*pokes butler* Oh come on, you promised you would say it!
Butler: No. I'm shy. Gimme back my Artemis doll. *hides beneath the bed* Me: Dommie, you can't hide under my bed, you're so big that none of the bed's legs are on the ground! Butler: Awwwwwwwww... *gives Bambi eyes* Me: Nope, you still gotta say it. *glares* Butler: Fine. sketchy neuron doesn't own me, or my wittle Artemis, or my ugly sister, or the entire cast of "Artemis Fowl" and she doesn't want any lawsuits, so leave her alone! Can I have my Artemis chibi back now?
Chapter Two
Butler grunted and stumbled out into the night in Dublin. He was suddenly, hopelessly lost, among the smeary signs outside of late-night cafes, and the head-pounding music of local discos. Feeling a sudden urge, he blundered to the nearest alleyway, and the beer ended up inside the nearest dumpster whose lid he could pull off in time.
He stood, in the alley smelling strongly of urine and trash, panting heavily, tasting the acid in his mouth from the vomit. The smell got stronger. Butler hadn't been this inebriated since he was thirty-seven, and Mr. Fowl had gone missing. Butler had drunk alcohol as though he firmly believed Christ's claim that it was holy, and wanted to become a saint through overdose. Juliet had managed then to get him off it, but it had taken a long time, and Butler had felt like hell. The responsibility of Artemis Jr. had also managed to call to his mind and put aside the bottle. Who was, ironically, the reason he was drinking right now.
He wasn't too surprised (drunk people rarely are) to see a blurry, furred head poke up through the hole he had made in his attempts to open the dumpster and snarl at him. He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the apparition and mumbled, "B'groff, you." (1)
Two seconds later Butler was convinced of the creature's reality, as it had pulled itself halfway through the tear in the metal and began to attack Butler - what it could reach of him, anyway. Which turned out to be Butler's head, shoulders, and the waving arm in its face.
Few things can anger as easily as an intoxicated Butler. This particular one had ingested enough alcohol to kill a giant bull elephant. The fact that Butler was still alive and mentally functioning while still having a seventy-five percent alcohol content in his blood was a tribute to biology and human evolution. At this point, Butler would have been set off by a mere tap on the shoulder. You never messed with a drunk Butler.
With a roar like an enraged panther, Butler grabbed at the animal, and attempted to grapple it to death with his bare hands. Immediately, his hands were shredded and bleeding openly, and Butler howled with pain and indignation. He hauled the emaciated cur out of the dumpster, cruelly indifferent to the rough edges peeling off mangy fur and skin, and tried to crush it under his full weight of three hundred pounds.
Above them, a patch of smog hovered indecisively, then a metallic click could have been heard echoing throughout the alleyway, if there had not been two snarling combatants entwined below. The haze lowered itself very carefully about two meters down, and waited tensely for an opening.
Butler smashed a heavy fist down on the writhing, thrashing thing, between the eyes, but it still seemed unfazed. It dug its short claws into his chest, and, using its back legs, pushed Butler off itself almost effortlessly. Butler smashed into a wall, painfully, along his back, cracking some of the mortar and bricks, and sending up a cloud of filth billowing up into the already polluted air. This seems familiar, thought the tiny bit of Butler that wasn't drunk or caught up in the action. It's like déjà vu, or something.
Meanwhile, the beast had managed to get back onto its feet, turn its head upwards, and roar at the sky, in the direction of the small vapor cloud. This pause in the battle gave the haze the chance it needed. A loud report blasted through the air in the narrow space. The brute dropped to the ground suddenly, like a cinderblock. Its eyes went opaque, and it shuddered, then went still. A small pool of crimson blood began to bubble up from the missing chunk of its head. A bullet could be seen among the bits of wet fur and the remains splattered across the broken slabs that made up the tiling of the alleyway. It glinted in the dim light from the street behind Butler.
Butler, who had seen a lot of violence before, in training and in protecting the Fowls, started to shiver uncontrollably. Seeing bodies at your feet was one thing. Seeing bits of them was quite another matter.
The haze shivered solid, and a two and a half foot figure in a uniform and a set of metal dragonfly wings in back floated down in front of a half-conscious Butler. Sighing deeply, the miniature being removed its helmet and proved to be what looked like a sixteen-year-old munchkin, minus the stupid clothing. Pushing a mat of tousled blonde hair out of his face and shaking his head to free a pair of pointy ears from their confinement, the strange humanoid tucked the helmet under his arm and turned to face the limp Butler leaning against the battered brick wall, staring at this newcomer.
"Private Axel of the LEP sir! Sorry for the lateness sir! but I wasn't allowed to break cover unless both you and Dirk were both in the shadows, and you were screened, and I didn't realize you'd go into the trash receptacle with Dirk in it, sir, and then I had to wait for an opening between the two of you. So, sir, very sorry sir!."
The puny human, no, it wasn't a human at all, he had seen something like it before. what WAS the thing, anyway?
While the youth rattled on and on about LEP and Dirk and his apologies, Butler did the only thing a seven foot tall, three feet wide, half drunk, perspiring, half conscious, exhausted, badly injured, lonely, confused person being bombarded with half memories, located in an alley smelling of a urinal in Grand Central Station, who has just met a flying midget toting a pistol, could do. He threw up again on Private Axel of the LEP.
Drunk for "Bugger off, you!"
*End of chapter 2*
Woo, this was a hard one to write. I have a movie-like mind, and it's hard to put down in words every single detail from the movie in my head into words. Not to mention that this entire chapter is in the time frame of five to eight minutes long. Also, you have to take into account that many different things are happening at the same exact moment. I find it amusing that the only words that Butler has spoken yet are slurred drunken swears. Did anyone pick up the pun with Axel's name? A cookie to whoever figures it out.
I've only once been to Europe - Amsterdam in Holland. Of course, I did go four years ago, so I only have vague memories, but I read a lot of literature on the image of London, and Dublin, so I try to keep Ireland as close to the real thing as possible. *sigh* I only saw Ireland from the airplane, and all I could see was that it was a.) Very green, b.) Very foggy, and c.) Green and foggy. Eh, I hope to go to Ireland some day. It's very improbable, as I never have any money, (Aster knows this) and must mooch off others. Ha. Be thankful for your allowance, people, cause not everyone gets it, lol.
Wow, I actually got reviewers. This is incredible. I can't believe you guys like the lame drunken butler chapter. But, eek. I didn't expect good reviews. Damn. I'll have to try harder to suck more next chapter. Lol. Maybe this chapter will do it.
Alex (beware of the blonde): I agree totally. You know, I started writing this fic only because some other person (damn them) came up with my other fic idea first, and I was frustrated at the severe lack of dommie-fics. But, I'm happy. They didn't write it well anyway. Ha. I didn't know I was that good at getting to describing people that well, thanks! ^_^
Demon sloth: No, this story sucks. No, this story sucks. *Hides in corner from assortment of attacking animals.* I will write more, don't hurt me! (Please?)
Cattail prophetess: What do you mean I punctuate? Just because I don't on AIM, doesn't mean I never punctuate. Whateva. Even though you already read this, I hope the complete story will satisfy your lust for drvnk guys, whoever they are. Lol.
Ok, I want five reviews this time. Sorry, but I'm suffering slightly from writer's block, and maybe something you people will say will help ease the pain and ease the next chapter along. I was really nice to you people, cause I knew what this chapter would have in it, but instead of withholding it from you guys another 3 days, I decided to let this one loose. I was home today anyway, so no nasty dorm blocks.
Butler: No. I'm shy. Gimme back my Artemis doll. *hides beneath the bed* Me: Dommie, you can't hide under my bed, you're so big that none of the bed's legs are on the ground! Butler: Awwwwwwwww... *gives Bambi eyes* Me: Nope, you still gotta say it. *glares* Butler: Fine. sketchy neuron doesn't own me, or my wittle Artemis, or my ugly sister, or the entire cast of "Artemis Fowl" and she doesn't want any lawsuits, so leave her alone! Can I have my Artemis chibi back now?
Chapter Two
Butler grunted and stumbled out into the night in Dublin. He was suddenly, hopelessly lost, among the smeary signs outside of late-night cafes, and the head-pounding music of local discos. Feeling a sudden urge, he blundered to the nearest alleyway, and the beer ended up inside the nearest dumpster whose lid he could pull off in time.
He stood, in the alley smelling strongly of urine and trash, panting heavily, tasting the acid in his mouth from the vomit. The smell got stronger. Butler hadn't been this inebriated since he was thirty-seven, and Mr. Fowl had gone missing. Butler had drunk alcohol as though he firmly believed Christ's claim that it was holy, and wanted to become a saint through overdose. Juliet had managed then to get him off it, but it had taken a long time, and Butler had felt like hell. The responsibility of Artemis Jr. had also managed to call to his mind and put aside the bottle. Who was, ironically, the reason he was drinking right now.
He wasn't too surprised (drunk people rarely are) to see a blurry, furred head poke up through the hole he had made in his attempts to open the dumpster and snarl at him. He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the apparition and mumbled, "B'groff, you." (1)
Two seconds later Butler was convinced of the creature's reality, as it had pulled itself halfway through the tear in the metal and began to attack Butler - what it could reach of him, anyway. Which turned out to be Butler's head, shoulders, and the waving arm in its face.
Few things can anger as easily as an intoxicated Butler. This particular one had ingested enough alcohol to kill a giant bull elephant. The fact that Butler was still alive and mentally functioning while still having a seventy-five percent alcohol content in his blood was a tribute to biology and human evolution. At this point, Butler would have been set off by a mere tap on the shoulder. You never messed with a drunk Butler.
With a roar like an enraged panther, Butler grabbed at the animal, and attempted to grapple it to death with his bare hands. Immediately, his hands were shredded and bleeding openly, and Butler howled with pain and indignation. He hauled the emaciated cur out of the dumpster, cruelly indifferent to the rough edges peeling off mangy fur and skin, and tried to crush it under his full weight of three hundred pounds.
Above them, a patch of smog hovered indecisively, then a metallic click could have been heard echoing throughout the alleyway, if there had not been two snarling combatants entwined below. The haze lowered itself very carefully about two meters down, and waited tensely for an opening.
Butler smashed a heavy fist down on the writhing, thrashing thing, between the eyes, but it still seemed unfazed. It dug its short claws into his chest, and, using its back legs, pushed Butler off itself almost effortlessly. Butler smashed into a wall, painfully, along his back, cracking some of the mortar and bricks, and sending up a cloud of filth billowing up into the already polluted air. This seems familiar, thought the tiny bit of Butler that wasn't drunk or caught up in the action. It's like déjà vu, or something.
Meanwhile, the beast had managed to get back onto its feet, turn its head upwards, and roar at the sky, in the direction of the small vapor cloud. This pause in the battle gave the haze the chance it needed. A loud report blasted through the air in the narrow space. The brute dropped to the ground suddenly, like a cinderblock. Its eyes went opaque, and it shuddered, then went still. A small pool of crimson blood began to bubble up from the missing chunk of its head. A bullet could be seen among the bits of wet fur and the remains splattered across the broken slabs that made up the tiling of the alleyway. It glinted in the dim light from the street behind Butler.
Butler, who had seen a lot of violence before, in training and in protecting the Fowls, started to shiver uncontrollably. Seeing bodies at your feet was one thing. Seeing bits of them was quite another matter.
The haze shivered solid, and a two and a half foot figure in a uniform and a set of metal dragonfly wings in back floated down in front of a half-conscious Butler. Sighing deeply, the miniature being removed its helmet and proved to be what looked like a sixteen-year-old munchkin, minus the stupid clothing. Pushing a mat of tousled blonde hair out of his face and shaking his head to free a pair of pointy ears from their confinement, the strange humanoid tucked the helmet under his arm and turned to face the limp Butler leaning against the battered brick wall, staring at this newcomer.
"Private Axel of the LEP sir! Sorry for the lateness sir! but I wasn't allowed to break cover unless both you and Dirk were both in the shadows, and you were screened, and I didn't realize you'd go into the trash receptacle with Dirk in it, sir, and then I had to wait for an opening between the two of you. So, sir, very sorry sir!."
The puny human, no, it wasn't a human at all, he had seen something like it before. what WAS the thing, anyway?
While the youth rattled on and on about LEP and Dirk and his apologies, Butler did the only thing a seven foot tall, three feet wide, half drunk, perspiring, half conscious, exhausted, badly injured, lonely, confused person being bombarded with half memories, located in an alley smelling of a urinal in Grand Central Station, who has just met a flying midget toting a pistol, could do. He threw up again on Private Axel of the LEP.
Drunk for "Bugger off, you!"
*End of chapter 2*
Woo, this was a hard one to write. I have a movie-like mind, and it's hard to put down in words every single detail from the movie in my head into words. Not to mention that this entire chapter is in the time frame of five to eight minutes long. Also, you have to take into account that many different things are happening at the same exact moment. I find it amusing that the only words that Butler has spoken yet are slurred drunken swears. Did anyone pick up the pun with Axel's name? A cookie to whoever figures it out.
I've only once been to Europe - Amsterdam in Holland. Of course, I did go four years ago, so I only have vague memories, but I read a lot of literature on the image of London, and Dublin, so I try to keep Ireland as close to the real thing as possible. *sigh* I only saw Ireland from the airplane, and all I could see was that it was a.) Very green, b.) Very foggy, and c.) Green and foggy. Eh, I hope to go to Ireland some day. It's very improbable, as I never have any money, (Aster knows this) and must mooch off others. Ha. Be thankful for your allowance, people, cause not everyone gets it, lol.
Wow, I actually got reviewers. This is incredible. I can't believe you guys like the lame drunken butler chapter. But, eek. I didn't expect good reviews. Damn. I'll have to try harder to suck more next chapter. Lol. Maybe this chapter will do it.
Alex (beware of the blonde): I agree totally. You know, I started writing this fic only because some other person (damn them) came up with my other fic idea first, and I was frustrated at the severe lack of dommie-fics. But, I'm happy. They didn't write it well anyway. Ha. I didn't know I was that good at getting to describing people that well, thanks! ^_^
Demon sloth: No, this story sucks. No, this story sucks. *Hides in corner from assortment of attacking animals.* I will write more, don't hurt me! (Please?)
Cattail prophetess: What do you mean I punctuate? Just because I don't on AIM, doesn't mean I never punctuate. Whateva. Even though you already read this, I hope the complete story will satisfy your lust for drvnk guys, whoever they are. Lol.
Ok, I want five reviews this time. Sorry, but I'm suffering slightly from writer's block, and maybe something you people will say will help ease the pain and ease the next chapter along. I was really nice to you people, cause I knew what this chapter would have in it, but instead of withholding it from you guys another 3 days, I decided to let this one loose. I was home today anyway, so no nasty dorm blocks.
