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Warehouse 9, the West End, Haven

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"Corporal Newt. Status check."

"Specify, Captain."

"Check nine."

"Negative, sir. Go fish."

"Damn." Captain Cirrus Gerdhart, formerly of the LEPRetrieval strike force, took another card from the deck.

Man, a few drops of Dwarf whiskey, a couple flattened goblins, a council member violated, a shaved cave troll, a leveled city block, and everybody goes wild, Cirrus thought peevishly.

Cirrus Gerdhart's story was famous within the inner circles of the LEP. He was once the most famed officer the LEP had ever seen, his resourcefulness rivaling that of the equally famous Captain Holly Short. The majority of the training videos at the Academy featured him as the demonstrator. The instructors there still told the story of how he had escaped from a Bwa'Kell Goblin hideout with nothing but a pen and a broken toothbrush. It was nothing spectacular, really. All he had done was pointed in a direction, shouted "Look! A diversion!", and ran the opposite direction. The pen had just happened to be in his pocket, and he had tripped over the toothbrush on the way out.

Not his most impressive accomplishment, Cirrus thought later, but still impressive if told with the correct embellishments.

It was just after this escape from the Bwa'Kell goblin hideout that the events leading his downfall occurred. He had just briefed Root on his mission, and headed out to the local bar, the Drunken Dwarf Dwelling with a few of his buddies to celebrate. Unfortunately, Corporal Newt had chosen this night to tag along, and challenge Cirrus to a drinking game. Cirrus, already quite tipsy, foolishly accepted. He lost horribly and went out on the town to vent his sorrow.

The rest, of course, is history.

A violated Council Member, three crushed goblins, a flattened city block, and a shaved cave troll later, Cirrus was demoted quite spectacularly.

Now, instead of glory, firefights, and setting pod records, he was reduced to this.

Warehouse stakeout. They didn't mention this in the job description. Quite possibly the most dull job in the entirety of the LEP workforce. So dull, in fact, the Cirrus would almost welcome a goblin gang, or a dwarf crew, anything that would dull the edge of his boredom.

There is an old adage among fairies. 'Be careful what you wish for'. The tale behind it involves a young sprite, and a giant hunk of gold. It's quite simple. The sprite wished for gold, and received it - particularly in the cranial area.

Unfortunately, this was not a well-known adage, and of course, Cirrus was completely unaware of it.

In the back of the warehouse, hidden shadows shifted ominously.

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A week  earlier, Tyr Castle, Great Britain

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Charles Tyr was rich. Filthy, filthy rich. So rich, that it almost disgusted him at times.

Almost.

But it wasn't enough. It never was, for a man like him. Charles wanted more. Much, much more. And after that?

He wanted a little more.

It was this drive that had spurred his decision to steal Manson Technology's latest invention. It had no name, simply a product number, and a tremendous result. Charles owned several biotechnology corporations. A little industrial espionage, a coupled strings pulled, and the substance was his, chilling in his lab downstairs.

His lab was his pride and joy. With prototype technology stolen and patented from all over the world, its technological advancement was without equal. Even its staff was the best. Jeffrey Lions, who was a former GE biotechnology researcher, was currently analyzing the properties of the stolen substance.

It was this man that occupied most of Charles' thoughts as he made his way down to the lab.

Jeffrey Lions seemed an enigma to him. When Charles had been developing his lab, he had cast out lines far and wide for the most experienced scientists around. Lions, the man he had most hoped to snare, had refused, despite offers of a doubled salary, and benefits that normal men only dreamed of.  Charles had offered and offered again, sending numerous agents, and even appeared in person once. Lions had quietly, but firmly refused each time, asserting that he was happy where he was.

Charles, uncharacteristically, had given up.

There was just something about the man. Jeffrey Lions was not physically imposing, by any means. He stood well under six feet, balding, bespectacled, slightly to fat. The assured, confident expression in his quiet brown eyes inspired respect - even in a man like Charles Tyr.

However, a month after the offers had stopped, Jeffrey had approached Charles, and asked for the job. Charles had given it to him, mostly because he was tired of the bumbling fool who he had given the position. He had never asked why Jeffrey changed his mind. Charles knew how such things were - he had been in the business too long not to.

But now, six years later, Charles had begun to wonder why.

The lab's reinforced door loomed before him, and he shook such thoughts from his mind, humming tonelessly as his security systems scanned his entire body to confirm his identity and check for bugs. A musical tone sounded, and Charles strode through the door to his lab. Jeffrey was the first person he saw, performing some obscure lab duty that Charles couldn't even begin to fathom.

"Well?"

Jeffrey looked up, his normally calm face lit with excitement. "It does everything you said it would, Charles. We've been testing it on various animals…increasing strength, increasing intelligence - even after stopping the dosage."

Charles's insides soared with triumph, but he kept calm. "Have you been able to duplicate it?"

Jeffrey shrugged. "Well…that's a problem. It's got some incredibly exotic compounds…there's even a few traces of Sodium Methane thirty-four. That's only found in the stomach of a few species of Howler monkeys in the Amazon. It's going to take us a while to get all of these ingredients, but it's only a matter of time. We'll have it soon."

"What about human testing?"

"Well…we haven't tried it, yet. You had said - "

"I know what I said, Jeff. I mean it, too."

There was a moment of tense silence, and Jeffrey shifted nervously.

"Well. Is it ready?"

"There's no way of knowing. Especially if you're to be the first test."

A hint of ire appeared in Charles's suddenly cold green eyes. The man was purposefully provoking him. And it was working.

"Damn it, Lions. I don't want some poncefooted theory, I want an honest assessment. Is it ready?"

Jeffrey nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes unreadable.

Without another word, Charles took the vial and strode out.

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en route to the Tara chute, Lower Elements

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Centaurs, Foaly had decided as he ran/staggered to his rusted transport, were not creatures of action. Years of vegetating in front of multiple computer screens had caused severe atrophy in the muscles of his legs. Running had become a thing of the past. What he was doing could only be described as a hopping walk, which drew amused hoots of laughter from passing fairies. 

Foaly could only pout and mark their names down on his virus hit list.

He yanked open the hatch of his Legacy 240 vehicle, wincing at the earsplitting keening that resulted. Rust fell in crimson showers. Grumbling disgruntledly, he climbed in.

The Tara shuttle port was only a few kilometers away. If he could beat rush hours he could -

Do nothing, as his car wouldn't start.

Foaly looked fantastically disgusted for a minute, then radioed in for a hovercraft.

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The Horatio, Tara Chute, same time

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Holly looked hopelessly depressed and sad.

Then again, so did the rest of the agents.

Juliet Butler had somehow managed to obtain an MP3 player, and was now singing along to Insync with a catlike voice.

Catlike, as in like a dying, yowling, cat.

The ride had been hell.

Artemis and Butler were conferring casually, obviously accustomed to Juliet's ululations. They looked a bit grim. Their chances for escape were slim to none. While Juliet was doing her best to distract them with her voice, they had explored the ship furtively, and found nothing. Surrounded by heavily armed LEP officers, their only fairy ally still encased in blue gel, Artemis Fowl was forced to do something he had never had to do before.

Submit to his fate.

At that moment, Juliet attempted to hit a high note three times in quick succession. Corporal Grub began weeping, and Juliet mistook it to mean her song had moved him to tears, and sang even louder.

Holly's eyes widened insanely. Trouble understood immediately, got out of the way, and took the joystick. She walked casually toward the mind wipe technology, and began gamely tugging it toward Juliet. Artemis took it upon himself to intervene.

"You do realize, Holly, that even if you erase her memory of the fairies, she will continue to sing?"

"Maybe so, Mud Boy, but I can at least knock her out with this heavy equipment."

At that moment, Captain Trouble interrupted.

"It's Foaly. He says he's got urgent news."

Holly looked at Trouble, then Juliet, who had not noticed anything and was still howling along to the music. She reluctantly threw down the equipment, and stomped into the cockpit.

"Holly!" Foaly's voice, high with urgency came through.

Holly resisted an urge to comment, and grabbed the mike. "Foaly? What's wrong?"

"It's bad, Holly. It really is." For once, Foaly's voice was devoid of sarcasm.

"Lieutenant Twig's been captured by a Mud Man. Spruce and Goldleaf have been killed."

Someone in the cockpit drew in their breath girlishly. Afterwards, Captain Trouble looked extremely embarrassed.

Holly's voice was tense "Who did this?"

"A British billionaire named Charles Tyr…I'll tell you more at headquarters. Just don't mind wipe Artemis."

Holly looked sidelong at Artemis. Artemis tactfully stepped behind Butler.

 "Why not?"

"I've got a few questions for him. Root's back tomorrow. He's going to blow an artery when he hears about this." Foaly cackled for quite a while.

Holly rolled her eyes. That was the Foaly she knew. "Right, Foaly. We'll be there in 5."

Trouble spoke up, his voice a little uncertain. "But we're not even a quarter of the way there…"

Holly smiled, showing teeth.. "I know," she said casually, and shoved the throttle forward much harder than necessary.

If the citizens of Haven had listened carefully, they could have heard Corporal Grub's frightened scream echoing down the tunnel.

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Five minutes later, Warehouse 9, The West End

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Cirrus Gerdhart had just lost his fifth round of Go Fish when they were attacked.

Giant shapes leapt from atop and behind crates and shelves, quickly surrounding the hapless pair. They held ancient projectile weapons, and Cirrus's veins turned to ice.

Mud Men.

His mind whirled at the enormity of the situation. These were trained Mud Men. In the Lower Elements, in numbers of force. This was no slight breach of security - this was a full-blown attack.

He had to tell headquarters.

He let his hand drift to his side, and flipped his power setting to lethal. He saw Newt out of the corner of his eye do the same. He considered the mesmer, but the Mud Men's eyes were all protected with mirrored glasses.

How could they - ?

No time for that, he thought.  He had only one option left.

Suddenly, Newt shouted "Now!"

The two sprites flickered out of sight. Newt shot toward the door, but a mass of Mud Men blocked his way. Newt swerved left, and hovered, bringing his weapon to bear. The Mud Men's heads turned to follow him as if they could see him. Some of the Mud men even raised weapons to aim, but that was impossible, Newt was invisible, vibrating at too high of a frequency to be -

A shot rang out, and Newt slumped to the floor.

Cirrus turned away, his features ravaged. A wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm him - horror, grief, fear, all washing over him like a wave of icy water. His instincts soon took over, and he shook himself out of it.

This was no time for grief. He shot into an evasion pattern across the room, moving as quickly as possible. So they could beat the shield…

They would have to catch him first.

He zipped around the room like a ricocheting bullet, radioing in his status to headquarters, flinching as bullets grazed his wing. He finished the message, and grunted as another bullet grazed by, nearly severing his pinky finger.

He paused behind a stack of crates, his narrow frame heaving painfully. Blood pounded through his ears, drowning out any half-cocked plan he could think of. He looked around, and his heart stopped in his chest. There was a hole in the warehouse wall behind him. Perhaps -

He dodged as a bullet whizzed by, pinging against a shelf.

Perhaps it was better this way. His life had been meaningful. But what was there left for him to go home to? A seedy apartment, a dead end assignment? No. He preferred this - going down in a blaze of glory in the heat of battle. He was an LEP officer, god damn it, and he was going to die doing what he had been trained to do.

He had no disillusions about his chances. He checked the setting of his weapon, and smiled fiercely.

The crates he was hidden behind were abruptly kicked away, and Cirrus rolled aside. He quickly flipped the setting on his helmet to Anti-UV, and tossed a flash grenade towards the Mud Men. A blinding light ensued from it, and the Mud Men were momentarily blinded.

He whipped out his Neutrino, and fired into the mass of Mud Men until he could feel no more.

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So what did everybody think?

Yeah… I really haven't been getting many reviews…Ah, it doesn't matter. At least the people who reviewed liked it.=D

Btw, is anybody disturbed by the fact the fairies are dying? I wouldn't normally do this, but if fairies die, it makes the situation seem more realistic and dangerous, you know?