Okay. So I've been a very bad person and a sinner. It's been like ten weeks. I have many, many excuses, some of which are actually true, but I'm guessing you don't want to hear them all. I deserve to be shot, I know. I wrote the chapter very slowly, and every time I wasn't ready to update I'd think "Okay, I'll write another thousand words and update next week." Obviously, things don't work out that way, and I ended up ten weeks later with a three-thousand-word chapter. Meep, I feel so incredibly horribly guilty, especially since most of you asked me to update soon. I promise I'll go review all of your stories. And I suck at keeping up with reviewing, too. I've just been out of fanfiction lately. But I've reread the AF books, so I'll be more into things now. I also probably have some contradictions of things I said in earlier chapters, so please let me know if I do. But this story WILL be finished by when school's out (May 25), or I will… do something bad to myself! I'll lock up my iPod! If I don't update, you have permission to scream at me and email me and spam my livejournal. I encourage it.
The summary: I lose. I'm sorry. You may now bury me alive or whatever evil plans you reviewers have.
Summary: Right after Holly gets a job in the LEP, she cuts her hair. Each auburn lock falling through the floor makes her think about choices, and especially their consequences. What will happen after?
Disclaimer: I don't own Artemis Fowl. Eoin Colfer does.
Haircut
Chapter Twenty-One
The house looked… exactly as it did a year before. The same washed-out beige color, the same plastic flowers in the same fake-dirt places. The lights in the "sky" (actually a giant rock, since Haven is underground) were on to simulate day, but they would soon start fading to represent night.
It was about this time in Holly's childhood when she would say goodbye to Lili and her friends, when she retreated back into her home.
They took their LEP equipment off, putting them by the car—they didn't want any unneeded complications. Walking up to the door, she followed Trouble tentatively. Soon, as houses were cramped and driveways weren't very long, they were at the door.
"Well?" he asked impatiently, "Aren't you going to ring the doorbell?"
Holly sighed, mustering up her courage and pressed the little button. They heard the echoes of the doorbell ringing throughout the home, as the People were much smarter then Mud Men in that they realized it would never be heard if projected from one point only.
Merely fifteen seconds later, Mrs. Short answered the door.
"Hello?" she said cheerfully, not knowing the effect her presence had on her guests.
Holly stared. Her mother, by some strange coincidence, also looked exactly the same. She still had the long wavy red hair, European accent (that was strong enough to make itself clear in one word) and willowy form that had caused Holly's father to get in quite a few fights with other men, back in the day.
Trouble stared. By one glance at her, he could see her resemblance to Holly. The red hair wasn't the exact shade of Holly's auburn, but he assumed Holly's father must've had brown hair. They still had some of the same features, though—the stubborn chin and small nose, the wide eyes and teetering a little bit on the short side.
"Hello?" repeated Ivy Short, not as happily as before. She looked at Trouble, since he was directly in front of her, with general annoyance. Only when she allowed her eyes to shift to the side did she get a surprise.
"Holly!" she exclaimed, all excitement regained. "How are you, what are you doing here…?" She stopped in the middle of her interrogation, looking back at Trouble with a slightly mischievous look in her eyes that were so alike Holly's.
Trouble had problems with that look. It was the same look Holly wore when she convinced him into coming here.
Holly also had problems with that look, though for different reasons. After all, who can read the mother as well as the child? She quickly said, "Mom, we're here on LEP business." Accidentally, she neglected to mention that only one actual LEP worker knew they were there, who was also, coincidentally, the only worker who approved/put up with what they were doing.
The light in Ivy's eyes dimmed for a moment, but soon returned full-force. "Well, come in! Have some nettle, or maybe a peppermint? Holly, do you remember peppermints and how much you loved them?"
Holly did. She also remembered her stash of peppermints under the bed, where she would stow away all the nasty things her mom gave her.
"Mom, we have to go. Police business and all. We were just wondering if we could leave Trouble's car here, and then pick it up after the… job." Switching tactics at the last moment, she decided not to say "mission", afraid of the repercussion this might have from her mother.
Trouble's phone rang. Well, it vibrated, so only he could feel that he was getting a call. He glanced at it, wondering if it was rude to pick it up.
"Why do you want to leave the car here?" asked Ivy quizzically. She couldn't single out why her house had been picked.
"We need to stash it somewhere where it's inconspicuous." Simultaneously, Holly and her mom looked at Trouble's car. It was bright red, shiny in the fake light, and the one white stripe and navy blue window tint set every small detail off. Somehow, Ivy doubted that this car could be "inconspicuous" anywhere.
"I… suppose that's all right," she said hesitantly, but realizing something she brightened up, "but when you're done and come to pick it back up you must step in for a moment!"
Trouble's phone was still vibrating, and he itched to pick it up but good etiquette demanded that he call back. Well, and the fact that he glanced at the Caller ID and realized that he shouldn't talk to Foaly around Mrs. Short if Holly didn't want her to know what they were really doing. Elfin hearing is very good, you know.
"Well, I…" Holly thought for a moment, trying to come up with a nice, polite-sounding way to refuse. If you have any experience in life whatsoever, you should know that there aren't many of them.
Exasperated, Trouble gave up. "Of course we will," he said, dragging Holly down the street. "We'll come pick it up… later!" He waved, hoping it would be sooner rather then later when he came back for his car.
Luckily, the phone was still vibrating. Trouble picked it up.
"Hello? Foaly?"
"Yes, it's me. What took you so long? Why aren't you wearing your helmets?" asked the centaur irritably. He was not used to waiting on the line for somebody.
"Uh…" Trouble started getting his equipment back, putting on the helmet and transferring the connection from his phone so he could talk to Foaly easier.
"Never mind that. Anyway, the quickest way to the mansion from here is north for a few blocks, then there's a straight path you can take to get to the back," said Foaly.
"Alright," said Trouble, although he already knew where the mansion was. He prepared to stop talking before Foaly's voice came from the speaker again.
"And one more thing."
"What?" he asked, a little annoyed.
"The Council is holding a meeting about the future of the LEP."
"What?" Trouble repeated, this time with more surprise. He started to walk a little faster. Holly looked at him curiously.
He could hear Foaly's sigh over the phone, clear and without any of the staticy mess that usually happened with phones. Not Trouble's, though.
"The LEP is running out of money, fast. Even with the Crunchball betting and the 'paid vacation that's not paid' of half the workers, we won't last that long. The Council is gathering to figure out what to do."
Trouble took a deep breath. Time to be sensible, now. "What does this mean for us?"
"Well, Jon and his parents are present. This is good because all you'll have to deal with is the grandparents and the younger sister, which shouldn't be too hard. But the Council said they won't take that long, since there are possible people waiting to buy the LEP—"
"Buy the LEP?" The words left Trouble's mouth in shock, though he already knew what Foaly meant.
"Yeah, of course. We need a rich owner in order to keep on going. Anyway, they said they won't take long, and since the ride back here is four hours, maybe three if you hurry really fast, you need to be quick. You know about fairy documents, they're set in stone. Literally." Foaly was right. Fairy business deals, big ones, were carved into a stone plaque, to show that the deals were permanent, or at least long-lasting.
The centaur continued. "If you can get back in time, you can prove that the robbery in the first place was the Brown family's fault, and they'll have to pay back all the money they stole. Then the LEP's money problem will be solved, and voila, you two are heroes, as an added bonus."
Trouble didn't know how Foaly could joke at a time like this. At first it hadn't seemed that serious, just more of a practice-mission type. But the LEP being sold? This was a big deal.
To fully understand this, you must have some knowledge of the background of the LEP. It was started by one Jacob Pine, and rose to be a complete success, outdoing the government police by far. This was partly due to that they had a cooler name, and that they had a wider variety of jobs. Oh yes, and the fact that nobody really liked the government anyway.
But Pine had no wife, no children, and overall no living relatives. He also died mysteriously at the young age of six hundred and sixty-six, which is far younger then most fairies, especially those who do nothing except sit around all day, write their wills. Therefore, the Council decided that Mr. Pine's bank account would be the official LEP bank account, and he would be very happy in the afterlife if his money could be put to use for his beloved company.
So, basically, the LEP had no owner except a large sum of money, which had recently been plundered by a family called Brown.
And if the LEP had an owner again, everything would become messed up. Especially to a family as the Browns, who were most likely to get the company from the Council due to their prestige, money, and son.
Business was in fact a fragile world. Like a system of gears, almost. Put the pieces in the right way, and you can leave going for eternity (until it rusts, which is the business equivalent of your product falling out of style). But throw one rock, one fork into the system, and it gets messed up.
The bank robbery was one fork, but not an enormously big one. The system had been working along with that fork stuck in it, rather slowly, but working along—and soon, slowing down and almost to a stop. The Brown family was like a really large fork disguised as another gear. Throw it in, and the whole system will blow up.
Trouble knew enough about business and the Browns to know that when—if—they got the LEP, they would use it to further their own social status, and the LEP would eventually fail, turning into a social tool instead of a police agency. And even a goblin could realize that this would have tremendous repercussions on Haven, and anywhere else in the world.
He stopped and started to get out his wings. Holly followed, still curious. "Trouble?"
"Turn on your connection," he said. She did.
"Hello? Foaly?" she said quizzically. "What's going on?" Foaly sighed audibly, and began to explain.
"…So you need to get there and back. Fast," he finished. A little pale-faced, Holly took her pair of wings out also. It was likely they might be spotted, and flying in public was against regulations, but there was an unspoken agreement between Holly and Trouble that they should use them.
A few minutes later, they were prepared—with only a glance or five at the glossy wings on their backs, they took off.
Holly was slightly overtaken by the sheer joy of flying, but this joy was significantly lessened by the absence of wind and fresh air. She sighed and followed Trouble.
Trouble, on the other hand, was totally focused on his job, while still in tune with his surroundings. This was part of what made him an invaluable Recon officer—that and he was the most reliable. Signaling Holly behind him, he sped up.
Soon, they were at the mansion. It was… rather large, the word 'mansion' described it perfectly. From far away it looked like it was about to touch the sky.
Had Holly known about the White House, she would've said that this building was a perfect replica of what the White House would look like… in five centuries.
And it was. It had the same structure and similar shape, though it was larger. And it wasn't white—it was more of a futuristic gray-silver color, practically bragging about all the technology it held. It was even amazing from the back, which was where Holly and Trouble were at that moment.
"Well, Foaly?" asked Holly. "Where's our window?"
Foaly was silent for a few seconds, and Holly could hear the tapping of his fingers on the keyboard.
"At the top," he said, "and there's not much security. Her window is open, and she's not in the room, but I recommend that you shield just in case. There's a camera, and since there are no guards in the house I'm free to loop it. But watch out, they've got a whole bunch of weird things in the house. Like the kind of stuff you'd see in a Mud Man action movie."
Of course, Holly didn't know what he meant by the last part, nor did she care. Shielding, her and Trouble flew up to the window. It was open, as Foaly had said.
They flew in, retracting their wings. Holly looked up at the camera warily, but it made no sign of noticing her, and neither did the rest of the house. No alarms, no blazing guns popping out of nowhere. She relaxed.
Trouble noticed, and poked her slightly. "Don't relax," he whispered, "you never know what'll happen. You have to stay tensed and prepared."
Holly wasn't sure she liked the idea of him telling her what to do, but she nodded anyway. Trouble had already been on some successful recon missions; he'd know what to do.
They walked forward, looking around. The walls were covered with posters of various rock bands, and behind the posters you could barely see the wall was painted purple. The girl had her own computer that looked to be rather ahead of her time, and her own TV that was pretty nice, as far as TVs go. She seemed to be rather spoiled.
Holly took out her gun, just in case. Something about this place was disagreeing with her nerves.
Leaving the room, the hallway was deserted. Unless technology counted as people, of course—the place was infested with every sort of gadget. Cameras were moving about, up and down as well as right and left.
"Foaly?" she asked, "where do we go?
"Turn to your right and walk—there's stairs at the end of the hall."
"We can't take the elevator?"
"No. If you take the elevator, it'll show up on the computers. There's nothing I can do about that."
Holly sighed. Stairs were always annoying, even when you're flying on them. When you try and turn around you almost always hit the wall. "What floor do we stop at?"
Foaly checked. "Five. You're on eight right now."
Shielded, Holly extended her wings out and started to fly, Trouble at her side. They opened the door and went down the stairs, careful not to miss the signs for the correct floor. Soon they were at level five.
"Okay, what you're looking for are the camera records. They should have records from the beginning of time or this house in the computer room, which is where you're going. There you can get a copy of the video that shows their meeting to rob the LEP bank account, and you're set. The room is the door to your left."
"Foaly, there are no doors on the left." Holly looked at the wall. It was smooth the whole way through.
"Yes, there is one. Move forward and to the left—if you feel the wall, you'll find the opening. I've already unlocked it for you from here." There was more then a touch of smugness in Foaly's voice.
Holly felt rather stupid, but she obeyed and ran her hands over the wall. Behind her, Trouble was looking around.
She felt the ridge. Excited, she talked into the microphone. "Foaly, I've got it! I have the door opening!" Holly started to open it.
"Wait, Holly! This room is resistant to my scans, there could be something—" But it was too late. Holly opened the door, and a blinding flash of red enveloped her.
END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I do hope you understood my gear metaphor. Heh. And I hope I got the whole business thing right. I'm thirteen, I know nothing.
prepares self for mutilating .
