Note: Okay, everybody, I just went on vacation, sorry for not updating, but I was thinking about Holly and Foaly and everybody in general on the plane and realized that my tearful plot was not at all realistic and respectful to the characters, so I'm changing it. I don't really know where this is going, but please bear with me… it might turn out okay, all right?

| Police Plaza, Report Room 027 |

  Foaly was excited. Zooming around collecting print-outs from his wildly beeping machines, he was the picture of rushed happiness. This annoyed Holly, who was seated in a chair in the middle of the room as a blond elf measured her legs and feet.

  "Foaly…" she said.

  "This is great," said the centaur in a low, husky stage-whisper. "Baby, this couldn't get any greater-"

  Holly whacked him on the shoulder as he passed. "Goddammit Foaly, just get to the point! Would you please explain why Miss Garfunkel here is amusing herself with the opposite lengths of the tape measure and my leg? Honestly, pony boy. Suspense is not all it's jacked up to be."

  Foaly gave her a look. "Miss Garcia is measuring your legs so she can craft appropriate prosthetic limbs that will fit you properly."

  "That's not an answer."

  "Technically it is, oh wisecracking little elf, but I'll deign to explain myself." Foaly had to pause for effect. "I'm trying something new with you in here. It's never been tested before, Holly. Brand new. A prototype, in a manner of speaking. You are the first elf ever to do this. Okay." Foaly had to pause for breath. Too much excitement, bad for the heart. "Instead of investigating as a winged and shielded LEPrecon officer… you'll be investigating under the guise of a human. Is that beautiful or what?"

  It took a few moments before Holly could speak. She gaped at the centaur as Miss Garcia quietly measured away. "Foaly, you idiot!"

  Foaly perked up. "Now if you're wanting to compare IQ points-"

  "How is this going to go down? This is risky, pony boy, risky! What if the mind-wipe didn't take right? What if he remembers the People? What is Commander Root going to think about this?" Holly knew that dragging Root's opinion into this was going a bit… stupid, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Foaly was hurt. "Do you think that I am so stupid that I haven't passed this with the Council, Captain? They only agreed to do it because you were the test case. Of course, you know that your career won't survive another blow…" Foaly's eyes glinted under the florescent lighting of the report room.

  Holly cut her eyes towards him. "Are you threatening me, pony boy?"

  "Yes," continued Foaly, "one more incident out of line and you might as well be out of a job. This is a high-risk operation, Short. You never know what might happen."

  Holly stood, much to the dismay of the kneeling Miss Garcia. "It was voluntary, Foaly. I'll go back to Tourist Patrol, thank you very much." Not that Captain Holly Short was a coward; of course, it was just that knowing Foaly this scheme would have several ridiculously dangerous facets. Holly was not prepared to throw her job after some harebrained scam. Especially not where Artemis Fowl was concerned. The Irish Mud Boy had a remarkable scent for trouble, probably even with a mind wipe.

  Foaly adopted a lugubrious face. "Orders from the top, Captain. So your job: lose it now, lose it later; your choice. What is it?"

  Holly stared at him for a moment before snarling, "I'll take it!" and storming out.