A/N: I own nothing but my character. But I stand proud. Sort of.
Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! [Even those ones declaring me a Mary-Sue] I would just like to say that my character is NOT a Mary-Sue because I HATE Mary-Sues. So why would my character be a Mary-Sue? And I promise you, the story gets better…WAYYY better.
TO MY LOVELIES:
Kayla Holsten: Just wait and see about the 'falling in love' part.
That Aerin: It's even more amusing writing this. Haha. I like the bio. It's very funny.
Alatira-Intelar: I'm so glad you're enjoying it!! COOKIE FOR YOU! Yay. Major compliments on your story, too.
Bloody Vixen: My character is not a Mary-Sue. She actually is quite the opposite in my opinion. Your constructive criticism is appreciated. Thanks. I assure you your suggestions will be put to use.
BACK ON YER STORY CHUMS!! AND YE BETTER REVIEW. NOOO flames. Well, flame if you want. It only serves to amuse me.
Chapter 13
Clash Clash Parry Dash
ABOUT 1 MONTH LATER
Yes. Today is Halloween, the day when all the sluts go out in skimpy, skanky costumes and seduce people. ('Trick or Treat! wink wink'.) All of the Slutty People, all congregated together.
How I despised them.
This year, my costume would be a pirate, I decided. Good for keeping weapons at your side, because naturally everyone envisions pirates bristling with all kinds of weapons. Cutlasses, knives, axes, pistols, chains…the list goes on. A perfect opportunity to cut down Fowl in his steps.
As in, DANCE steps, that it.
You see, this is no ordinary Halloween 'Trick-or-Treat' Party. It's a masquerade. Miss M. managed to research it a bit ahead of time, scoring me tickets. She said that this would be a vital part in the plan. I will fulfill my duty, even if it means just being able to get Miss Magnoliana off of my back for awhile. How long, I can't really say. You never exactly know with her. She's more of the I-Try-To-Be-Mysterious-But-I-End-Up-Just-Being-A-Bitch type. Yes. That is her.
The plan for the mission to take place and be successful is to get into the Halloween Masquerade as a pirate. Of course, Fowl, with all of his advanced technology and wits, would probably figure out or had already figured out that I was going. If he did, it would work to my advantage. Let's say that Artemis Fowl II actually DID find out, and he actually DID get in… I would ask him if I would be able to have the pleasure of dancing with him, and hopefully he would not decline the invitation. Then, while we are whirling throughout the ballroom, I would pull a knife on him or shoot him. Or even better, put the barrel to his head and ask for his riches and threaten to pull if refused. Either way, I would have to be sure to make a quick get-away, and I mean quick as in the literal meaning of SCRAM.
Yes, this plan seemed flawless. Fool-proof. No one would expect what was coming. If Fowl did, he would not be able to move from the close quarters of the dance to dodge the bullet or knife. No. It seemed in my mind that this plan was unstoppable. Invincible, the assassination inevitable. The pay would be enormous, of course. I would be rich! Filthy, bloody rich! Hey, I might even be able to go home and settle down, forgetting my life of crime. Maybe even start a family. Who knows? Yes, indeed, this plan was excellent.
Except for one little, miniscule detail. More like event, actually.
Last night.
I had admitted to Fowl that I had feelings for him, a big no-no in the business of C19 7. I had broken the final rule that was of utmost importance: Show no feeling for the victim. In other words, 'Kill or be killed.' I could not afford to be killed. No one can, as a matter of fact. I had only one option: to kill. Fulfill my promise to the agency. Besides…the results would be grand. If I wasn't caught, that is.
I tried to push last night's events toward the back of my head. To block them out. Forget them. Leave them in the dust. But I just couldn't. What was wrong with me?! I am so used to dealing with matters such as these and then some Victim happens along and I yearn for his touch?! I gasped. I couldn't believe I just said that, admitted that, to myself. Yearn for his touch?!! I do NOT, I thought indignantly. But my thoughts wandered again. To last night, that fateful night. How his kisses had sent shivers down my spine. How they had affected me in a way that was unknown at the time. The more I thought this over, the more I wanted more of his kisses and gentle caresses. No! This can't be happening!! I won't let it! My mission is to kill him, not to 'yearn for his touch'! I thought to myself. I had to stop thinking of this. I HAD to take my mind off of it somehow. What to do…ah! Fencing. When I fenced, I put my whole mind into the parries and thrusts of the sport, leaving none behind for impractical thinking. I grabbed my sword and headed off to the practice courts I had seen when I had arrived at the estate for the first time.
I walked along a dirt path set with cobblestones and ferns on either side of it, towering over me. I had the sensation that I was in the tropics, where exotic plants and sunny days are common. About ten minutes later, I arrived at the door of the court. This one was a large, polished oak door, with exquisite carvings of swordfights, hunting, and jousting. There was a large brass knob, which I turned. The court lights were awakened, each flashing on one by one, enlightening the expansive area. There were bleachers on either ends of the dueling center. I guessed that sometimes duals were held for entertainment here, much like the Middle Ages. There was another door, this one also of oak and accompanied by a large brass knob, but no carvings were found on the door. I turned the knobs and pulled, walking into a dim, dusty room full of swordplay gear, wooden practice swords, metal swords, and all sorts of odds and ends. I flicked on the light switch, proceeding to rummage through the swords, admiring their craftwork. In the corner of the room was a restroom, which I used. I pulled on some tight but absolutely flexible breeches, a baggy white shirt with flowing sleeves, and a pair of black, supple, leather boots. I pulled an emerald colored tunic over my head and settled it on top of the baggy white shirt and buckled my black sword-belt around my hips. I never failed to dress uniquely on the courts, preferring to go all-out and use the medieval style of clothing. It was just more interesting that way.
I sheathed my sword and stepped out of the restroom, only to find the lights turned off. That's weird…I thought I was the only one here… I searched the premises, reluctantly finding nothing suspicious. I walked out cautiously into the indoor arena, searching for something, but finding nothing. Hoping to provoke the coward into coming out of his or her hiding spot, I spoke.
"Ah, so it seems that it is just you and me, coward. You might as well come out and face me…" I shouted, echoing throughout the seemingly empty arena. I heard a rustle from the shadowed corner of the bleachers. I turned slowly and found myself face-to-face with that nasty bugger Fowl.
"So it seems, Greenwich, so it seems. Well, you got what you wanted. Here I am, facing you… What do you plan to do now?"
"Actually, I hadn't thought up that part yet, if you must know. Maybe I'll spit at you, or jab this sword straight through your black heart. Oh wait, I almost forgot… you don't have one! Silly me!" I retorted.
"Now, now. Tsk, Miss Greechwich, we wouldn't be wanting an unemployment matter on your record, would we?" he asked.
"What? You know as well as I do that Mr. Butler over there handles the employment of people. You have no authority to fire me."
"Do I? Well, I suppose you are correct, but I still may file a complaint to Butler about your behavior… Threatening the heir of the estate, talking smart, even I dare say seducing and trying to kill him, am I right?"
My eyes widened. Seduce? No. Kill? Yes. Had he found out my plan already? I was in utter shock. All I could do was stare at him with loathing, my green eyes flashing.
If looks were knives, he would have been to Hell and back 10 times.
"Well, then, now that you have gotten that bundle of lies out of your system, I think I shall be leaving now." I replied haughtily. "Tah."
I felt something smack my left shoulder. I turned my head to look only to have the tip of a silver sword prick my cheek. I watched as a drop of blood dripped onto the blade. I raised my eyebrow quizzically.
"Now, now, Miss Greenwich, or should I say Prime Assassin of C19 7, won't you stay for a dance?" Artemis had insulted me many times before, but this was the last straw. I whirled around catching my blade on his.
"I daresay I would love to, Master Fowl." Ugh. He sickened me sometimes.
He thrust the blade towards me and I parried, the sharp metal missing me by mere inches. I thrust my sword downwards and up, intending to disarm him, but to no avail. He blocked my attack. Our swords were locked together, bringing us, scowling, face-to-face once more.
"I did my research, Greenwich, and I discovered that not only are you an experienced agent, but that the maid job was just a ploy to murder me. What do you intend to do now that your covers been blown to smithereens?" he grunted.
"I plan to kill you as soon as possible. Are you the only one who knows?" I asked.
"Yes, but I have the ability to spread the word to every… single… " he ground out these words especially, "…person… in the manor in mere minutes." How right he was. Our blades unlocked, causing a loud screeching noise of metal on metal that caused me to wince. He whirled around, slashing the front on my tunic. "About the whole killing process… how to you intend to do it when you have feelings for me?"
This comment made me seethe with anger. How DARE he ask such a question?! "Feelings? What 'feelings'? I feel nothing except loathe for you, Fowl." With this last reply, I flipped my weapon up, catching on the hilt of Artemis's, flinging the sword into the air and onto the ground. I lunged at him, intending to stab him right there and then. However, when I lunged, he dodged, throwing himself to the ground grabbing his sword. I had my sword gripped in two hands, ready to deliver the killing blow, when suddenly my legs were kicked out from under me and I was disarmed. I dropped the sword in the confusion, the twinkling blade flying from my hands and landing about 4 feet away from where my arms lay. Fowl pointed the sword at the base of my throat, running the tip of the blade along my neckline, leisurely drawing blood. My white blouse was stained with it now, as was the tip of the sword. He pointed the sword at the tip of my nose and said:
"You think you are so witty, trying to catch me off guard. You admitted yourself the night before that you felt things for me, aside from loathe and anger. You said it yourself. 'I…Love…You.'" He put special emphasis on each word, all the while putting even MORE emphasis on them with dramatic hand gestures from his left hand, the right one being preoccupied with holding the sword at the bridge of my nose. He carried on with his comments, speaking more to himself and the air than to me. "Maybe along with posing as a maid, you're posing as a whore? Hmm…that IS a thought to think about…"
"Damn you, Fowl. I hate you. I..HATE..YOU. I loathe you with every fibre of my being." I replied, glaring at him with contempt.
"Ah, tsk tsk, Amalia. I'm afraid that's not the idea that I got from your actions last night." He stated, full of himself.
"If I'm not mistaken, ARTEMIS, you quite enjoyed the 'actions' that you got from me last night. Or at least a certain body part did…" I responded. "Now, if we're done with this petty name calling, I think I'm going to go change into my costume for a certain masquerade tonight." I turned on my heels and made to walk out of the arena.
"Yes, Butler told me that you might be going. He requested that I escort you."
"Never. I don't mingle with the likes of you."
"But it seems to me that you already have." He winked. "Either you go with me so I can keep an eye on you, or I tell of your intentions to the whole household. Hm? How does that sound, Miss Greenwich?"
I had no choice. If they found out my intentions to kill Fowl, they'd kill me. Kill or be killed. "You bloody bastard." I was surprised by what happened next. He slapped me. Obviously I had touched a nerve.
"No more of that, either, Greenwich. I will see you tonight at the ball."
"Hmph…bloody bastard…" I muttered to myself.
Well another chappie has come and gone. THANKS TO ALL MY REVIEWERS OUT THERE!! Even the mean ones, I guess.
Here's a question for all of you:
Should I write chapter 15 in Artemis's PoV??
See that blue button down there? yes that one.
Review.
And tell me.
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