A/N: First fanfic. Please be nice. WARNING: NOT Artemis/Holly.

Artemis Fowl: The Brigand Misconception

Chapter One: Buonarotti's Final Masterpiece

There has been a rumor as of late that one of many Michelangelo Buonarotti's final architectural sketches for St. Peter's Basilica has been found, miraculously unscathed by anything. Because of this, the sketch is often called, "Buonarotti's Final Masterpiece", to avoid the publicity of such a rare art piece. This specific work is known by nearly millions of people. However, only less than half believe in its existence. And approximately fifty people know that it is real, but only a handful of people know where it supposedly resides. And only one person knows where the real sketch is. And that person is Artemis Fowl II.

The young Fowl had expertly stolen the red chalk sketch from the museum curator in the London Museum on a school trip for St. Bartleby's School For Young Gentlemen. Artemis had suggested the trip to his father, who thought it a splendid idea. The senior donated a rather generous amount of money to the school, and, naturally, Principal Guiney was all too ready to receive such.

Playing the role of an average adolescent boy, he separated himself from the group and wandered around until he found the curator's office. Artemis hadn't needed a particularly complex plan. He had the help of his loyal bodyguard, Butler. Artemis had managed to find out the schedule for the arrival of the Buonarotti sketch. He planned it specifically so that their group would be visiting the museum the same day the sketch was to arrive. He had hired an artist to make a very, very good copy of the sketch. Although, if an expert were to look closely, he could fairly tell that this was just a copy. Of course, he would always have his doubts on its authenticity. But by then, Artemis would already have the sketch hanging in his personal study.

However, Artemis was not admiring the great architectural feat at the moment. He was currently in County Wicklow, in St. Bartleby's School For Young Gentlemen, participating in his Equestrianism Class. He wasn't particularly enjoying this class, despite the fact that he was excelling above the rest of the class. Well, almost the rest of the class. The French exchange student, Dominic Jean Adroit, was equal with the Irish youth in this class. He was startling intelligent, which caused Artemis to become suspicious of the boy.

You see, Artemis had been (embarrassingly) stolen from a few weeks ago. The object stolen was none other than, "Buonarotti's Final Masterpiece". The thief was smart, beating the security system the younger Fowl had designed himself. This person had worn gloves, so as not to leave any fingerprints. He had also presumably infiltrated the house under the disguise of a maid, perhaps, since this person had easy access to the study. Artemis had no idea how this person managed to crack the code to access his study. He had used the language of the People, or Gnommish, as the language of the code. And even if the person did miraculously manage to know the Gnommish alphabet, it would still be rather difficult to guess an eight-letter code. The permutations would be too much.

Artemis had deduced his intruder to be one of the staff. However, how they gained the code was unfathomable to him. The code was actually a combination of nonsensical letters, but only if read from left to right or the other way around. The code would still have to be rearranged in a specific order, thus making the code nearly impossible to crack. Only Artemis could have unlocked it. Butler suggested the possibility of one of the security cameras capturing it as he typed it down. However, Artemis had made sure that there was an exact spot in front of the door that was the blind spot of all sixteen hidden cameras. If one were to move so much as a centimeter too backward or too forward, the security would have immediately caught your image.

The reason why Artemis was at St. Bartleby's and not tracking down the thief was because, as shameful as it is, he needed help. He had received word from Detective Holly Short, a good friend of his from the People, that there was another individual who knew about the People. This person was only ten years old when she had found out about the hidden race underneath the earth. The file, however, was kept from being published by the late Commander Julius Root. He felt no need to let the citizens of Haven City panic, and the Mud Girl had promised to keep quiet about it. And she had.

Artemis sought her help. For, not only was a priceless, authentic (not to mention rare) Michelangelo sketch was stolen, but also the object kept within the canvas was a secret safe. That object was a copy of the Book of the People. If that thief were to find out about the safe, the entire world would be at stake, sending the tiny planet into utter chaos. Artemis had to prevent that from happening. Naturally, he hadn't told any of his fairy friends yet. He felt the need to gather all of the people he needed before explaining the situation to them.

Now, Artemis was watching the French exchange student with suspicion. It wasn't that the criminal mastermind had suspected the French youth of stealing the painting. He believed the boy to actually be a girl in disguise, specifically the girl he sought the help of.

Artemis studied the supposed French exchange student closely. His fingers looked much too feminine to be that of a male's. Also his shoulders. They weren't broad enough to be a male's. His posture as well, and his personality in the school was suspicious. Artemis doubted the person would realize himself, but he had too many characteristics of a woman showing. One thing, however, that stopped Artemis from approaching the boy was his voice. It was a rich, deep tenor. Not at all like that of a female's.

"Perhaps Dominic isn't the person you were looking for," Butler's voice suggested through his ear. Artemis adjusted the earpiece and covered his ear with his raven hair. There was a microphone in the shape of some sort of bandage on his neck that blended well with his skin color, care of fairy technology. To the naked eye, nobody could tell it was even there.

"No," he whispered quietly, leading his horse away from his classmates. It wouldn't do well to have them thinking he was some raving lunatic who talked to himself, since they already thought him a pathological liar. "I'm certain that this supposed French student is her. They have the same descriptions as the file stated."

Butler remained silent on the other end. There was no changing Master Artemis's mind once it was set on something. The Eurasian man heard the soft whinny of his charge's horse as he presumably sped off to the obstacle course. Artemis had asked Butler not to stay with him in the school grounds. However, the bodyguard insisted that he remain in contact with the young boy, despite the fact that Artemis highly doubted there would be any trouble in an open school.

After the class was dismissed, Artemis expertly climbed off his horse, and dusted his riding uniform. While the rest of the boys were treading to the main building, Artemis remained behind, immediately noticing the absence of the exchange student among the large flock of boys. He looked inside the stables, immediately finding the tall boy stroking the horse's long, black mane.

"Do you speak English?" Artemis asked in French in a nearly authentic French accent.

The boy regarded the Irish apprehensively before replying, "Oui,"

"I suppose you've heard of me?" Artemis asked in his natural Irish accent.

"Oui. You are well-known in my family as, 'Le Enfant Voleur'," he said. "Do not take it personally, however. Mon mama et papa are very vertueux, or just, as you Irish say it."

"Yes, well, I assure you I've changed my ways. But there is something I need to ask you." Artemis stepped closer, ready to embarrass himself if his theory was wrong. Before the French student could reply, Artemis reached out and grabbed hold of his throat. He hadn't held it tight enough for the boy to choke, but enough to alarm him. Artemis felt a fist punch his stomach, effortlessly pushing him back and onto the floor. But Artemis had found what he was looking for.

"My apologies—" the brown-haired boy (rather, girl) froze mid-sentence, realizing the change in her voice. She clutched her throat in a panic. "My microphone!" She cried in an Irish accent.

Artemis stood, dusting himself expertly and trying, but not succeeding, in hiding his pain from the blow. "I suspected you had a microphone somewhere on your throat. However, I was sadly mistaken as you hid the microphone behind your ear."

The girl looked at him, a scowl gracing her rather beautiful features. It was bothering, for Artemis, to be going through this stage of puberty (in which one was often distracted by the sight of a pretty girl), especially since his next associate was going to be a girl. "How did you know that I was really in disguise?" she demanded, her voice now a pitch between soprano and alto.

"I have my sources," Artemis said offhandedly. "Besides, I need your help with something. I know you're a child prodigy, as your parents modestly boasted when you were but a baby."

"If you think I'm going to assist you in anything—"

"Well, if you don't, your secret would be at risk."

Her green eyes lighted up with renewed anger. "You play dirty, Fowl."

"I doubt you've never done so. Back to the topic at hand, I need to see if you are who I'm looking for. What is your name?"

"Surely, the boy genius must have known that already."

"Perhaps Principal Guiney would enjoy knowing he's been duped by a fifteen-year-old girl."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Olivia Antoinette Moineau."

Artemis smiled his vampire smile. "Good. Now, birth date?"

"What, do you know that as well?" she asked, faking skepticism. "Really, Fowl, I'm starting to get frightened."

"Exactly for how long do plan on bombarding me with your sarcasm?"

"Oh, perhaps until you tire of it. September 2, 1989."

"Hmm, you seem to be the Olivia Moineau I need. One last test," He reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. He handed it to her, and watched her eyes grow large as she read the content. "My sources have told me that you know this language," Artemis explained.

Olivia shoved the paper back to him. "I don't know what you're talking about. This looks like rubbish to me."

Artemis was not wavering. "I assure you, this is no joke. If you can translate it, then do so. I know quite a bit of your capabilities, Olivia. And this one I'm quite sure of. If you want to continue to lie to me, I will be forced to tell the principal, and your father as well, about this."

Olivia shot him a nasty glare that immediately made Artemis begin to doubt about whether he should be stooping so low. She snatched the paper back and read it. She handed it back to him without a word.

"Yes?" Artemis prodded.

"St. Bartholomew's Medical School in London," she answered.

Artemis smiled genuinely. "Correct. And what was the question?"

Olivia finally met his icy, blue eyes. " 'From which school did the famous assistant of Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, graduate from?' "

"Astute memory, I see," Artemis noted. "You are certainly the Olivia Moineau I've been searching for."

Olivia sat stiffly next to Artemis in the elongated car. She didn't trust him. Naturally, no one would ever trust someone who grabbed their throat suddenly. Olivia would hardly dare to trust anybody but herself.

Beside her, Artemis was examining his manicured nails in a casual manner. Obviously, he noticed his new associate's behavior. "Why don't you relax?" Artemis asked offhandedly. "It wouldn't do you any good to be so tense."

"I don't trust you, Fowl," she muttered nastily.

"Clearly," he replied. "If I were in your position, I wouldn't trust me at all."

"What do you want with me, Artemis? You're a boy genius, and you're rich. What on earth would you need me for?"

Artemis tried to look up ahead, noticing his manor nearby. "We'll discuss this in the manor. Don't try to think of this as some sort of kidnapping. Remember, you came rather willingly."

"Only because you threatened to reveal my secret to Principal Guiney and my parents."

He smiled evilly at her. "Another factor, yes. But you have to admit that you are rather interested in what I need from you."

Olivia glared at him. "All right. Fine. But if I decline—"

"I assure you that you will not feel the need to do so. However, if you do, I will have your memory wiped, so that our entire encounter will be replaced by made-up memories."

"I don't trust you to delve into my mind and erase my memories."

"No one does. But they always go through with it in the end."

Olivia opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, car stopped moving, and Butler immediately left to open the door on Olivia's side. As he held it out, Olivia tried not to gape at the huge manor before her. Artemis slid out from behind her, standing behind her, a mere four inches taller than her. "Home, sweet home," He muttered.

"Well, it's certainly a rather large home," Olivia couldn't help but comment.

He nodded and led her into the house, passing suits of armor and famous paintings. He stopped in front of two slightly maroon mahogany doors. After he typed his password into the touch-screen pad and watched the light switch from red to green, he gallantly held one door open. "Make yourself at home," he said as she entered into his private study.

The first thing Olivia noticed was the red velvet colored walls. There was an oak desk in the middle of the room, along with a modern designed swivel chair behind it. Around her, several computers shone while their CPU's lights blinked on and off below famous portraits. In front of the desk was a terribly out of place maroon armchair. On the desk, a closed laptop sat, its Apple logo a dull white. Far beside that, a tea set was laid out. The fancy teapot was pouring out steam beside two matching teacups. Beside that rested a plate of biscuits and scones.

Olivia sat on the armchair, while Artemis took his seat in front of his wooden desk. Butler stood at the door, awaiting his charge's orders. "That will be all, Butler," the young boy dismissed. "But—" Artemis tapped his ear nearly unnoticeably. The move did not go unperceived by Olivia. Butler nodded and immediately left the room.

"You want him to listen in on our conversation?" Olivia asked.

Artemis was not surprised. It had been a test really, and yet also the truth. Butler was going to listen in on the conversation. But Artemis was testing her to see if she was really what her file said she was. "Yes. There are cameras planted around the room, just in case you try anything on me."

Olivia sniffed haughtily. "Honestly, how ridiculous do you think I am?" But she was already planning something.

"I don't think that at all. Now, are you thirsty? It would be a waste if you didn't drink the tea. It was imported from England."

"How do I know you didn't put anything in it?" She asked, standing to get the porcelain cup.

"I didn't. Ask the maids yourself. They're the ones who made it," Artemis said confidently.

Olivia made her way to behind the desk, examining the steaming hot cups of tea. She half-sat on the desk, pretending to look into the translucent liquid. With a look of relief, she took the cup. And then immediately yelped in pain, dropping the cup onto her host.

Artemis released an uncharacteristic bark of pain, and stood up. Immediately, the door burst open revealing a breathless Butler. "Did anything happen? I thought I heard—"

"Nothing's wrong," Artemis said, offhandedly. "Miss Moineau was merely conducting a test. Please have the maids bring me another suit."

Butler nodded, muttering his apologies, and closed the door behind him.

"So, there are no cameras, as I suspected," Olivia said triumphantly.

Artemis smiled. "I suspected you were planning something. However, I did not expect this," he said, ruefully looking down at his tea-stained suit.

"My sincerest apologies. I had to think fast, and this was the best idea I came up with. I figured that if I spill the cup of tea on you, your natural reaction would be a scream of some sort, automatically alerting Butler had he been listening in. However, if there were cameras, I highly doubt Butler would have come running in. Simple, really."

There was a knock and a maid came in with a suit. She laid it on the armchair and left the room immediately.

"Yes. Well thought out. Now, back to the matter at hand," Artemis said, examining the suit if it was the correct one. Satisfied, he laid it back down and turned to Olivia. "I need your assistance with this because you're the only other person in the world who knows of the object hidden within the stolen object."

"Exactly what was stolen, Artemis?"

"A sketch of Michelangelo Buonarotti. His last one before his death, to be precise. It is an architectural sketch of a column in St. Peter's Basilica."

Olivia's eyebrows rose disbelievingly. "Isn't that extremely rare?"

"Obviously. Not to mention extremely expensive," Artemis muttered. "But that's not the major problem going on here. The problem is that sketch is actually a safe. And you can probably take a guess at what is hidden in that safe."

Something in Olivia's mind clicked. "Artemis…"

"Yes?"

"Are you trying to tell me that…"

"That?"

"That you've hidden the Book of the People inside that painting?"

"Correct. There is an upside to this, however. Ever since a dwarf managed to find out about the secret safe, I've enhanced the security on the safe without managing to noticeably alter the weight of the painting. It basically looks like the back of an ordinary portrait. The Book is contained in a small memory chip locked inside the thin lid to open up and retrieve the portrait. Technically, nobody but I should be able to notice it."

"So, at this very moment, the balance between the two worlds is hanging by a thread?"

"Basically, yes."

Olivia rubbed her temples. "Does the LEP know about this yet?"

"No. I've yet to tell them actually. It was a coincidence, really, that Detective Short told me about you before the crime was committed. She had even sent me the file when I asked for it a week afterwards."

"And she wasn't suspicious?"

"Not at all." Artemis paused. "We're… friends, now."

Olivia folded her arms across her chest, her usual thinking position. "I suppose you've already chosen your suspects?"

"Naturally," he said, sitting back down on his swivel chair. He opened up his laptop and typed in his password, hands flying over the keyboard in a blurry movement. He clicked a minimized window, and turned to his new partner.

"I narrowed the suspects to four people. The first one is Benjamin Ambrose Greene, the 21-year-old son of an English businessman and an avid art collector." Artemis directed the mouse over to a folder and opened a document, immediately showing a picture of a blonde, gray-eyed man. "He's currently taking the business course in the London Metropolitan College. However, he left school for his summer holidays four months earlier than the usual date to join the launching of his father's new cruise business."

"How is he a suspect? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"He is an art collector, as I've said. He was also one of the people who publicly showed his interest in Buonarotti's Final Masterpiece. A rare piece of art like Michelangelo's last masterpiece would be enough to make an art collector like Greene salivate with envy. He's also one of the people who is quite aware of my father's and my own criminal activities. I suppose I should also mention the fact he was a grudge against me for outbidding him in an art auction of El Greco's original paintings."

"I see. And you think he knows that you've taken the sketch."

"Correct."

Olivia examined the man's face. "I suppose that you've already bought the tickets?" She asked, turning to Artemis.

He smiled. "You know me so well already. We'll be going under the personas of French businessmen, since you can already play such a role so well, and also because the launching is exclusive to businessmen only. Butler will be posing as our uncle, who just so happens to not have any children of his own. And since you and I look nothing alike, we will be going in as cousins."

Olivia nodded, trying to take this all in. She'd done operations like this before, but nothing so extreme as this. Artemis stood from his chair, allowing her to sit and scroll through his background, committing it to memory. The Irish boy pressed a small black button on the underside of his desk.

A minute later, Butler appeared at the door. "I've briefed her for our plan already, old friend," said Artemis. "We must get ready as quickly as possible. The cruise departs from Brighton next week, Tuesday." It didn't leave much time for Butler to gather the passports, IDs, and other documents. It was already Thursday.

"Artemis," Olivia called, her eyes still on the screen of the laptop, "how do you plan on getting the information we need out of him? I don't think he'd be willing to tell us everything, especially if he does have the painting."

"I know," Artemis replied. "I've thought of that already. This is where you come in. You will have to get close enough to him. Gain his trust, and everything will come to you. You're a female, and you're certainly not hideous looking. He'll fall for you easily."

"Surely, you don't expect a twenty-one year old man to be so easily seduced by a fifteen-year-old girl."

"I don't. Which is why we're going under the ages of eighteen. We've both the height for such roles. Now," he pulled out a list of items, "these are the things we'll be needing for such a trip. Butler has already prepared some of these items. Those will be the ones crossed out."

Olivia nodded, receiving the long sheet of paper.

"Oh," Artemis said. "And one last thing: pack lightly. We're going somewhere warm."

The Moineau's were from Ireland. Jonathan's great, great, great, great grandfather had been born there. They were descendants of the French archer, Anton de Adroit, who later on became a duke. The man earned the nickname, "Moineau" (which is French for, "sparrow",) for the misconceptions by victims that his hostile arrows were merely harmless birds. Due to confusion, though, his last name was mistaken to be Moineau. As his line continued, one of Duke Anton's sons had fled to Ireland, escaping a plan of assassination in France. And thus the Moineau line continued in the green country.

Now, the current Moineau's were rich, far richer than their ancestor had been. They were intelligent, and skilled in archery, as their ancestor had been. The youngest of the Moineau line was Olivia Antoinette Moineau. Born on the 2nd of September, Olivia held her father's lovely green eyes, and her mother's wavy, brown hair. She was intelligent for her age, having been able to build a computer by the age of six. She was well educated, as most heiresses should be. She knew how to cook, sew, manage accounts, play a number of various instruments, speaking numerous languages, and much more. She had one of the highest IQ's in the world, lagging 0.5 points behind criminal mastermind, Artemis Fowl II.

Her parents were businessmen, owning dozens of companies, but keeping their ownership of such discreet. Olivia's mother died of tuberculosis when she was only three. Now, Frederick Moineau struggled to watch over his daughter. This deemed nearly impossible since he was usually away on business trips that sometimes lasted to over half a year. As a solution, he sent her away to Madame Monica's Academy For Talented Women, in Lyons, France. He thought that she would be well taught there, and also watched over carefully.

He had no idea exactly how intelligent his daughter was. After studying there for two years and completing the curriculum for her grade and higher levels, she eventually grew tired of learning the same things over and over. When summer ended and her third year at Madame Monica's dawned, Olivia followed her father's instructions to go to France with a planned already plotted. With her father watching her as she left for France, she would have no way to drive to another boarding school. So she boarded the plane to France, and, in her father's eyes, it would seem as if she was following his instructions as usual. However, by then, she had already sent an email to Madame Monica through her father's account, stating that her school was not good enough for his darling daughter.

With Olivia not expected at Madame Monica's, she would stay in Lyons for a night, and then depart for Ireland the next morning in her disguise. With her driver waiting for her under discretion at the airport, she was going to be driven to County Wicklow to St. Bartleby's School For Young Gentlemen, claiming to be one of her many alter egos, Dominic James Adroit, the son of a wealthy lawyer.

Olivia was busily rummaging through her trunk for clothes that were appropriate for the cruise. However, her trunk only contained the clothes she needed for St. Bartleby's. In other words, they were all male clothing. She let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through her hair. This wouldn't do, she thought. They were already on a limited time, and she highly doubted the Artemis would allow her to let her drive home to retrieve her clothes.

All of sudden, there was a knock on the door, and Artemis entered.

"I've no proper clothing for this," Olivia blurted before he could say anything.

Expecting an annoyed look and a lecture on how she should be more prepared, Olivia released a relieved sigh when he merely nodded at her. "I suspected as much," he said. "Butler will be willing to drive you to your home, while I handle some matters here at the manor. Merely direct him to the location, and he will take you there quickly. I take it your parent will be absent from there?"

She paused, thinking, and then nodded affirmatively. "Yes. Father's always away on business trips. He mentioned to me that he was going to be away for the remainder of my fifth term at Madame Monica's. We were supposed to spend the summer together in Spain."

"Good. Butler will drive you there in a few minutes," he said, checking his watch. "Get ready." He turned to leave when Olivia called him.

"Artemis?"

He paused and faced her. "Yes?"

She looked at him, long and hard, looking as if she wanted to tell him something, but couldn't. "I just—Thank you for not telling Principal Guiney or Father about what I've been doing."

He smiled at her. A smile that looked almost human and even sincere. "I wasn't planning on telling him at all. I may be a criminal mastermind, but I won't stop people from going after what they want."

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think. :)