Disclaimer: Yeah. I own Artemis Fowl.
Well, not really. I lied. Lol, Please don't hurt me . . . cower Let me say it straight out: I do not own Artemis Fowl or the characters in this fic, except Hanna Chlora, Mandal Birini, the LEBI (equivalent to FBI, etc.), and all of it's affiliates.
Basically, if you don't recognize it, it's mine.
A/N: If you're about to flame me for mary-sueism, give it till the next chapter- if by then Hanna Seems the MS type, I encourage you to flame me. -
Paranoia and Her Gun
Prequel: Leaving St. Frond's
The loss of his beloved flight ability had a profound effect on Chix Verbil. He believed he had lapsed into a profound depression.
Writhing in violent physical agony in a St. Frond's (A/N: excuse the lameness of the name) Hospital bed seemed to attract the sweet sympathy of some very well endowed female nurses, which barely lightened the private's spirits. They were easy prey. For him, that is.
And then he'd been discharged quietly from the hospital when Warlock Dr. Tantalum had realized that he'd actually stayed a week and two days after he was healed. The doctor had assumed that Chix had stayed to remain in the company of his nurses, which, any other time, would have definitely been the case. But Chix Verbil had other things on his mind at the moment. He was shamed to show his face in the LEP Reconnaissance offices, particularly Captain Holly Short's office . . .
So now the private was leaving. Finally. He'd tried to feel relieved, because he knew he should, but it seemed impossible; He'd never fly more than a few feet off the ground, and he'd disobeyed a higher officer's direct orders resulting in a life-death situation for both himself and Captain Short. But he couldn't cower in St. Frond's forever, right . . .?
Not unless he could fake off something like a surgical obsession.
Hmmm . . . Maim his handsome face or face his pretty captain . . .
He increased his pace, suddenly wanting to put a vast amount of space between St. Frond's and himself. He wandered on for about half an hour, not really going anywhere; only meandering aimlessly, drifting lazily from one thought to another. Feeling for all the world like he'd been ostracized from society entirely. He ignored the giggling groups of pretty females.
Several blocks later has passage was checked impetuously by a flimsy yellow tape reading "LEBI LINE- DO NOT CROSS" He was in a sort of stream-of- consciousness disposition, so he stood there, just gazing indolently at the apartment building, his hands in his pockets. The yellow tape was shimmering and flowing sluggishly in the artificial breezes that had been set in Haven.
After a while, the heavy titanium doors slid open and a young elf with dark hair slipped out. He was laughing loudly at something unseen. He walked down the steps. Chix saw that he was wearing something like a shiny cat suit. The private couldn't make out what his badge said. The tall elf laughed unintermittedly, clutching the metal siding for support.
"Agent Birini!" A grisly female voice shouted from inside the doors. It sounded like a fight, but her voice sounded amused. "Mandal!"
A very flabby and frightened (Not to mention sweaty) looking gnome ran from behind the set of doors. He paused, hesitating for a single moment, but a moment too late. He jumped to avoid a scorch in the smooth pavement. Someone was firing from the set of doors.
Then a simpering sprite (for at the time a sprite she definitely seemed), apparently the owner of the voice, bolted, flying roughly from the door, as if her wings were less than. She holstered what appeared to be a small neutrino and, not pausing, pulled the gnome convict to the ground. There was a struggle, but the gnome seemed to be tired out. The tiny sprite was walloping the gnome with fast adamantine like blows in the fat face. She and the dark-hair, apparently Agent Birini were some kind of officers, but if he'd seen them before, Chix didn't remember. The elf was still cachinnating loudly.
"C'mon Chlora! You've clobbered me better than that!" Agent Birini shouted with a deep voice like his voice was hoarse. He pounded his fist, cheering the fight on.
The sprite stood mercilessly, laying a few crippling kicks to the gnome's ribs. She was cursing freely, all the while with a maniacal beam stretching her lips. "D'Arvit!"
A little pixie mother glared atrociously at Agent Chlora, covering her small son's pointed ears.
The elf spotted Chix, and trotted over, still laughing at the fight, cheering Agent Chlora benevolently on over his shoulder. Chix stammered:
"She's got a buzz baton, eh?" Chix gaped. "Why isn't she using it?"
"Oh," Agent Birini glanced over his shoulder with a smile. "That's Hanna. She's . . ." He paused. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to use our detour . . .," He continued on, rambling about convicts and docked pay, urging Chix to move on. Something or other. Private Verbil caught a glimpse of Agent Birini's badge: LEBI, Lower Elements Bureau of Investigation (A/N: that would be something to the effect of FBI, but I fiddled with new names to avoid being flamed.Again.)
Private Verbil moved reluctantly on towards the East detour, peering oddly at the ferocious little sprite. Birini or Whatever was shouting:
"Hit him with the trash can. Use the trash can!"