will be discovered, waiting in the bushes with several sedatives disguised in my sleeve. Even for a baby-faced fourteen year old girl no taller than five feet, that didn't look so great. I simply stood my ground and growled to myself at my great luck of being stuck in a bush with my target so close to me. I long to strike my prey and just get it over with, but that was illogical. I had to wait for the signal, that's all. I had to wait in a shrub in the middle of July at the Fowl estate in Ireland, hot sweat dripping all over me in my little green dress. Green, Rasta had said, would do two things for me: one, hide me in the bushes where I was needed, and two, compliment my eyes. Of course, I'd nixed the spiked heels he'd insisted went well with the dress and pulled on some soft faded olive-toned leather boots in their place. The feel of leather against my toes was reassuring, just enough for me to hold my position for a bit longer. Despite my being veiled by a shrub, I saw the signal, a man dabbing his forehead with a bright red handkerchief and then neatly folding it into another pocket and every muscle in me tensed. With a bang and a gasp from the now-astonished party guests, the lights went out and I sprung.
In the dark, Butler's eyes combed vainly at his surroundings, a knife drawn to avoid too much noise, and I make my advance. I dive for his legs and catch him in his massive, gorilla-worthy thigh with my sedative injection. He falls like a rock without a sound, and it's all I can do to catch him with my portero ray gun (my own personal anti-gravity invention) and make sure no one hears the distinct thud. Nightvision glasses in place, I peer about the room for Artemis, who seems to have repositioned himself elsewhere. Finally, I spot him beneath a table that wasn't too far from my spot in the brush. I catch the base of his neck with the sedative and hoist him out from under the table.
Less than a minute later, I am miles away from the party at the estate, Butler is asleep in a closet, and the aloof Artemis (whose standoffish-ness prevented anyone at that party from missing him) was asleep in the back of the car I was now riding shot gun in. Yet another minute would go by, and the lights would turn back on and everyone would murmur about the strangeness of it all, rejoice in being able to see again, and go back to celebrating. No one would notice Artemis's absence until long after he (and I) were gone without trace. I peered at him over the shoulder of my seat and reassured myself with his sleeping face. It's a thrilling, thrilling feeling to see one of my prizes safely where they belong, and I can't help but think, Well, you've done it, Sofie, you captured Artemis Fowl. Mission accomplished.
Oh, how naive I can be...