Hello once again. Sincerest apologies for not updating this in so long, and I'm not entirely sure this chapter will make up for it... but I will become dedicated and write good stuff... one of these days... any time now...

EVIL RANDOM VOICE: don't hold your breath people... or rather do... muhahaha

Anyway, a very merry christmas to you all. Here be part one of my christmas present to the world of fanfiction... and no, you can't return it. Nyeh to you.

Chapter 7

::::::In Haven::::::

As they approached the south of Haven, Holly and Trouble shielded and decreased their speed, looking around.

"Got reception on your set yet, Holly? Mine's still not working…" shouted Trouble.

"Nah, mine's offline too. Donkey-boy's probably taking a carrot juice break or something ridiculous like that. Any idea where this place is?"

"Er… over there somewhere. Not sure though. Didn't Root say something about a Gloopy Health Smoothie billboard?"

Holly shuddered - Gloopy smoothies were awful. Even Mulch didn't think much of them, and she was positive they contained some form of dirt.

"Yeah, probably. Wanna just land on that roof and see if we can work out where we are? I don't know about you but I'm not quite sure where I am…"

Trouble grinned and followed Holly down to the roof indicated. He landed somewhat inelegantly which caused his partner to snort with laughter and curse the fact that the cameras weren't working on the comm sets.

"So? At least I'm not lost…" he said, attempting to defend himself. Holly sniffed and quickly changed the subject.

Or would have, in an alternate universe where a laser beam had not just shot past her ear, frying a now unidentifiable billboard. Perhaps even a Gloopy one. Who knows.

The two captains fell instinctively to their fronts and rolled toward the makeshift cover an air-conditioning housing would provide. Each pulled out their Neutrinos and looked around for their assailant. To their relief they spotted a security guard jogging slowly toward them. Each unshielded and pulled out their LEP badges.

"Oy! Hands in the air, you four!" yelled the security guard, who was rather old and had somewhat deteriorated eyesight.

Holly and Trouble glanced at each other and shrugged, eyebrows raised, while lifting their hands and holding their badges in clear view.

"What under earth do you kids think…" the guard trailed off, looking rather sheepishly at the two officers. Holly looked mildly amused, but Trouble was less so.

"Sir, you are holding up LEP officers. Kindly lower your weapon, we must be on our way." Trouble said rather haughtily.

"Ooh dear, I'm awful sorry sir, these old eyes, you know…" the old elf stuttered.

"Never mind, no harm done… well, except to that billboard, but I suppose they won't mind that. You might want to lower the setting on your laser though, mate – I'd hate to get in front of it on that setting, seeing what it did to the board…" Holly glanced over to the piece of twisted metal now lying on the roof, still smoking.

"Yes miss, I'll… well don't that just beat all; I can't see the dial any more. Would you…?"

Holly took the gun obligingly and reset it to a mild stun charge. "There you go. You might want to look into some glasses, too, sir." The old elf nodded fervently and took his leave, thoroughly embarrassed. The two captains walked in the other direction, back to where they landed.

"For a moment I thought we might get a bit of excitement there," said Trouble.

"Yeah. Pity about that. That guy got up your nose a bit though, didn't he," Holly replied.

"What do you mean? That's what we're supposed to say if stuff like that happens…" Trouble countered.

"Yeah but… anyway. It doesn't really matter. So, Mr I'm-Not-Lost, where are we? And is your helmet working yet?"

"Nah, not yet. Stupid Foaly. Anyway, I believe we are about five miles west of our target, so it shouldn't take us too long to get there. Shall we?"

And the two officers flew up into the air above Haven once again.

::::::In Chester::::::

Artemis had unpacked and settled in to the Browns' guest room. He had set up his computer and wireless internet connector, and was checking his email as he heard Helen calling Jenny and him to dinner. There was nothing of much interest in his inbox anyway, so he placed the computer discreetly inside a suitcase and went downstairs to dinner.

A strange and not entirely pleasant smell assaulted his nostrils as he passed through the kitchen to the dining room, and it struck him that meals at the Browns' were going to be quite different to the Butler-prepared food he was used to.

"Artemis, dear! I mean, sorry, Artemis!" cried Helen enthusiastically as he entered the dining room. Jenny had not yet arrived, but Mr Brown was seated at the table already.

"David, this is Artemis Fowl. He's the boy from Ireland who will be staying with us for a while. Artemis, this is my husband, David Brown," Helen continued.

"Good evening, Mr Brown," said Artemis.

"Mr Fowl," replied David. Helen glared at him and pulled out a chair for Artemis.

"Artemis, you may sit here. I'd better go and find Jenny, so perhaps you two would like to get to know each other a bit? I'm sure you'll have lots in common – he's interested in computers, David, perhaps you could talk about that?"

Artemis resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Helen suggested that he would have lots in common with this man. In any case, he wasn't keen to talk to Mr Brown, and it didn't seem that the man particularly wanted to converse with him. Nevertheless, Artemis felt he needed to make one thing clear before settling into a situation of passive silence.

"I don't want to be here any more than you want me here, Mr Brown. I have a lot of research to do on microelectronics. Not to mention organise some test runs for my latest version of HuntingFowl."

David looked up despite himself. "What's this HuntingFowl? Surely you aren't one of those geeks who think they're so great because they're programming at the age of twelve and all that rot?"

"I assure you I am not. First of all, I wrote my first functional program in VB at the age of four, a computerized form of flash cards to aid me in my studies of Latin. And HuntingFowl is an operating system, similar to Windows but far superior. Although I suppose I am somewhat similar in the way that HuntingFowl 1.01 was completed when I was eleven and a half."

By this time Mr Brown was simply staring at the boy. He soon came to his senses, however, and replied gruffly.

"You say this HuntingFowl is better than Windows, eh? How so?"

Artemis allowed himself a hint of vampiric grin at this point. "Ah, Mr Brown, wouldn't you like to know. Shall we say that all the bugs are ironed out, and RAM usage is far more efficient, and that there are more than a few features which Microsoft have not yet even considered including in their programs? That should give you a fair picture."

As much as David tried to feign indifference, the boy could tell his host was obviously interested.

"It sounds very nice, Mr Fowl. Have you tried it out yet?"

"Naturally, but only on my own computers. I expect I will need to try it on something of more commercially available specifications though, if I intend to sell it to the general market…"

At that point Artemis had an idea which would benefit all concerned, particularly him, and would probably make for a smoother visit. At least with the father, anyway.

"Perhaps you would like a copy to try out on you computer, Mr Brown. I assure you that it will cause it no problems, although in the very unlikely event that your system is unable to cope with it and damage is caused, I would of course offer generous compensation…"

Artemis watched the man's face carefully. He was used to dealing with powerful businessmen with well-practiced poker faces, and after them this man was like a poster displaying his thoughts. Especially when his face lit up for a moment with interest, and then almost comically straightened itself, lip twitching in its attempt to smile.

"Now that's an interesting thought, Fowl. But here's a thought; what about other software? It won't be compatible, I guess…"

"On the contrary, Brown; the first HuntingFowl was based mainly on Windows and has grown from that – all Windows-compatible software is compatible with HuntingFowl. As far as I know, anyway – I've tested the hundred most popular programs and they have all worked. Microsoft Office programs are fine, obviously, although I am working on a HuntingFowl version of that which will, like the OS, be far superior to the current."

"Not bad, not bad. Alright, I'll give it a go, and you'll fix it or whatever if the machine breaks, right?"

"Naturally," replied Fowl.

"Dinner!" cried Helen as she brought in the watery pea soup. Jenny was helping her carry in the bowls, and the smile on her face reminded Artemis of his own in a rather disturbing manner. His heart sank along with his appetite as he saw his dinner placed in front of him. He murmured a half-hearted "Thankyou" as Helen placed it in front of him, but resolved not to touch it. Or perhaps to touch it, but complain of… delayed reaction travel sickness. Yes. It would be brilliant. Unless Jenny caught him out. But he'd some up with something. He always did.

Artemis watched for when the other people at the table began to eat, and then started on his meal with great gusto. At least, he took one spoonful of soup with great enthusiasm, swallowed it, and complimented the cook.

You're going to burn in hell for that, Arty-boy. It's probably the most blatant lie you've ever told in your life.

Oh, for heaven's sake. Not you again.

I could say the same about you.

I'm not even going to go into the ridiculous logic behind that.

Well, it is after all your logic.

I don't have time for this right now. Why don't you plague me during school or something?

Oh, I'll be there then too, count on it, Arty dearest.

Can't wait. Then again, your mindless blabber is probably more intelligent than what the teacher will attempt to tell me.

While thinking this, Artemis was slowly stirring his soup with a slight grimace on his face. This, unfortunately, attracted Mrs Brown's attention.

"Don't you like the soup, Artemis?" The boy's head jerked up.

"Soup? Oh, yes, it's great…"

"Is something wrong then, de- Artemis?"

"Not feeling entirely well, I'm afraid, Mrs Brown. Delayed reaction travel sickness. Terrible nuisance." Artemis watched his hostess' face carefully. She seemed to buy the story. Her daughter, on the other hand…

"Delayed reaction travel sickness? Does that even exist?" Jenny asked in a very sceptical tone of voice.

"Jenny! Manners, please. If Artemis says he's ill, don't question him. Is there anything you would like, Artemis? Or perhaps you should go upstairs and lie down."

"I think I shall, Helen. So sorry I can't finish your delightful soup. Some other time, perhaps?"

"Of course, of course dear! Well off you go, and if there's anything you need, just call me. I do hope you feel better in the morning – I think you're due to start school tomorrow."

School. Now Artemis really was starting to feel ill. Mindless stupid teachers attempting to fill the diminutive minds of idiots with useless rot. And not even a computer terminal in most classes. Awful.

He excused himself from the table and went upstairs. After a miraculous recovery from his delayed reaction airsickness (a terrible affliction indeed) he retrieved his computer from the suitcase and began to copy a disk of HuntingFowl 3.09 for David Brown.

::::In the Grounds of Fowl Manor::::

A head with a horribly distended jaw emerged from a flower bed, about fifty metres from the front door of the Manor.

"We're close… so close, my preciousss, so close…" hissed the dwarf to his rock Ursula. He had been watching many movies while living the good life in America, and had taken a liking to Gollum from The Lord of the Rings movies. They had such a funny interpretation of elves in those movies though. If only they knew… he chuckled. Although they got the love of nature right. But the robes and long hair... Mulch mentally compared an image of Arwen to one of Holly. It was quite funny really. He'd have to tell her about it sometime. Hopefully she wouldn't be locking him up next time they spoke, though – it always seemed to kill the conversation whenever she was attacking him with a buzz baton. Although, granted, they were working on it. After all, it had become a fairly common occurrence.

Mulch looked up at the house. He still hadn't come up with a brilliant plan, although he had realised that he would have a bit of a chance if he just went to the door, because they didn't generally have guests picked out by snipers, did they? No, he reassured himself, they did not. Leaves a horrible mess on the porch, and after a while blood just doesn't come out any more.

He climbed out of the hole and sauntered quickly to the shade of the row of trees onone side of the driveway.

Anyway, I hope that wasn't too bad... and I'm very sorry I haven't updated in ages, as I probably said already... oops. Oh well. Please review if you can be bothered!