Orbis Non Sufficit
An Artemis Fowl X James Bond Crossover Fic
Compiled by B3y0nd
The events contained here are highly classified, and are not to be shared, under any circumstances whatsoever. In the future, if questioned, you will deny any knowledge of the existence of any and all of the subjects contained within this report.
This report contains the exploits of the famous criminal mastermind Artemis Fowl II, and occurs just after his successful kidnapping of the LEPrecon officer Holly Short. It concerns the mastermind's continued attempts at reviving his family's criminal enterprises, and the subsequent intervention of both the People's Finest, and a single, undoubtedly familiar MI6 Special Agent.
Legal Duties: No Person or Persons possessed herein are the property of either the compiler (B3y0nd) or his organization.
Artemis' face was a line of serious intensity.
"Is it real?"
"Yes." Answered his enormous bodyguard.
"Good." Artemis reached into his vest, pulling out three sheets of paper. "This is what you asked for."
The other criminal flipped through the pages. "Yes. Perfect."
Artemis mouth curved up as close as he ever got to smiling.
"Butler. Load up the gold."
A few minutes later, the duo drove away.
"Was that entirely wise?"
"Of course. Now I know the location of one of my rivals, and he has gained information that he could just as easily have acquired over the internet."
"You know his location?"
"I had a GPS emitter inserted between the paper and the forged seal of credibility. The police should be waiting for him when he gets home."
Butler smiled. The young Fowl was no less sinister than his father.
The Fowl family stood several million dollars richer. Artemis only traded in gold.
Nathaniel Rowle drove home on his customized motorcycle. Excited beyond belief, he ran up the stairs and into his large apartment. Flinging shut the door, he darted into the study. He flopped down into his chair, and booted his computer.
"Home so soon? We really don't enjoy moles, Rowle. Who gave you the papers?"
Rowle lifted his head. He knew the voice. It was death, or life in a frigid Siberian prison if this man was after you.
"I won't sell him out."
"Honor among thieves?" A single muffled snip echoed over the quiet room, and Nathaniel Rowle fell dead.
"Moles belong underground, Rowle."