Author's Notes;
I HAVE RETURNED! CUE CELEBRATIONS! STREAMERS!
...what, really? I don't get streamers? Okay.
(You can skip this if you're here for the first time, but this is an explanation I owe you if you were reading this fic since it was originally posted)
On the premise of rewriting this fic completely (for the third time– I first wrote this in 2014), I deleted the 24 chapters posted thus far; but I promise it won't be a disappointment to the reviewers, followers and favourites whom those chapters gathered because this will continue to be the same story that you love. I've taken down certain trivial things and altered the plot greatly, but the non-Mary Sue OCs and the hilarity will stay. The final version I'm posting now will, however, take a more serious turn and there will be much more focus on the brutality of the war unlike in the previous fic. There will be snippets of A/H kept completely in-character, but I'm taking on a Colfer-like style with the plot of this one. Still going to be fun, though, and will now feature all the improvements that you asked for!
Rewriting this fic for the third time is a lot of effort, but I'm only doing it because of the fantastic support everyone over here has shown over the years since I joined. You guys are awesome, and even if you're reading for the first time, WELCOME ABOARD THE BEST VERSION YET!
Ah, I doth love my introductions.
First Posted 3-29-2014,
Updated as of 7-21-2016.
Hang on, dear reader. Things are about to get nuclear.
Fowl Manor
Dublin, Ireland.
The first thing any non-human would have hitting his or her head, sinking into their pores and overpowering all motor functions upon entering the Fowl's ancestral residence, was without a doubt the sheer size of everything. And not just the towering marble columns or the grand oaken staircase, which were quite something even in Mud Man terms, but, well, if you were three feet tall, and if it was your first or second time, you'd feel about the same way an ant feels inside a bathtub with a massive human hand about to twist the tap. Despite there not being any real impending danger unless you weren't welcomed, it was exactly the feeling that the miles-away ceiling and the broad timber floors gave you.
The number was few, but it was no small boast that the Fairy People did in fact have a handful of their members who were quite used to the Manor's feel, immune to the size and welcomed by its patrons. A small step. But a step nonetheless, and if they would say the word, the first real foundation.
Deep into one of the spacious corridors on the second floor, a door clicked for privacy and a shower turned on.
Minutes later, Holly Short was trying to relax. She had been arguing with the notion of sleep for a remarkable two hours, and had somehow convinced her retreating senses that all they needed was a hot shower. They had screamed back. She'd quickly coaxed them into the prospect of a steaming tub, and so here she was, a welcome guest to the Manor with a mind in a dozen other places on and under the world.
A vision, maybe two. Three squat buildings in the distance wore a crown of fire...sirens, blaring signals from the nerves of Haven City...
Screaming. Too much of it.
Charring, sizzling, burning. Too much of that as well.
The vision changes. She's safe. Bleeding, bruised, but safe, surrounded by three concerned faces. One takes her hand. She thinks it's a friend, but it's just a paramedic making a pulse count. She closes her eyes, but soon wishes she hadn't; now the scenery was new a second time.
It's on the surface. A nice enough view, a skyline to put New York to shame...she frowns. It is New York. What was she doing there? What had she ever done there?
Someone says something, but she doesn't catch it, and she turns around and looks. Her breath gets caught.
The human worriedly observing her is...
He's something to worry about himself. But he doesn't pay that any attention.
A bolt of lighting. She's staring at the surface from the top of the world; and all she sees is the colour red. She dares to hope it's just her eyes, but she rubs the blood from them, and the world is...
Still...
Burning.
That was one of the better attacks that happened.
Holly bolted upright, suddenly aware of the soap and water gently drowning into her ears and nose. "D'Arvit," she muttered, sinking back into the water cautiously. Maybe hot tubs were a bad idea for nerve-wrecked souls.
She glanced around the fittings. Standing out in sharp contrast to the hallways and wallpaper outside, the bathroom facilities were simplistic and modern, if a little expensive-looking. A tiny hidden projector cast a digital timing on the empty wall. 12:34.
Holly Short was trying to relax, really. Trying, but barely having success. She watched the soap bubbles of varying sizes take their places in the sea of foam, floating over every inch of the warm water. She felt her muscles tense, then relax and let the tingling sensation wound its way up to the tips of her pointed ears.
Six weeks. There hadn't been a human attack in six weeks, which was neither great nor bad news. They could be planning a bigger step ahead in world domination for all she knew. Developing bigger weapons. Recruiting better forces.
It had all started three years ago, after the Great Techno Crash. The humans' source was still undiscovered, but someone had revealed the existence of Haven City. It hadn't, at first, been the nightmare they had dreaded: the Mud Men had actually come in peace. They promised residential areas above ground in exchange for technology to develop their own civilization. It had actually gone quite well.
And one day, war broke out. How, and why, was as of yet unknown: all they did know was that half of the Mud Men's population was on their side and the other half had turned against them, plunging the world into a cross species war, a second battle of Taillite that there was no running away from. Holly sighed, running her fingers through her hair. There were only three safe places left on the planet-Haven, the Above Ground LEP Headquaters and this-Fowl Manor, Ireland. What insane troops would siege on the Fowl Estate?
She picked up her communicator after its second ring. Handy, having it nearby at unlikely places; but these were certainly not unlikely times. No one could tell when the next big alert would come. "Foaly, I'm busy."
The centaur could be heard whining on the other end of the line. It was not a pleasant sound, like scraping nails on a chalk board. "With what, taking a bath?"
Holly sat up a little straighter again. "Are you watching me from somewhere?"
"No, Myles told me. I ringed up the Manor first. This is not the time for a bath! I am freaking out over here. We're getting reports of Mud Man patrols hanging around in the area...What if they breach my security? Everyone's on holiday, Holly! We're missing the only officers who could help! Including you! Are you even listening?"
The Elfin Captain closed her eyes, sighing. This war had worked wonders on her friend's paranoia. "I'll get there in a while. I just...I just really miss Artemis, Foaly. Didn't get to talk to him yet."
"Artemis! Artemis!" Foaly let out a snortlike whinny. "Oh, willing to forgo all sense of priority, are we now? Because you want to hang out with your boyfriend?"
On any other day, Holly would've fired a scathing comeback in a matter of a moment, but the most she had energy for right now was a poisonous glare in the direction of his hologram, so that was what she settled with. "I'm trying to relax. Given everything that has been going on the past week, I think I deserve it. Now would you mind moving onto something that won't make me feel like kicking your rear when I get back?"
The centaur muttered something that the whisper sensitive equipment managed to convey to her, so it was purely her problem that she didn't understand the Centaurian language. Finally he composed his nerves, which had been as twisted as hers over the previous days, and settled with a relatively safe topic. "Did I tell you what I planned for Caballine's birthday?"
The elf smiled. Annoying as the centaur could be, even she had to admit that his unwavering dedication to his wife- even in the smallest ways - was pretty sweet. Not that she'd ever voice that thought. Not that there'd be a point, anyway. Foaly didn't bite the bait of teasing. "Do spill."
Foaly went in to great detail about his upcoming party and what he planned on doing with the lights, the lamps (she asked what the difference was, only to soon wish she hadn't) and the artificial weather machine he recently patented that outdid his own previous models that most of the city's weather parks had. Holly pasted on a look of mild interest, but in reality she blocked out the incessant techno-babble and paid attention instead to the feeling of the warm soap bubbles that nudged at her skin, mesmerizing her senses now that the jacuzzi feature started to work...
"D'Arvit!" started Foaly, cutting short her moment of bliss. He scrambled around his gadgets in a frantic search of something–Holly raised an eyebrow and didn't bother reacting further.
"Mud Boy was eavesdropping," grumbled Foaly, picking up some sort of console. "Holly, get this guy under control!" There was a wave of static that twisted the centaur's features, before the small projection split into two holograms from the communicator, which she carefully put down on the nearby windowsill so she could see what was really going on. One projection held a frustrated centaur's face, and the other was the face of a pale human with a smirk playing across his features. He nodded at her.
"Good evening, Holly."
"Hey, inopportune," snapped Foaly. "Switch the holograms off, she's taking a bath."
Artemis rolled his eyes. "We're both at the same angle."
Despite knowing full well that both friends could see little below her chin, the elf sunk further into the mass of bubbles a little self-consciously, arms crossed.
"Well?" She demanded. "What valid reason do you have for interrupting my bath?"
"Is that Beckett's rubber duck? He assured me he had outgrown it," said Artemis, stepping his way around her question.
Holly cast a weary glance at the toy on the counter behind her. "Artemis, why are you here?"
"Yeah, why are you here?" repeated Foaly.
"I'm not coming home tonight," stated Artemis matter-of-factly. "Also, I didn't know you'd be unavailable, and my apologies for that, Holly, but I have to ask something of you."
Holly raised an eyebrow testily. "Oh really? You may have not guessed I'd be taking a bath, Mud Boy, but at the very likeliest I would be asleep at this time. Means you were planning on disturbing me anyway."
Artemis shrugged, not even trying to look apologetic this time. "It's important."
"Is it related to that bio-nuke dismantling strategy you've been dragging for the past month?" asked Foaly dryly. "Holly, it's insane and his drafts are crazy. Don't accept the offer."
Holly winked at Artemis. "Nice try, Fowl."
Artemis sighed irritably. "No, Foaly, I wasn't asking the Captain to be my guinea pig– pardon, our guinea pig."
Foaly snorted unappreciatively. "You took the reigns from me, Mud Boy."
"I am," cut in Holly, "Nobody's guinea pig. Step on it, Artemis, and tell me what you want that is so important you had to–"
"I need you down here in Haven."
Holly paused, taking this in, then asked in the tone she found that most expressed displeasure, "Why and for how long?"
"Not long," assured their human contact. "Just tomorrow night, and only for a couple of hours. There are things we have to discuss in a saner atmosphere than HQ. After which, of course, I will be returning Aboveground, and you're welcome to follow suit."
"I'm welcome to," snorted Holly. "You really think I have a choice with my shifts, Mud Boy?"
"What," came Foaly's curious notes. "Exactly do you have to discuss in a saner environment than HQ?"
"Three upcoming plans related to the good Captain's division," Artemis showed the number on his fingers just in case the centaur would take it as an insult to his intellect, which, to the human's great satisfaction, he did, and whinnied once in protest. "As well as the case of our enemy's new favourite weapon. In my experience, Foaly, you aren't the best person to bring that up with."
Foaly guffawed. "You make life harder for me, yet you turn around and shit the blame."
Holly couldn't help a mean little chuckle. "Alright, ladies," she interrupted Artemis's tip-of-the-tongue retort. "You can swap office gossip later." She rested her chin in the foam of soap bubbles and looked over at Artemis. "Your flat?"
Artemis didn't even object. For the past year now he had had to repeatedly remind her that no, it was not a flat (as in Haven City living in a 'flat' was only acceptable for budget graduates), it was indeed a very respectable apartment that had cost a lot. Despite the on-purpose reference to his expensive abode as something he considered classless, a slow grin played across his lips at the question.
Holly frowned the slightest bit, unsure what the smug grin was in return for. "What? We are meeting up at your flat, right?"
Artemis shook his head, the corners of his lips curled up in a smile. Whether it had genuine reasons or whether it was for her ignorance she did not know. "The Pristine. Eight o'clock at the latest. I look forward to meeting you there, Captain."
Holly froze in her attempt at blowing a bigger soap bubble than before.
"Oh dear," observed Foaly unhelpfully, a wicked look stamped to his face.
Holly turned to the Mud Man slowly. "Excuse me, but did you just say..."
"I'm paying the bill," asserted Artemis.
The elf just stared, almost gawked at him. He spent a moment or two wading in the waters of self-accomplishment and more smugness, before nodding them both a farewell and cutting the line from his end.
Holly was left with only Foaly's miniature hologram to gawk at.
"Well," commented the centaur with a smirk. "I'm willing to bet you won't hear a lot about blueprints or barricade agendas on your date."
It took Holly a whole second to process this, but when she did, the outcome was expectedly violent.
"Shut your molars, centaur," she snapped.
Foaly dragged at his cheeks in horror. "Ooh, I'm so afraid you're going to reach out and punch me."
"When I get back to HQ," snarled Holly. "I will."
The centaur grew decidedly sober after that. "But in all seriousness, Holly, why would he choose to conduct business over there? It isn't exactly...I mean, trust me when I say this, but it isn't your kind of environment. Full of rich fairies and silverware. Our dwarf friend would purge at the site of it. Well, maybe just before realizing all the things he can steal."
Holly held up a hand to shut him. "Just a second there, Foaly. All I know about Pristine is that it's a seven-star dining establishment that opened with the intention of making humans feel more welcome in Haven, and also getting fairies used to appreciating human culture. It was French or something. And..."
She trailed off, then Foaly eagerly picked up. "And it's exclusive, has private tables, a jazz band and a quite spectacular view of the city from its sky lounge."
Holly looked at him questioningly.
"Took Caballine there once," he explained proudly. "Quite recently, in fact. So I am as surprised as you are that Fowl would consider it ideal for a mandatory strategy session, unless it is not a mandatory strategy session that he invited you over for."
Holly felt she wasn't keeping up, somehow. "What do you mean?"
Foaly gave her an innocent look. "Oh, seven-star dining, a view of the pretty lights, a table for two...what do you suppose it could possibly mean?"
And the little hints finally hit her hard enough for her to physically jerk back, almost hitting her head on a low overhead shelf, while her complexion took on a dash of scarlet that would've impressed a makeup artist.
"W-What..." stammered Holly, eyes wide, ears aflame. Her soldier's bravado and logic had left her. So had her general ability of coherent thought.
Foaly's grin only grew impossibly wide. "Oh, I would get out of there if I were you. Too much of bubble bath can have you smelling distinctly like pheromones to interested humans."
"Shut. Up," scowled Holly. "Shut up now if you value your life."
"Oh, but think of what's ahead, darling," sang Foaly. "And oh, the planning! He didn't give you quite enough time to plan what to wear, did he?"
Holly grabbed the duck off the counter and clenched her fist around it, imagining with all her might that the helplessly squeaking rubber was a certain centaur's primary nerve cluster. Or the brain. Directly the brain would be better.
"I see someone has taken my teasing too much to heart," noted Foaly, smirking unbelievably. "Why? Recalled a particular moment of passion, Captain?"
Holly released the duck and grabbed a bottle of shampoo off the counter. It would last longer against the pressure. "There was nothing!"
"Mm, what was that?" asked Foaly distractedly. "Uh huh, sorry, a little engrossed in the Mud Boy here, Foaly, priority can wait!"
Holly slammed a fist into a red button and the connection was cut, and gone was the hologram of the ridiculous centaur who'd just started making kissy faces.
She exhaled a loud breath of boiling frustration before sinking back slowly into the filled tub. The bubble jets did nothing to calm her now.
She shot a bitter look at the communicator, for some reason wanting to believe that the genii had set this up just so Foaly could have his fun. It wouldn't make her feel better, of course, but at least it'd give her an excuse to get them both.
All hopes of a peaceful night's rest evaporated off Holly's mood when, the moment she finished putting on a big tshirt and tracks that belonged to Juliet, an urgent knock sounded on her door.
She looked at it for a few seconds, toying with the idea of ignoring it completely, but she knew better from previous experience that she could not fool even the youngest Fowls.
Trying to look dejected and haggardly and badly in need of rest– which wasn't at the moment a hard look to pull off– she opened the door to two angelic faces that wore excited grins.
"You're late," stated Myles.
"Sorry," said Holly, not feeling too sorry. She had the entire night to fascinate them with stories of the LEP and her miscellaneous adventures. But hide and seek was a different matter. The elf shuddered as she recalled their last game. Not to go into detail, but it had involved a gallon of hair gel, a drum set, and a clothes line.
"When is the Battalion planning on setting off another nuclear blue rinse?" asked Myles, getting the whole question out in a single breath. "Artemis said something about a flaw in the design. I believe him and Mr Foaly have been making an effort to find out exactly what–"
Holly yawned a little pointedly.
Beckett mistook this for his cue. "Who cares, right, Holly?"
Holly groaned.
"How do you shoot with a gun?"
"Beckett," said his twin disgustedly. "That's a stupid question."
"So is the stuff about bombing!" huffed the other six-year-old.
In a truly rare turn of events, Myles took to complaining to the only present adult. "Holly!"
Beckett scowled back. "Holly, tell him!"
The elf groaned. It was going to be a long night, alright.
Author's Note; And there you have it, an exciting change or two from the original story. Do leave me a review and tell me what you think of it; love it? Hate it? Better or worse than the old one? I'm open to everything, lovelies!
- forever Fowl-fangirling,
Shaadia.
