Artemis Fowl: The Ivory Files
By Caspian Nyghtvision
Chapter Five: Of Nighthawks and Seeing-Eye Emus
Oh, look at how she listens,
She says nothing of what she thinks...
she just goes stumbling through her memories
staring out onto Grey Street.
But she thinks "Hey,
how did I come to this?
I dreamed myself a thousand times around the world
but I can't get out of this place."
-- "Grey Street," Dave Matthews Band
Disclaimer: I don't own Artemis Fowl, or the Skittles commercial. I hate that commercial! It just really annoys me! Sorry about the innuendoes, general weirdness, Juliet's diary. It was a long night. I also had the strange compulsion to completely blow the minds of everyone who writes for the "Lord of the Rings" fandom, or at least scar them a little. Now countless rabid fans will be writhing on the floor going "Why?! Why, Opal, why?!" The answer: Mostly because Opal and I find mind games amusing. Mwah hah ha hah!
Author Notes: Undernet is a term I came up with for the underground Internet. It's mine. All mine. And no pop-up ads. *evil laughter* Of course, my original clause holds true; all my characters and concepts may be borrowed, WITH permission. ^_^
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dedications: To crazygirly007 and Horatio; Kitty Rainbow; Mage Kitty; IntriKate. All I can say is... thank you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
__________________________
Saturday Morning about 10:00 AM
Fowl Manor
__________________________
Artemis passed his parent's bedroom and paused for an instant. It was ... good to hear the sounds of their voices. He'd missed it for a long time. It was when he began to concentrate on what they were saying that he began to get worried.
"And who will we choose for a bodyguard?" his father's voice asked.
"A Butler, of course, dear," his mother answered.
"Yes, but whom? Jacques is working hard enough as it is." Leaning closer to hear better, Artemis frowned. Jacques? Who was Jacques?
"He's already escorting Arty all around that school, not to mention keeping an eye on me. Ever since his uncle died..." Artemis Senior didn't have to finish that sentence, "... on the 'Morning Star'..."
The Artemis waiting outside blinked several times, attempting to keep all this in order. Butler's late uncle had been his father's bodyguard; now Butler was working double-time in an effort to keep the old tradition alive, 'every Fowl has a Butler not far behind.' However, he'd never known that his escort's first name was Jacques. It seemed strangely incongruous.
"Well... isn't there a Butler in the South China Sea? I hear he's very well qualified."
"He's a monk. Vows of religion, you know.'Do no harm to any living beast,' so he beats up palm trees."
"Ah. Well... what about Chauncey Butler-Mercedes?"
"She's seventy years old, is only a second cousin, and lives in Saskatchewan. On a ranch, where she trains emus as guide animals for the blind."
There was a long and painful pause.
"And don't mention the emus, either, dear," Angeline added, "They're very well trained, but I don't trust giant flightless birds."
There was another long and painful pause as both parties pondered that sentence. "What about Juliet?" his father finally asked.
"She's already MY bodyguard, dear, and she's trying so hard to go to college!"
"Who else do we have?"
"She barely has any experience! For heaven's sake, she's only eighteen. And I did want her to go to college!"
"Juliet? In college?"
"She's doing a very good job on all the tests."
"Ha!" Artemis Senior scoffed.
"Tem, don't be cruel! She's really a good girl at heart!"
"Really? Then what do you make of this?" Artemis Junior strained to see what was going on, but couldn't quite see what his father handed his mother. Then, however, he heard Angeline's disbelieving voice, "You READ her DIARY? How could you, Artemis! How could you?" There was the sound of a page turning. "Oh. Oh... That is not the word I would have used to describe our son! Oh. Oooh..." More astonished exclamations, and then Angeline added thoughtfully, "Well, he does inherit his tight, er, rear end from my side of the family. Ooh, but listen to this; 'still too young to tell, yet icon of hotness in the making!!' Oh, Tem, where have we gone wrong?"
Artemis the Second restrained the instinctive impulse to fall over, clutch his hair, and scream. It wouldn't be dignified. He staggered away from the door, glazedly, and walked straight into a suit of armor. Never a fun experience, even in the best of times.
When Butler finally extracted him and got him to a couch, he interpreted the young man's incoherent, wildly-out-of-character gibbering, twitching and frozen wide eyes as Raging Teenage Hormones. It happens to all of us, he thought with the arrogant wisdom of someone who is definitely not a teenager anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Holly staggered into the workplace in the earliest stage of severe caffeine withdrawal. Anyone who looked into her wild, darkly shadowed hazel eyes would wisely put as much distance between her and them as possible, preferably across a field of ripe land mines, lest she go for their necks at the slightest provocation. She slunk into Root's empty office and looked around.
"Gooooood morning, Holly." Foaly, smiling brightly with his big horsy teeth, planted himself (unwisely) in her path. There were no land mines between them. The scattered onlookers watched with morbid fascination.
"Foaly," she gritted, "Where is he?"
"Who?" The centaur's smile turned into a familiar annoying smirk. "God? Well, that's arguable, Holly. Or is "he" dear Captain Kelp? In that case, right behind you. Unless by "he," you mean your secret lover--"
A wad of paper suddenly wedged in his mouth, and he was physically pushed out of the office.
"Out, out, damned spot," Holly thought, smirking her own brand of annoying smirk. Aloud, she said, as politely as she could manage, "Good morning, Captain Kelp. Thank you for doing that."
"Good morning, Captain Short. You're welcome -- besides, I've always wanted to." Her old classmate looked tired, frazzled, apprehensive, haggard, and all the other things Holly felt and probably looked as well. However, he didn't have the half-crazed caffeine-hungry look she had. He probably had found coffee somewhere, the lucky son of a swear toad.
Outside, a certain centaur was ambushed and cornered in a cubicle by a certain administrative assistant. With a vengeful gleam in her eyes, the scorned secretary scotch-taped the papers more securely into his mouth, stapled his beard to a 542-page smuggling report, and put his newest tinfoil hat through her paper shredder. The scattered onlookers looked on, resisting the urge to applaud. They didn't want to come into work the next morning and find their hard drives erased and replaced with an animated icon of Foaly going "Laugh at me, will you? Nyah, nyah, nyah!" But inside Root's office, they couldn't hear any of that.
"So, what's the news?" Holly asked, determined not to snap. Subtly she manuevered herself around Root's large, cigar-scorched desk. A shark that smelled a kill on the horizon, she pulled open a drawer.
Caffeine?
No caffeine.
Instead, several nasty fungus cigars. She stared at them with narrowed, ruthless golden eyes. Was she desperate enough to chew on one?
Trouble was talking. Holly wasn't listening. She appeared to be trying to dig a tunnel through Root's desk. Trouble, beginning to get worried, cleared his throat nervously. She glared up at him. "Is there any caffeine in this?" she demanded, holding up a horrible, moldy, fungus-riddled cigar.
Trouble eyed it warily; it looked like something dug out of his little brother's room. "Nicotine, yes. Caffeine, no. Poison, most definitely. Why?"
"D'Arvit." Holly slammed the drawer shut and slumped moodily in Root's chair. "I can't live through this day without some kind of -- AHA!" Acting on some inborn caffeine-seeking instinct ((A/N: This is how we teenage girls find Easter candy three weeks before Easter, in case you were wondering ^_^)) she flung herself to the floor and started untacking the shabby carpet.
Trouble just watched, determined not to be surprised at anything anymore. Apparently the fates were just out to screw him and turn him into a raving psychopath, so he just wasn't going to react to this... insanity.
"Eureka! Tasssste the Rainbow!" Holly squealed in a voice several octaves above her normal one, then started a victory wardance. She twirled around, clutching the brightly colored packet of sugary candy in one fist.
Trouble just watched. Holly was imitating a Skittles commercial. Story of his life.
There was a knock at the door. A strangely triumphant-looking administrative assistant, her cheeks flushed with the glory of victory (and the knowledge that her computer would be riddled with bugs every day until both of them died) poked her head inside the office. "Commander's in the emergency ward of the medic building, wants you to haul butt over there." She vanished.
"Janus looks happy today," Holly commented between ravenously scarfing down Skittles and choking down a bottle of liquid she'd just found. Who knew what it was; it could have been floor polish, but she was past caring. Anything to take away the strange sugary feel Skittles leave in your mouth.
Trouble sighed. He had an inkling of what had just happened to the head technician. "You have no idea."
"Heh." Holly stuffed the now-empty packet of Skittles into the cushions of Root's chair. "Let's go see what our commander is up to, eh?"
------------------------------
Howler's Peak
High Security Goblin Prison
-----------------------------
Opal almost purred as she stroked the sleek brushed-steel surface of the tiny computer. Her emerald green eyes danced, her wings vibrated with a stifled joy. She opened it and caressed the smooth keyboard. Beautiful. It was beautiful. If it was worth anything.
She looked up with a suspicious half-scowl at the person waiting outside, dark eyes shadowed in a pale and narrow face. "Wireless modem?"
"Check," said the person in a coldly monotonous voice.
"Access to the Undernet?"
"Check."
Opal's green eyes narrowed hopefully. "Access to the Internet?"
"Yes." The person tilted their head to one side with a rustle. "I didn't have to add the Internet, you know. It was an extra. I'm a good friend to have."
"Time will tell," Opal murmured. She'd heard that before. "Time and a trial by fire." A sudden horror struck her. "Oh, gods, tell me it doesn't have Netzero."
"It has a unique Web browser, made by myself. Unlimited Internet access. No banner ads."
"Does it have... a pop-up blocker?"
"Yes."
"And support services for fanfiction.net?"
Those stark dark eyes actually blinked. "Now why under Earth would you want that?"
Opal shrugged. "I write slash for Lord of the Rings. Well, I did, until they put me in this trollpit."
There was a very, very strange silence.
Not even the Arctic wind, which howled constantly around the prison, could bring itself to blow after that mind-blowing statement.
There was a strange grinding, crunching sound, as all of the reader's brains shifted gears and slammed into reverse. Using a stick transmission. Without a clutch.
Finally the person spoke, every syllable dripping incredulity. If it was possible for so Gothic a person to bleat and gibber, they would have. "WHAT? Koboi, I'd heard you were insane, but--"
"Fine, never mind."
"Bu-- gi-- me-- I--" The person paused and rocked slightly. "Everything anyone ever told me was a lie," they stated monotonously, managed to wrap their mind around that fact, and moved on. "Very well. You have your computer and access to the outside world." (The person decided to ignore the disturbing way Opal was clutching the computer to her chest, cackling, and imitating the voices of various actors.) "We had a deal. In return, I want my information."
"Oh, all right." Opal stood up reluctantly and moved closer to the prison door. She looked up critically at her new savior. "First, give me a name to call you. Second, give me your gender."
Startled, the person paused. "Why?"
"So that I don't keep calling you 'this person' in my head, and..." Opal tossed her head, "So I know if I should flirt with you, or call you sister and sympathize about the boyfriend who left."
There was a long-suffering sigh. "Very well. I am male, and you may call me Takaban. I'm getting impatient, Opal."
"All right. Human ivory blocks the Gift. In the old days, we used to buy it from children who had just lost their baby teeth. It was used to subdue prisoners and criminals until it was banned by the Atlantis Convention. That's where the Tooth Fairy myth came from."
There was an edgy rustle in the hall outside. Opal stroked her new computer. "You're quite fidgety, Takaban. Did you deal with the guards?"
"They're under the mesmer, Koboi. In theory, we have plenty of time."
"Well. If nobody notices that the Tooth Fairy seems to be walking again, you stand a good chance of collecting enough ivory to immobilize Haven. I might help you, in exchange for my freedom... and a few other things."
"I'll think about it. Thank you for your advice, Koboi. I'll come again."
"See you then." Opal turned away and kissed her keyboard. "Font of inspiration for every aspiring writer," she whispered to the computer, "Serve me well and earn me many, many reviews..."
Takaban walked away, shaking his head disbelievingly. He folded his raven-like wings to his back with a rustle. Behind him, one black feather fell lightly to the floor.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Ha ha ha ha! My badguy has a name! "Takaban" means "Nighthawk" in Japanese. Deep in the fundamental heart and mind of the Universe, there is a reason.
Thanks to Artemis Fowl the Second for confirming that book number three in the series, "Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code" is for real, not just a cruel rumor. Am I alone in hoping that Colfer will finally do something with Butler's possible Gift, like Root hinted at the end of the first book? Obsessed? Yes I am.
Thanks to everyone for their reviews. Keep up! Please! It's important to me. I do all this work for you.
I remain, as ever,
Yours in the Netherworld,
Caspian Nyghtvision
By Caspian Nyghtvision
Chapter Five: Of Nighthawks and Seeing-Eye Emus
Oh, look at how she listens,
She says nothing of what she thinks...
she just goes stumbling through her memories
staring out onto Grey Street.
But she thinks "Hey,
how did I come to this?
I dreamed myself a thousand times around the world
but I can't get out of this place."
-- "Grey Street," Dave Matthews Band
Disclaimer: I don't own Artemis Fowl, or the Skittles commercial. I hate that commercial! It just really annoys me! Sorry about the innuendoes, general weirdness, Juliet's diary. It was a long night. I also had the strange compulsion to completely blow the minds of everyone who writes for the "Lord of the Rings" fandom, or at least scar them a little. Now countless rabid fans will be writhing on the floor going "Why?! Why, Opal, why?!" The answer: Mostly because Opal and I find mind games amusing. Mwah hah ha hah!
Author Notes: Undernet is a term I came up with for the underground Internet. It's mine. All mine. And no pop-up ads. *evil laughter* Of course, my original clause holds true; all my characters and concepts may be borrowed, WITH permission. ^_^
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dedications: To crazygirly007 and Horatio; Kitty Rainbow; Mage Kitty; IntriKate. All I can say is... thank you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
__________________________
Saturday Morning about 10:00 AM
Fowl Manor
__________________________
Artemis passed his parent's bedroom and paused for an instant. It was ... good to hear the sounds of their voices. He'd missed it for a long time. It was when he began to concentrate on what they were saying that he began to get worried.
"And who will we choose for a bodyguard?" his father's voice asked.
"A Butler, of course, dear," his mother answered.
"Yes, but whom? Jacques is working hard enough as it is." Leaning closer to hear better, Artemis frowned. Jacques? Who was Jacques?
"He's already escorting Arty all around that school, not to mention keeping an eye on me. Ever since his uncle died..." Artemis Senior didn't have to finish that sentence, "... on the 'Morning Star'..."
The Artemis waiting outside blinked several times, attempting to keep all this in order. Butler's late uncle had been his father's bodyguard; now Butler was working double-time in an effort to keep the old tradition alive, 'every Fowl has a Butler not far behind.' However, he'd never known that his escort's first name was Jacques. It seemed strangely incongruous.
"Well... isn't there a Butler in the South China Sea? I hear he's very well qualified."
"He's a monk. Vows of religion, you know.'Do no harm to any living beast,' so he beats up palm trees."
"Ah. Well... what about Chauncey Butler-Mercedes?"
"She's seventy years old, is only a second cousin, and lives in Saskatchewan. On a ranch, where she trains emus as guide animals for the blind."
There was a long and painful pause.
"And don't mention the emus, either, dear," Angeline added, "They're very well trained, but I don't trust giant flightless birds."
There was another long and painful pause as both parties pondered that sentence. "What about Juliet?" his father finally asked.
"She's already MY bodyguard, dear, and she's trying so hard to go to college!"
"Who else do we have?"
"She barely has any experience! For heaven's sake, she's only eighteen. And I did want her to go to college!"
"Juliet? In college?"
"She's doing a very good job on all the tests."
"Ha!" Artemis Senior scoffed.
"Tem, don't be cruel! She's really a good girl at heart!"
"Really? Then what do you make of this?" Artemis Junior strained to see what was going on, but couldn't quite see what his father handed his mother. Then, however, he heard Angeline's disbelieving voice, "You READ her DIARY? How could you, Artemis! How could you?" There was the sound of a page turning. "Oh. Oh... That is not the word I would have used to describe our son! Oh. Oooh..." More astonished exclamations, and then Angeline added thoughtfully, "Well, he does inherit his tight, er, rear end from my side of the family. Ooh, but listen to this; 'still too young to tell, yet icon of hotness in the making!!' Oh, Tem, where have we gone wrong?"
Artemis the Second restrained the instinctive impulse to fall over, clutch his hair, and scream. It wouldn't be dignified. He staggered away from the door, glazedly, and walked straight into a suit of armor. Never a fun experience, even in the best of times.
When Butler finally extracted him and got him to a couch, he interpreted the young man's incoherent, wildly-out-of-character gibbering, twitching and frozen wide eyes as Raging Teenage Hormones. It happens to all of us, he thought with the arrogant wisdom of someone who is definitely not a teenager anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Holly staggered into the workplace in the earliest stage of severe caffeine withdrawal. Anyone who looked into her wild, darkly shadowed hazel eyes would wisely put as much distance between her and them as possible, preferably across a field of ripe land mines, lest she go for their necks at the slightest provocation. She slunk into Root's empty office and looked around.
"Gooooood morning, Holly." Foaly, smiling brightly with his big horsy teeth, planted himself (unwisely) in her path. There were no land mines between them. The scattered onlookers watched with morbid fascination.
"Foaly," she gritted, "Where is he?"
"Who?" The centaur's smile turned into a familiar annoying smirk. "God? Well, that's arguable, Holly. Or is "he" dear Captain Kelp? In that case, right behind you. Unless by "he," you mean your secret lover--"
A wad of paper suddenly wedged in his mouth, and he was physically pushed out of the office.
"Out, out, damned spot," Holly thought, smirking her own brand of annoying smirk. Aloud, she said, as politely as she could manage, "Good morning, Captain Kelp. Thank you for doing that."
"Good morning, Captain Short. You're welcome -- besides, I've always wanted to." Her old classmate looked tired, frazzled, apprehensive, haggard, and all the other things Holly felt and probably looked as well. However, he didn't have the half-crazed caffeine-hungry look she had. He probably had found coffee somewhere, the lucky son of a swear toad.
Outside, a certain centaur was ambushed and cornered in a cubicle by a certain administrative assistant. With a vengeful gleam in her eyes, the scorned secretary scotch-taped the papers more securely into his mouth, stapled his beard to a 542-page smuggling report, and put his newest tinfoil hat through her paper shredder. The scattered onlookers looked on, resisting the urge to applaud. They didn't want to come into work the next morning and find their hard drives erased and replaced with an animated icon of Foaly going "Laugh at me, will you? Nyah, nyah, nyah!" But inside Root's office, they couldn't hear any of that.
"So, what's the news?" Holly asked, determined not to snap. Subtly she manuevered herself around Root's large, cigar-scorched desk. A shark that smelled a kill on the horizon, she pulled open a drawer.
Caffeine?
No caffeine.
Instead, several nasty fungus cigars. She stared at them with narrowed, ruthless golden eyes. Was she desperate enough to chew on one?
Trouble was talking. Holly wasn't listening. She appeared to be trying to dig a tunnel through Root's desk. Trouble, beginning to get worried, cleared his throat nervously. She glared up at him. "Is there any caffeine in this?" she demanded, holding up a horrible, moldy, fungus-riddled cigar.
Trouble eyed it warily; it looked like something dug out of his little brother's room. "Nicotine, yes. Caffeine, no. Poison, most definitely. Why?"
"D'Arvit." Holly slammed the drawer shut and slumped moodily in Root's chair. "I can't live through this day without some kind of -- AHA!" Acting on some inborn caffeine-seeking instinct ((A/N: This is how we teenage girls find Easter candy three weeks before Easter, in case you were wondering ^_^)) she flung herself to the floor and started untacking the shabby carpet.
Trouble just watched, determined not to be surprised at anything anymore. Apparently the fates were just out to screw him and turn him into a raving psychopath, so he just wasn't going to react to this... insanity.
"Eureka! Tasssste the Rainbow!" Holly squealed in a voice several octaves above her normal one, then started a victory wardance. She twirled around, clutching the brightly colored packet of sugary candy in one fist.
Trouble just watched. Holly was imitating a Skittles commercial. Story of his life.
There was a knock at the door. A strangely triumphant-looking administrative assistant, her cheeks flushed with the glory of victory (and the knowledge that her computer would be riddled with bugs every day until both of them died) poked her head inside the office. "Commander's in the emergency ward of the medic building, wants you to haul butt over there." She vanished.
"Janus looks happy today," Holly commented between ravenously scarfing down Skittles and choking down a bottle of liquid she'd just found. Who knew what it was; it could have been floor polish, but she was past caring. Anything to take away the strange sugary feel Skittles leave in your mouth.
Trouble sighed. He had an inkling of what had just happened to the head technician. "You have no idea."
"Heh." Holly stuffed the now-empty packet of Skittles into the cushions of Root's chair. "Let's go see what our commander is up to, eh?"
------------------------------
Howler's Peak
High Security Goblin Prison
-----------------------------
Opal almost purred as she stroked the sleek brushed-steel surface of the tiny computer. Her emerald green eyes danced, her wings vibrated with a stifled joy. She opened it and caressed the smooth keyboard. Beautiful. It was beautiful. If it was worth anything.
She looked up with a suspicious half-scowl at the person waiting outside, dark eyes shadowed in a pale and narrow face. "Wireless modem?"
"Check," said the person in a coldly monotonous voice.
"Access to the Undernet?"
"Check."
Opal's green eyes narrowed hopefully. "Access to the Internet?"
"Yes." The person tilted their head to one side with a rustle. "I didn't have to add the Internet, you know. It was an extra. I'm a good friend to have."
"Time will tell," Opal murmured. She'd heard that before. "Time and a trial by fire." A sudden horror struck her. "Oh, gods, tell me it doesn't have Netzero."
"It has a unique Web browser, made by myself. Unlimited Internet access. No banner ads."
"Does it have... a pop-up blocker?"
"Yes."
"And support services for fanfiction.net?"
Those stark dark eyes actually blinked. "Now why under Earth would you want that?"
Opal shrugged. "I write slash for Lord of the Rings. Well, I did, until they put me in this trollpit."
There was a very, very strange silence.
Not even the Arctic wind, which howled constantly around the prison, could bring itself to blow after that mind-blowing statement.
There was a strange grinding, crunching sound, as all of the reader's brains shifted gears and slammed into reverse. Using a stick transmission. Without a clutch.
Finally the person spoke, every syllable dripping incredulity. If it was possible for so Gothic a person to bleat and gibber, they would have. "WHAT? Koboi, I'd heard you were insane, but--"
"Fine, never mind."
"Bu-- gi-- me-- I--" The person paused and rocked slightly. "Everything anyone ever told me was a lie," they stated monotonously, managed to wrap their mind around that fact, and moved on. "Very well. You have your computer and access to the outside world." (The person decided to ignore the disturbing way Opal was clutching the computer to her chest, cackling, and imitating the voices of various actors.) "We had a deal. In return, I want my information."
"Oh, all right." Opal stood up reluctantly and moved closer to the prison door. She looked up critically at her new savior. "First, give me a name to call you. Second, give me your gender."
Startled, the person paused. "Why?"
"So that I don't keep calling you 'this person' in my head, and..." Opal tossed her head, "So I know if I should flirt with you, or call you sister and sympathize about the boyfriend who left."
There was a long-suffering sigh. "Very well. I am male, and you may call me Takaban. I'm getting impatient, Opal."
"All right. Human ivory blocks the Gift. In the old days, we used to buy it from children who had just lost their baby teeth. It was used to subdue prisoners and criminals until it was banned by the Atlantis Convention. That's where the Tooth Fairy myth came from."
There was an edgy rustle in the hall outside. Opal stroked her new computer. "You're quite fidgety, Takaban. Did you deal with the guards?"
"They're under the mesmer, Koboi. In theory, we have plenty of time."
"Well. If nobody notices that the Tooth Fairy seems to be walking again, you stand a good chance of collecting enough ivory to immobilize Haven. I might help you, in exchange for my freedom... and a few other things."
"I'll think about it. Thank you for your advice, Koboi. I'll come again."
"See you then." Opal turned away and kissed her keyboard. "Font of inspiration for every aspiring writer," she whispered to the computer, "Serve me well and earn me many, many reviews..."
Takaban walked away, shaking his head disbelievingly. He folded his raven-like wings to his back with a rustle. Behind him, one black feather fell lightly to the floor.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Ha ha ha ha! My badguy has a name! "Takaban" means "Nighthawk" in Japanese. Deep in the fundamental heart and mind of the Universe, there is a reason.
Thanks to Artemis Fowl the Second for confirming that book number three in the series, "Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code" is for real, not just a cruel rumor. Am I alone in hoping that Colfer will finally do something with Butler's possible Gift, like Root hinted at the end of the first book? Obsessed? Yes I am.
Thanks to everyone for their reviews. Keep up! Please! It's important to me. I do all this work for you.
I remain, as ever,
Yours in the Netherworld,
Caspian Nyghtvision