The Everett Interpretation

by John Creel

Post TLG. Second part of the "From Hades" duology: Time heals all wounds, or so they say. A year has passed since the war, and everything has settled back into a sense of normalcy. But nothing lasts forever, especially peace. As an unprecedented foe pulls the strings, the entire world will be thrown into a chaos that only Artemis can save it from. Rated T for violence and language.

1. Prologue

Unknown Location

A single light cast a feeble ray over the otherwise dark room, just barely illuminating the surfaces within, and doing nothing to stave off the creeping shadows that dominated the hidden recesses of the chamber. Bookshelves lined the walls, loaded with esoteric volumes and unnamed binders that could contain just about anything. In the exact center of the room, almost imperceptible in the fragile half-light, was an Edwardian desk, hand carved out of mahogany, and inlaid with artful decoration. Even more elusive to the eye was the figure sitting at it, hunched over in contemplation. He was dressed in the darkest of suits, matching with absolute precision the sable shade of his hair. With his hands folded on the desk's green leather writing surface, and his head tilted down in intense thought, he said not a word, rendering the room so silent that it could have been in the vacuum of space. Before him was a laptop, its top closed and its battery light pulsing gently, and to his right was a cup of steaming drink, the heat rising from its black surface to form an ethereal trail that faded seamlessly into the darkness. The figure sat there for the longest time, so still that the only movement was that of the steam swirling above the hot beverage.

"So, I have finally come to this point," he said suddenly, with a voice that was both calculative and composed. There was no real emotion in it, as if such feeling was an inconvenience. "I am now at an impasse. With everything already in place, and the necessary actions waiting on a single word, all it takes is the will of a single man to put it all into motion. And just like the butterfly effect, that single word, minute in its utterance, will bring forth changes that will shake the fabric of time itself."

The small light shone behind his head, leaving his visage immersed in shadow as he paused.

"It is logical to deduce," he began again, "that but one question remains. And that question already has an answer." He paused again, sitting up a little in order to improve his posture. "Am I prepared to do what must be done? Am I ready to put into motion the irreversible series of events that will spell the end of this world, but mean the betterment of another? After a year of thought, a year of careful orchestration, I have steeled myself for this, and now I am at the decisive moment. Will I go through with my deepest intentions, or will the feeble voice of morality pull me back? No, there is no room for morality. Indeed, morality has no place here, not when time is fleeting, and opportunity is brief."

He unfolded his hands, and took a sip of the hot drink, which had been steeped to perfection. Letting the warmth of the hot tea seep through him, he set the cup down.

"The consequences I have considered, and though they may be terrible for many, such is unavoidable; such is the nature of this endeavor. Not that their well-being concerns me, not when I do not belong here. This place is not my home, nor am I its guest. Unfortunately, they have become but a means to an end, a disposable catalyst in a reaction which brings forth something that only I desire and only I have use for. And so," he stood up, the chair creaking slightly as his weight was removed from it, "I am at that same place Julius Caesar stood so many years ago, where a single decision, regardless of which way it went, would bring irrevocable changes. And just as he held the lives of his army in his hands, so do I hold billions in mine. Such responsibility is beyond any man, but just as Caesar could not possibly go back, so is my die cast, and so I must." There was a crushing silence as he paused one more time, his hidden eyes looking into another place. "The metaphorical Rubicon waits to be crossed. In fact, I've already done so, and from that there is no return."

Lower Elements Police Headquarters, Haven

"You've got to be kidding me."

Holly Short stood in her office, her right eye slightly twitching as she beheld one of the most dreaded realities—no, the most dreaded reality—of police work: paperwork. It dominated the desk that had once been bereft of anything except for her name placard, the stack of documents—which were actually artificial and not in the slightest a product of deforestation—taking up every inch of space. What was more insulting was the fact that the LEP had long since ceased using physical documentation, replacing it with digitized forms that could be filled out on datapads. For Holly Short, such digitization made the tedious work easy to ignore, and she had been doing so intentionally for the better part of six months. But that had ended about as well as expected, because out-of-sight didn't translate into a magical exoneration from mundane tasks. On the contrary, it would seem that the administration had realized her blatant disregard for protocol, and, without any notice, decided to actually print it all off and dump it in her office. They'd even done her the courtesy of providing a whole box of pens, with a little note indicating that they were to be returned to the office of internal affairs when she was done with them. That made her roll her eyes. The day was a nightmare, and it wasn't even lunchtime.

"Someone's going to pay for this," Holly said under her breath as she sat down in the desk's rigid office chair. "I have a secretary for a reason!"

She eyed the writing utensils, and then the first sheet of paper—an officer misconduct report with her name on it. Despite her annoyance she begot a slight grin when she saw the name of the filer of the complaint. Saw that one coming from a mile away. Apparently she had offended a certain "Corporal Lili Frond" by calling her a "Bimbo" and an "Incompetent airhead" after the Corporal had failed every single live firing exercise in the Retrieval Team qualification trials. She also forgot which way to point the damn gun. Holly promptly crumpled the report into a tiny ball and tossed it into the recycling bin on the other side of the room. If that pampered elf couldn't handle a little dose of the truth once and a while she most certainly didn't deserve to wear a uniform, let alone the highly revered crest of an LEP retrieval team.

Holly sat still for a long moment, wondering whether or not to draw her sidearm and vaporize every last piece of paper in sight. She eventually decided against it, not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't want to ruin her office. Instead, she actually applied herself to the paperwork, starting with a cluster of division reports. She was only halfway through her second page when she accidentally broke her pen in half, spilling ink all over the papers set out before her, making them akin to Rorschach tests.

"Alright, that's enough of that!" she growled, removing herself from her seat.

The elf turned around to face the window, which was partially covered by virtual blinds. She switched them off, letting Haven's artificial sunlight spill into the office.

At least I've got a view.

The bustling fairy metropolis stretched out before her, its lively sounds muted by the glass, but its vibrancy no less apparent. It had been a little over a year since the events surrounding Opal Koboi's return, since the war that had utterly destroyed so much of the People's proud civilization. The view she had now had been a lot different thirteen months ago, in fact there hadn't even been a window to look out of, but instead a massive hole in the wall. No corner of the city had been spared, and even months after its end the place had still looked like a shooting gallery.

But so much has changed since then. Holly thought as she proudly observed the world before her. Indeed, it was a sight to behold, not only due to its rejuvenated appearance, but the underlying truth it told as well. The People were remarkably resilient, so much so that the cataclysmic events of the war had only further ignited their fiery perseverance. They had fought tooth and nail against the most terrible enemy they had ever faced, almost to the point of annihilation, and still came out strong. The city before her now was a testament to such strength, such courage, and such an unbreakable will to survive. It made her smile, letting her forget the administrative atrocity behind her.

Holly let the rays of artificial sunlight wash over her for a little longer, inwardly imagining being on the surface once more, free to experience the world and all of its beauty, and free to go wild with a set of wings without having to care about regulations. She could see trees flashing by as she pushed her gear to its limits, the land beneath her an obstacle course for her enjoyment. She could hear the birds chirping with confusion as she flew along beside them, the wondrous sensation of flight ripping through her body. And she could envision, with the utmost clarity, the sun rising over the rolling hills of Ireland, the sea in the distance reflecting its brilliant light. It was a short moment of yearning, one that did little to free her from her current circumstance, but it felt good.

Giving the cityscape one final look, she went to turn around, but stopped abruptly when the light glinted off of the golden acorns that adorned her uniform. She had been a major for over a year now and yet she still hadn't gotten used to it. She had refused such a promotion on so many occasions, wary that it would only hold her back, its responsibilities taking away the freedom of being a recon officer. But such worries had been assuaged this time around, her heroics during the war literally giving her immunity. After that campaign there was no way she could keep a promotion from hitting her, so she did one of the things she did best—she made them swear on their lives that they wouldn't take away her operational freedoms. Naturally they accepted, and so in the end she remained in the recon division, and gained even more powers within that role. She also got her own office, as did all of the higher-ups, plus a secretary to handle most of her paperwork. Overall it was a satisfactory change. Besides, being a Major had its perks, including the ability to acquire surface visas like carrot juice.

However, despite all of this she couldn't shake the feeling, a pit in her chest as she looked at the golden representation of her rank. Deep down she knew what it was. It was a bittersweet reminiscence about a certain person in her life, one who had long since passed on. Julius. The name struck an eternal chord within her heart, making her sit down in thought. She had made peace with his loss long ago, but it would always be with her, and becoming a Major only enhanced it. It was the creeping knowledge that one day, if she kept this up, she would be in the same shoes Julius had been in, as Commander in Chief of the LEP. It made her uneasy, uncertain even, because she could never imagine living up to the elf she had admired so much. Becoming CINCLEP just didn't sit right with her.

He would be proud if you did. A voice spoke within her head. It aroused a different feeling in her, and as she sat in her chair, watching as the light danced off of the acorns on her lapel, she smiled. No, Julius was already proud of her, he'd said that a long time ago. That was all she needed.

Holly went back to eying the paperwork on her desk, but her mind was elsewhere. She wondered about many things, anything but the documents before her, but her mind quickly settled on a certain mud boy. I wonder what Artemis is doing. It must be more exciting than this. It got her remembering their adventures over the last year, which had been nothing too excessive, just the usual collaboration that was necessary to catch rogue fairies. But that was more than enough for her, for really it was being around Artemis that made it all worthwhile. They had been through so much together, their lives so intertwined that she could not imagine it being otherwise. Holly tapped her fingers absentmindedly on the desk as she thought of the boy, noting how it had been a few weeks since she had last seen him. She would have to drop by Fowl Manor once she got this paperwork done—she would most certainly need the vacation, and Artemis most certainly needed someone to bug him.

The elf was just about to make another attempt at the paperwork when her communicator beeped, followed by the familiar voice of Haven's friendly neighborhood technomaniac.

"Holly, are you there?" Foaly said, his speech a little rushed. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

Holly grinned ear-to-ear, tossing her pen aside. "Nope, nothing at all."

"They finally dropped the paperwork on you, didn't they?" the centaur replied, as perceptive as ever. "Then you'll be glad to hear that there's a little shindig going on, and Trouble needs you present in the ops booth as soon as possible."

"Music to my ears. Tell him I'll be there in a minute."

"Will do."

Holly put down the communicator, wondering exactly what had happened. Only a visit to the command center would tell, but there was one thing that she knew for sure: if there was a need to call her in, there had to be something big afoot. Holly wasted no time removing herself from the uncomfortable office chair, and in no time she was out the door. Emerging into the hallway she passed her secretary's booth, where the poor elf was typing furiously, no doubt up to her ears in the rest of Holly's paperwork. "Sorry," Holly said honestly as she passed by the booth, exceptionally grateful.

She progressed into the busy halls of the Police Plaza, her strides long and her gait confident. Fellow officers made way for her, some staring, others greeting her warmly. Some even looked a little faint, particularly Corporal Chix Verbil, who was ridiculously obsessed with not only her, but every woman on the planet. Even still, there were others who eyed her with envy, or even hardline jealously. But regardless of their reactions, everyone held her in the utmost respect. After all, she was one of the few female Majors in LEP history, and a legend to boot.

Holly flashed her credentials when she reached the command room door—not that she needed to—and was ushered in. The room was filled with activity, which was perfectly normal, and no one so much as glanced at her as she made her way towards the ops booth, where Trouble and Foaly were no doubt waiting. She was about to tap on the door when it flashed open, revealing a small room filled with monitors and untold amounts of tax dollars. Foaly had a new ops booth, and needless to say it made the UK's GCHQ look like an ipod.

"Major Short, glad you could make it," Commander Trouble Kelp greeted as she entered, his voice rough and authoritative. However, when the door closed, his rigid composure evaporated, replaced by a friendly smile. "It's good to see you Holly."

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Holly said, returning the smile. "I'm glad you've managed to retain some of yourself over that time. That first greeting reminded me of someone."

A look flashed over Trouble's face, but it was gone just as fast. "I'm not sporting any fungus cigars, and my complexion is quite bereft of hot colors."

Holly grinned as she passed him. "Not yet." Inwardly she was quite happy for him. Indeed, since he had become CINCLEP he had developed some familiar traits, but that was just part of the job. What mattered most was that he was an excellent commander, and an even greater friend.

"Anyway, enough of this," Trouble said gruffly, snapping back into a professional persona. "There are some very pertinent matters to attend to. Foaly, if you'd please."

"Already on it." The centaur had been sitting in silence the entire time, observing several monitors as he sat in his custom swivel chair. Such silence was rare, as it would usually be filled with technomaniacle gloating, meaning that he was either saving up for a particularly long-winded rant about how clever he was, or that something very serious had taken place. The concentrated look on his face indicated that it was the latter.

Holly looked over his shoulder to observe the screens, but what caught her eye more than anything were the dozens of pictures stuck on the wall to his left, pictures of his wife, Cabaline, and, more recently, their newborn daughter. Her name was Elaine, and Foaly was incredibly proud, so much so that he wouldn't stop bringing in new photos to show off to everyone, ranting about how lucky a centaur he was. It was wonderful thing, seeing him so happy. The only question that remained was whether his quirks were hereditary; if so, there would soon be two unstoppable technomaniacs in Haven, and one was troublesome enough for the LEP's budget. Two would be an economic bombshell.

"Isn't she precious?" Foaly whispered to the elf, having noticed her look. He grinned widely, but when Trouble cleared his throat he quickly went back to his work. "As you both know," the centaur began, "There was a considerable number of escaped convicts resulting from the upheaval Opal caused. Many have been captured, much to your credit, Holly, and Artemis' as well course. However, there are others who still manage to elude us, especially this bunch." He brought up a series of criminal profiles, all of which were dwarfs, and spread them across the monitor so that each mug shot could be seen. Holly recognized one of the faces immediately.

"Sergei the Significant," she said with annoyance. "The leader of a gang of six dwarfs that used to carry out high-profile robberies above ground, using a circus as a front for their stolen jewelry. Artemis, Mulch and I were involved with taking them out back before the Goblin Uprising, all over some silly Fei Fei tiara."

"Indeed," Trouble replied, now at her elbow. "Though at the time you and that boy were not the best of friends, you managed to facilitate their arrest. They were subsequently imprisoned in Haven, where they stayed for years before the war enabled them to escape. They have been missing ever since."

"But you've found them now, haven't you?"

Foaly made a peculiar expression. "Not necessarily. It would be a lie to say that we, meaning the LEP, located them. Unlike goblins, dwarfs are extremely crafty, and types such as Sergei take it to a whole new level. For us to find them while they are laying low would be like trying to hear a sweartoad in a B'wa Kell bar on a Friday."

Holly knew where this was going. "So you contracted some expert assistance."

A sour look came over Foaly's face. "Mulch Diggums."

Trouble nodded, a little bit of indignation in his eyes. "There has been increasing pressure from the council to track down this particular group, mainly because of their history of interacting with humans, which is a recipe for disaster. Given how well they evaded our operatives, we figured it would be best to employ someone who thought like them."

"And smelled like them," Foaly added.

Holly nodded. It all made sense of course, and the fact that Mulch was involved was completely ordinary. In order to catch a dwarf, you needed to think like one. And when it came to that there was no better candidate than the kleptomaniac legend who had been pushing the LEP's buttons for centuries. Mulch had been given a clean record for his efforts in the war, and had launched his own reality television show to boot. Needless to say, he had been far too busy gracing the screen to break any laws, or at least that was what most thought. Holly knew better.

"So, how on earth did you convince him to do the job? Surely the council wouldn't agree to hand over some of our gold reserves, especially to Mulch. They'd sooner give up their pensions."

Trouble shook his head. "No charge, but I suspect he has something to gain, given that these are dwarfs he is going after. Quid pro quo he gives us their location, and in return he steals everything he can get his hands on."

Holly couldn't help but grin. "That's Mulch alright, though I'm surprised he didn't demand a statue made in the likeness of his image. Or perhaps a few streets named after him."

"Don't mention that around him, we don't need him getting any ideas!" Foaly said anxiously.

"It doesn't matter now," Trouble interjected, motioning to the screen, "Because the operation has taken an unexpected turn for the worse. Mulch managed to track them down, but in the process he was compromised. I don't know how it happened, but he got himself caught. All of the bugs we had planted on him were fried during his capture, so we don't know his current status."

Mulch getting into trouble was a common occurrence, but it was rare that he ever got into real trouble. Sergei and his subordinates despised him for what he did, for posing as one of their own and ruining their operation. They would certainly want to take their revenge, meaning that Mulch was in a real and present danger of being brutally murdered. This worried Holly a lot, because unlike most LEP personnel she actually liked Mulch. She had worked alongside him in the private eye business for quite a while, and the dwarf had always played a part in their adventures, particularly the events surrounding Opal's return. Had it not been for Mulch, they may well have not made it at all. He may be a pain in the rear, but he's also one hell of a compatriot. Holly glared at the screen now, her previous mood replaced by a serious focus.

"Where is he?"

"In the Pamir Mountains, Tajikistan," Foaly said immediately. "Sergei has been busy over the last year. According to our intel from Mulch, his gang has been running a major drug operation. Bordering on Afghanistan, the largest producer of illicit opium in the world, they have managed to build a small but no less dangerous drug empire, acquiring opium through fronts connected with crime syndicates in Afghanistan, and using stolen fairy biotechnology to process it into opiates of such quality that there is no competition. The product is a sellout, and Sergei makes a point to make transactions in gold. Hence, he and his colleagues are manufacturing and distributing narcotics in exchange for huge amounts of wealth. It's a slam dunk without morals, just like Wall Street. Quite a jolly bunch."

Holly mulled it over. With an operation as profitable as this there was no room for error. Sergei had a lot to lose, and loose ends were a liability where Mulch was concerned. She turned to Trouble. "I assume a conventional response is not wise, but we need to act now!"

The commander shook his head. "Dropping a retrieval team on them is risky. They have Mulch as a potential hostage. If push comes to shove, they will kill him without hesitation." He paused. "Mulch doesn't elicit many warm feelings within me. If anything he makes me nauseous due to his lack of respect for the law. However, as commander I am responsible for what happens to him, and he also did a lot for us a year ago and in previous troubles. I can't let him die."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"That's why you're here."

Holly knew that much already, but it never hurt to ask. A rescue operation would indeed be risky, especially in such an extreme environment, but that only made it even more appealing. Living on the edge was her raison d'être, and new challenges were always welcome. Nevertheless, she couldn't do it alone, not that she intended to. She was dealing with a group of hardcore criminals, killers with untold amounts of wealth and assets. They were likely well armed, experienced, and more than anything, brutal. She would need some company, someone who knew this sort better than anyone, someone who had once been like them. Holly begot a knowing grin. There's only one person who I would trust with that.

This was a job for Artemis Fowl.

Fowl Manor, Ireland

The spring sunrise washed over the Irish countryside, the cool dew that coated the verdant meadows glistening in its brilliant light like millions of little gems. The morning sky, not afflicted by clouds or the obtrusive creations of man, was an alluring canvas of red, yellow, and orange, the sun burning gloriously beneath it, just cresting the lush hillside. With the warmth of the dawn came the lively song of birds, cheerful and clear from the treetops, free from all worries and doubts. Amidst the awakening world loomed the ancient form of Fowl Manor, a brilliant sight of its own in the morning light, magnificent in its design, and accentuated by the vibrant beauty that surrounded it. Home to the Fowl line for generations, its legacy was as rich as the colors of the sky, and its secrets as boundless as the stars.

Artemis Fowl the Second observed the sunrise with an appreciative eye—as a child he had never looked upon the world as he did now, but now he saw its beauty, and drank it up contently. He was ensconced in his study, sitting in the same comfortable chair he had used for as long as he could remember, cast in thought as he usually was. His laptop's screen glowed gently in front of him, with volumes of notes and research precisely situated upon the old Victorian desk; a wide assortment of knowledge and discovery. It was early morning, but he was wide awake, never one to let such hours slip away without being properly used. After all, time flees.

Taking his eyes from the window and the golden sunrise it viewed, Artemis continued his work, silently noting the date on the bottom-right corner of the screen. It had been a year already. A year! And yet it felt like yesterday, the memories of his past adventures being of such vibrancy that they were as immediate as the morning weather forecast. He smiled slightly as he thought back on it all, reflecting on what had happened since then. Surely time had been fleeting, for even though he was back to what he quantified as a normal life, he was as busy as ever, with each day gone before he knew it. But that was fine, because he was Artemis Fowl, and he accomplished more than enough with each passing hour. His time had been spent doing many things, all of which were beyond the understanding of most professionals. He had given up acquiring doctorates and other such academic credentials, for really they did nothing to improve the world; they were only fancy pieces of paper meant to prove something, and he didn't have to prove anything. He already had a binder full of them. Instead he had occupied himself with changing the world, researching everything from cures for diseases to new discoveries in all fields of academic study. Currently he was working on a viable treatment for Alzheimer's disease, though his work was currently in its preliminary stages. However, he was confident he would find a way. After all, he was a genius.

The glare on the screen, caused by the morning light, made it so that Artemis could see his reflection. The absence of a hazel eye, now gone due to his cloned body, reminded him of an old friend. Major Holly Short. A day doesn't go by without that name occurring to me. I wonder what she's up to now. No doubt she's avoiding the vexing task of police paperwork, but to what avail? He grinned. Holly was one of his greatest joys in life, a true friend. She was, and always would be, the best thing that had ever happened to him, for without her he would have never changed; he would have remained the cold child he had once been, a danger not only to himself, but to the world.

Artemis went back to his work, now ignoring his reflection and concentrating on the data before him. A few minutes of utter silence passed, disturbed by no one. His family, meaning his parents and brothers, were currently on a vacation, leaving him and the Butlers to their own devices. Apparently Myles and Beckett had wanted to go to Disneyland. They would certainly raise a little hell, and possibly the U.S. government's defense readiness condition by a few notches. The absence of their noisy adventures was bittersweet, for he loved them very much, but at least it granted him some peace of mind.

The silence wore on for an hour, and then a beeping sound shattered it, eliciting a slight grin from Artemis. He knew that sound, in fact he had been waiting for it for days now. The boy pulled open a drawer, revealing a fairy communicator. Its interface had lit up, flashing to match the sound it was producing. He took it, eying the incoming transmission ID with delight. It was Holly. He wasted no time in answering.

"Major Holly Short, what a pleasant surprise," he said immediately, faking indifference. "I do have a voice mail, perhaps you can leave a message. I am dreadfully preoccupied with a very important piece of research."

"You're terrible at faking, you know that right?" Holly replied.

Artemis smiled. It was good to hear her voice. He looked into the reflection on his screen, noting something in the background. "You know, I would have to say the same thing about your stealth skills. You can unshield now, Major. You're Machiavellian plan to startle me has failed, though I commend your efforts."

There was a shimmering in the air behind him, followed by a wave of heavy distortion as the elf—suited up in full recon gear—materialized into the visible spectrum. She was hovering, her wings completely silent, and was only a few feet from him. With a triumphant grin on his face Artemis turned to look at her. "And here I thought you needed permission to enter my humble abode."

Still hovering at eye level, Holly removed her helmet, revealing her recklessly beautiful face, her slightly mangled auburn hair, and her stunning mismatched eyes.

"Butler let me in," she said, hovering closer to him.

"Oh, I see," Artemis said, still acting aloof. He was about to add something witty onto his utterance when he felt a burning sensation in his left shoulder, followed by his brain's realization that Holly had indeed, for the millionth time, punched him. He instinctively clutched the throbbing shoulder. "Hey! What was that for?"

Holly's expression remained serious. "You ruined a perfectly good prank. Foaly was going to record it, and disseminate it around the office for our collective amusement. He bet an entire crate of carrots that you would scream like a little girl, but now his hopes and dreams are shattered."

"Oh..."

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, both appearing to be incredibly serious. Holly was the first to break, her firm expression trembling before falling apart entirely, becoming one of pure amusement as she burst into laughter. Artemis followed almost immediately, his poker face much less formidable than he had anticipated. They laughed for a full twenty seconds, so hard that their abdominal muscles were burning, and when they were finished they needed a few moments to catch their breath. Naturally, Holly did so faster.

"It's good to see you, Arty," she said friendlily, her smile wide and vivacious.

Artemis, still breathing hard, returned the smile without even knowing. "It's good to see you too. You have no idea how draining all this work can be."

"Oh I do," the elf replied, a sour look crossing her face. "I tried doing paperwork for the first time in months. Procurement's going to need to order more pens." She grinned mischievously, and it made Artemis feel all the more alive.

It's been far too long.

They talked for a few minutes, Holly powering down her wings and taking a seat in one of the study's many lounge chairs. There was so much catching up to do, even for a few weeks of separation; they both lived lives that moved at break-neck speeds, where even days could contain changes that made a world of difference. Holly filled him in on her latest escapades, while Artemis let her in on the secrets of his current projects. They fascinated each other in their own separate ways, one with genius, and the other with extraordinary tales. Artemis enjoyed the smalltalk immensely, but he knew that there had to be another reason for her showing up—her gear stated the obvious.

"I take it you need my help?" he said finally, but carefully so as to not be blunt. "Or do you always pay friendly visits with enough hardware to fight a small war?"

Holly frowned a little. A more serious look came across her face, though it was not overbearing. "Yes. We have need of your skills."

Artemis steepled his fingers, his interest piqued. "Pourquoi?"

Holly filled him in on the matter at hand, not missing a single detail—every detail was another piece that Artemis could use to formulate a plan. When she was done, the prodigy mulled it over in silence.

"Well then, it would seem that our kleptomaniacal friend could use some assistance," he finally said. "Butler, I assume the preparations have been made?"

The study door opened silently, and through it came the massive bodyguard. He was a little older than before, but no less intimidating; he was a Butler, and Butlers never lost their ability to scare people to death. Looming before them like a skyscraper, he nodded. "Juliet is just finishing up packing our ordnance. Holly already briefed me before she came in to see you, so I have already designated the necessary tools." He came up beside them, an excited glimmer in his eyes. "It's been a while since we've gone on a business trip. We're ready when you are, Artemis."

"Excellent, old friend," Artemis said calmly. He looked out the window, where the sun had cleared the green hills, and was now glowing over the lush landscape. It was going to be a beautiful day. "Well then," he began, a vampiric grin slowly growing across his face, "Let's get to work."

Author's Note:

So begins another story (with a generically structured prologue). For the purpose of the next chapter I would like to note that Sergei the Significant is from Colfer's more obscure supplementary work "The Artemis Fowl Files", just in case anyone was wondering who he was. Please review, for I very much enjoy your thoughts.

John Creel