|Police Plaza|
Mulch Diggums sat impatiently in his cell, although what he was waiting for was probably going to take a lot longer than he could be impatient for. Mulch, kleptomaniac dwarf, was really in for it this time. One previous escapades with Artemis Fowl, he'd managed to slip away and start a new life somewhere else. Well, this time he'd been caught by Captain Holly Short and thrown into jail.
Mulch wasn't one to hold grudges, so Holly wasn't down in his bad books. He was a creature who was devoted almost entirely to himself- that was, until Artemis Fowl came along. So Mulch was suited to the life of a fugitive. One thing he wasn't suited to was jail time.
And waiting.
Mulch was waiting for the sprite that came around daily to come back with news of a possible review of his case. At his last parting with Artemis Fowl, the Irish boy had slipped him a note and a medallion. The note read to have a review of his case, and when he was released to bring the medallion to him, Master Fowl.
Mulch pulled the leather thong off of his neck, once more examining the gold disk. He'd come to the conclusion that it was some sort of Mud Man computer disk with some precious files stored on its chip. The dwarf's gaze practically bore another hole through the gold leaf as he stared at it unfixedly - something that, with the help of constant boredom, had become an almost impregnable routine.
"It ain't gonna happen," Mulch said aloud, scratching his beard. "Nothing ain't ever gonna happen."
It was at this moment that the sprite appeared at his door. "Diggums? Diggums, you got someone looking in on a possible review of your case."
Hey presto, thought Mulch. Thank you, ladies and gents, that'll be all.
-
Mulch, wrists entwined in Plexiglas handcuffs, followed the nervous sprite down the corridors of Police Plaza. "This way, Diggums," she squealed, "This way, please."
That girl really should be put into Traffic, thought Mulch, watching the bobbing yellow-jumpsuited figure with unusual observation. Everyone for a mile would stop when they got a load of that voice.
He winced as the sprite ushered him into an unusually large office, mincing something or other about law enforcement strategies. "One two three march, out the door you go," a sarcastic voice instructed the sprite. A voice that Mulch knew only too well.
He lowered himself into a chair. "Well, well. Foaly."
"If it isn't Julius's favorite convict," grinned the centaur. "So, what makes you think you can demand a review of your case? According to our boss man, you are officially in the cells for at least a decade."
Mulch ignored this for a moment. "Why does the mighty Foaly take my case into his own hands, instead of shoving it to a grunt?" he asked innocently.
"It ain't polite to answer a question with a question," scolded Foaly, twirling in his specially adapted swivel chair. "My answer is, because you amuse me, Diggums. You're a creepy sort of guy - but the question is, how did this creepy little guy become so bold as to demand a case review?"
Mulch stuck out a quivering lower lip. Not a pretty sight. "Pretty please with sugar on top?"
"Quit with the pitiful act," snarled Foaly, in faithful imitation of Commander Julius Root. "I can see that you aren't going to stop whining until I give in. Are you totally disregarding the fact that I can throw you back in prison and ignore you for a few more centuries?"
Mulch gave him what he considered his best puppy dog eyes. The result was a round look at eyes that you didn't really want to see.
Foaly mockingly cowered in his chair. "Aren't you the gutsy fairy. Okay, okay, I give up, you win. I'll review your case, even if it is mostly just to annoy Julius."
Mulch grinned. Foaly was his type of nice guy. Albeit, the nice guy that had helped return him to the grimy cells of Police Plaza more than six times.
Foaly glided over the metal flooring on his swivel chair, flicking a few fingers over his mainframe keyboard almost absently, bringing up a database of case reviews. "There are thousands of these," he explained, "I've had to write more than one program to categorize each according to all factors and details."
Mulch yawned openly.
Foaly ignored it. The only one who'd not responded indifferently to his rants and lectures about technology had been Artemis Fowl, the genius Mud Boy. Of course, Fowl had been effectively mind-wiped two months ago. He would never admit it, but Foaly was starting to feel lonely again.
He dropped down a scroll screen, keypadding down through the contents. "Blah blah blah, the van Gogh, the Jules Forten Cup, yadah yadah yadah, and finally the gold bars. Wait a minute. What the-"
"What is it, Foaly?" Mulch asked, the picture of innocence.
Foaly carefully dabbed at his eyes with a wet tissue. "D'arvit!" Eyes reddened, he peered once more at the screen.
"Yes?"
"Fibers in my eye. but the date! The date on your arrest." Foaly took one last look. Just in case three times wasn't enough. "Is a day after the search warrant of your cave."
"What?"
Foaly ran up another scan of files. When yet another screen with bearing Mulch's name popped up, he examined it closely, leaning in so close to the plasma screen that he almost burned off the tip of his nose.
He sat back, slapping horsy hands down on the aluminum desk. "All right, 'fess up, Diggums. What'd you do this time - how'd you change the LEP info?"
"That," Mulch rejoined, with dignity, "is a rhetorical question. I am not a computer freak as you are, my friend."
Foaly glared. "Computer freak to you, my hairy little companion, but technical genius to all fairies with class and intelligence."
"Dream on," said Mulch airily, waving vaguely around.
Foaly sniffed. "Because you chose to insult my superior intelligence, I will allow you to be victim of a rant of our favorite boss elf. I will not name any names."
In a matter of seconds Julius Root's face was featured on the computer mainframe, sucking on one of his trademark fungus cigars. He did not look happy.
"Hello, convict."
Mulch perkily scratched behind a pointed ear, looked about for a while and finally focused his tawny eyes on the screen. "Why, Julius!"
"Enough," growled the commander. "I hear you have some news with dates in your file. Well, I'm telling you now, there is only a twenty-three percent chance that you're being released, and if you are -if- I can remind you that you will be closely monitored by the LEP for the rest of your life."
Foaly flushed out the commander's image at the flick of a button. He looked disappointed that the commander hadn't, at the very least, started roaring.
Mulch casually grinned at the ruffled centaur. "Well?"
A minute later, he was sitting in his cell, smiling a Cheshire-cat smile. Goodbye LEP, he thought, Hello, Artemis Fowl.
Mulch Diggums sat impatiently in his cell, although what he was waiting for was probably going to take a lot longer than he could be impatient for. Mulch, kleptomaniac dwarf, was really in for it this time. One previous escapades with Artemis Fowl, he'd managed to slip away and start a new life somewhere else. Well, this time he'd been caught by Captain Holly Short and thrown into jail.
Mulch wasn't one to hold grudges, so Holly wasn't down in his bad books. He was a creature who was devoted almost entirely to himself- that was, until Artemis Fowl came along. So Mulch was suited to the life of a fugitive. One thing he wasn't suited to was jail time.
And waiting.
Mulch was waiting for the sprite that came around daily to come back with news of a possible review of his case. At his last parting with Artemis Fowl, the Irish boy had slipped him a note and a medallion. The note read to have a review of his case, and when he was released to bring the medallion to him, Master Fowl.
Mulch pulled the leather thong off of his neck, once more examining the gold disk. He'd come to the conclusion that it was some sort of Mud Man computer disk with some precious files stored on its chip. The dwarf's gaze practically bore another hole through the gold leaf as he stared at it unfixedly - something that, with the help of constant boredom, had become an almost impregnable routine.
"It ain't gonna happen," Mulch said aloud, scratching his beard. "Nothing ain't ever gonna happen."
It was at this moment that the sprite appeared at his door. "Diggums? Diggums, you got someone looking in on a possible review of your case."
Hey presto, thought Mulch. Thank you, ladies and gents, that'll be all.
-
Mulch, wrists entwined in Plexiglas handcuffs, followed the nervous sprite down the corridors of Police Plaza. "This way, Diggums," she squealed, "This way, please."
That girl really should be put into Traffic, thought Mulch, watching the bobbing yellow-jumpsuited figure with unusual observation. Everyone for a mile would stop when they got a load of that voice.
He winced as the sprite ushered him into an unusually large office, mincing something or other about law enforcement strategies. "One two three march, out the door you go," a sarcastic voice instructed the sprite. A voice that Mulch knew only too well.
He lowered himself into a chair. "Well, well. Foaly."
"If it isn't Julius's favorite convict," grinned the centaur. "So, what makes you think you can demand a review of your case? According to our boss man, you are officially in the cells for at least a decade."
Mulch ignored this for a moment. "Why does the mighty Foaly take my case into his own hands, instead of shoving it to a grunt?" he asked innocently.
"It ain't polite to answer a question with a question," scolded Foaly, twirling in his specially adapted swivel chair. "My answer is, because you amuse me, Diggums. You're a creepy sort of guy - but the question is, how did this creepy little guy become so bold as to demand a case review?"
Mulch stuck out a quivering lower lip. Not a pretty sight. "Pretty please with sugar on top?"
"Quit with the pitiful act," snarled Foaly, in faithful imitation of Commander Julius Root. "I can see that you aren't going to stop whining until I give in. Are you totally disregarding the fact that I can throw you back in prison and ignore you for a few more centuries?"
Mulch gave him what he considered his best puppy dog eyes. The result was a round look at eyes that you didn't really want to see.
Foaly mockingly cowered in his chair. "Aren't you the gutsy fairy. Okay, okay, I give up, you win. I'll review your case, even if it is mostly just to annoy Julius."
Mulch grinned. Foaly was his type of nice guy. Albeit, the nice guy that had helped return him to the grimy cells of Police Plaza more than six times.
Foaly glided over the metal flooring on his swivel chair, flicking a few fingers over his mainframe keyboard almost absently, bringing up a database of case reviews. "There are thousands of these," he explained, "I've had to write more than one program to categorize each according to all factors and details."
Mulch yawned openly.
Foaly ignored it. The only one who'd not responded indifferently to his rants and lectures about technology had been Artemis Fowl, the genius Mud Boy. Of course, Fowl had been effectively mind-wiped two months ago. He would never admit it, but Foaly was starting to feel lonely again.
He dropped down a scroll screen, keypadding down through the contents. "Blah blah blah, the van Gogh, the Jules Forten Cup, yadah yadah yadah, and finally the gold bars. Wait a minute. What the-"
"What is it, Foaly?" Mulch asked, the picture of innocence.
Foaly carefully dabbed at his eyes with a wet tissue. "D'arvit!" Eyes reddened, he peered once more at the screen.
"Yes?"
"Fibers in my eye. but the date! The date on your arrest." Foaly took one last look. Just in case three times wasn't enough. "Is a day after the search warrant of your cave."
"What?"
Foaly ran up another scan of files. When yet another screen with bearing Mulch's name popped up, he examined it closely, leaning in so close to the plasma screen that he almost burned off the tip of his nose.
He sat back, slapping horsy hands down on the aluminum desk. "All right, 'fess up, Diggums. What'd you do this time - how'd you change the LEP info?"
"That," Mulch rejoined, with dignity, "is a rhetorical question. I am not a computer freak as you are, my friend."
Foaly glared. "Computer freak to you, my hairy little companion, but technical genius to all fairies with class and intelligence."
"Dream on," said Mulch airily, waving vaguely around.
Foaly sniffed. "Because you chose to insult my superior intelligence, I will allow you to be victim of a rant of our favorite boss elf. I will not name any names."
In a matter of seconds Julius Root's face was featured on the computer mainframe, sucking on one of his trademark fungus cigars. He did not look happy.
"Hello, convict."
Mulch perkily scratched behind a pointed ear, looked about for a while and finally focused his tawny eyes on the screen. "Why, Julius!"
"Enough," growled the commander. "I hear you have some news with dates in your file. Well, I'm telling you now, there is only a twenty-three percent chance that you're being released, and if you are -if- I can remind you that you will be closely monitored by the LEP for the rest of your life."
Foaly flushed out the commander's image at the flick of a button. He looked disappointed that the commander hadn't, at the very least, started roaring.
Mulch casually grinned at the ruffled centaur. "Well?"
A minute later, he was sitting in his cell, smiling a Cheshire-cat smile. Goodbye LEP, he thought, Hello, Artemis Fowl.