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As promised - Reviewer Feed Back (in order of received)

xXSanctusAvaritiaXx - Yes, I need one of those alarm clocks too! I got the idea from my ethics teacher who said he'd had one in the eighties which he'd shout swear words at and it'd turn off. To bombard – means dropping things (heavy things usually) in large quantities onto something else. Usually has connotations of war – heavy shelling/bombing etc. I just meant that people should inundate me with reviews :) Also, just to clear this up - Artemis wasn't going to a sleepover at the end of the last chapter, that was just a lie told to placate his mum... (the plot thickens)

FoxGlade - Loving the crazy enthusiasm! *punches air* Thanks! Yes! Plot points coming! I've decided on two... maybe three... the plot bunnies are breeding but I know how this is going to end, so that's good :)

Lili - THANK YOU FOR TEACHING ME SPEECH GRAMMAR! God, I'm so glad you did. I was speaking to my friend (who hated English class and is about to do chemistry in uni) and SHE knew how to do it and I didn't... I'd never even noticed before, and you made it so clear! Thank you! Please read this chapter – hopefully I've got it right this time – and feel free to critique again, your comments are DEFINITELY welcomed :D

HappyHappyJoyjoy - My do you love the caps lock! Thank you!

Ru-Doragon - I love that you gave me a little insight into your morning routine in your review, unorthodox but it made me smile... I also liked the fact that you like this story even though 'it doesn't make much sense' LMAO. Thanks for the review!

CileoCrimisi - I know it's a little late but here's the update :) I'm not eight months off time...

Harprani - So you want Holly to tell Artemis about the dreams? Well tbh I actually wrote that whole scene out for this chapter (all nine pages of it) but... promptly deleted it. That's most of the reason why this is late. I wrote so many different people on the end of Holly's communicator before finally deciding on...

RoseRedMisery - Sorry chick/butt but it's not gonna happen tonight :) Don't be too angry with me *cowers*

THINGS YOU MAY NOT BE FAMILIAR WITH SO SHOULD LEARN BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER!

To get plastered - To get very very very DRUNK!

Hookah - multi-hosed tobacco pipe originating from India (but you can find them all over now) where the smoke is cooled and filtered by passing it through water. They can also be used to smoke other stuff as well as tobacco.

The Picture of Dorian Gray - AMAZING novel written by the Irish-born genius Oscar Wilde. It's about a young London socialite who makes a wish to keep his beautiful looks forever and is granted his request in the form of a portrait (painted by his doting friend) which ages and withers instead of him. Dorian then goes on to indulge in a whole manner of scandalous acts (murder, drugs, drink and *gasp* homosexuality (although that is only strongly insinuated... very strongly)) and watches as through the years only his painting bares any outward consequences of his actions. Eventually the guilt drives him barmy and he confronts his portrait at the end of the book. Some of you may have seen the film version that wasn't made that long ago...

Louis XVI (16th) - King who was executed in the French Revolution by GUILLOTINE, so he lost his HEAD... His son, another Louis, never inherited the throne because a republic was set up after his father's death and the ten year old heir died of horrific maltreatment before the restoration could come about. However, out of respect for the lost child-king the next ruling monarch became Louis XVIII (18th) and not Louis XVII (17th) in recognition that that title should have belonged to the young prince. (you don't need to know the last bit about Louis XVII but my mum told me it on the way to Tesco one day and I thought it might be interesting to pass on. Was I right, lol?)

Disclaimer : I am not Eoin Colfer but all the characters in this fic belong to him... apart from The Baron, Tuley, Volga and Henry the acne-ridden Octopus.

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'Do you keep your portrait in your bedroom?'

'Sadly, no. The only portrait in my room is of you, my dear, in which you are completely naked but for your collagen vagina...'

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A sudden buzzing noise broke her out of her reverie.

'I'M AWAKE!' she bellowed, then realised it wasn't her alarm.

Tumbling clumsily out of bed she made for her coffee table, pushing aside magazines and greasy take-out cartons before finally finding what she was looking for.

She flicked the communicator open.

'Hello?' she said, pressing the receiver to her ear. 'Artemis? Is that you?'

Chapter 4 - Fathers Night

'No,' came the somewhat disgruntled reply. 'It's me, Trouble.'

Holly felt relief melt her knees to jelly.

'Trouble!' she breathed. 'It's you!'

'I think we've established that...'

She gave a laugh, clapping a hand to her forehead.

'Gods, I thought you were-'

'Artemis Fowl,' completed Trouble. 'I know.'

Holly flopped back onto her battered two-seater.

'So what's up? I mean...' she coughed, trying to regain some degree of professionalism. 'What's the situation, Sir?

'No situation, Holly. Not that I'm aware of anyway... but you do seem to be expecting a call from the world's most infamous mud-weasel, so who knows? We could all be about to die.'

The she-elf blinked.

'And what's that supposed to mean?'

The Commander snorted and to Holly's sensitive ears it sounded like he'd pulled sandpaper across his own nose.

'Don't give me that, Hol. You know full well what I mean. Gods! If you told me he'd built a concentration camp for unicorns I wouldn't be bloody surprised.'

Holly gaped.

'Concentration camp for-? Trouble, what are you talking about?'

'Oh, you know.' He said bitterly. 'Just that whenever Fowl gets in contact with the People it's usually because he's about to drag us into some sort of horrific catastrophe which he's caused, but wants us to get him out of regardless of whether anyone has to risk death along the way.'

'That's not true,' said Holly flatly.

Back in his own cramped inner-city apartment, Trouble Kelp put a clenched fist to his forehead.

'And there you go again, Holly! Defending him! Like he's somehow worth your effort!'

Holly sat up, her countenance equal parts amazed and enraged.

'Damn right he's worth the effort, Trouble! He's a changed man! Atlantis Complex was one of the best things that could have happened to him. He's been forced to realise the cost of his mistakes.'

'Doesn't mean he'll stop making them.'

Holly was fuming.

'Why did you call me, Trouble? Was it really to start another row about Artemis?'

'No but almost.'

'Why?'

'Foaly told me to phone you,' he said, as if laying down a winning trump in cards. 'He said you'd been acting strangely yesterday and that as your commanding officer I should keep an eye on you.'

Holly felt like her chair had been pulled from under her, dumping her with a thump to the floor.

'HE TOLD YOU WHAT?'

Trouble raised a jinking eyebrow.

'I would remind you, Captain that I am your commanding officer and will be spoken to with the proper tone and respect.'

The she-elf smirked nastily, an expression she'd learnt from a certain human boy.

'But of course, Commander,' she simpered. 'I wouldn't dream of speaking out of turn! Which is why I say this with the utmost respect...'

Holly held the phone out in front of her.

'GET OVER YOUR RIDICULOUS JEALOUSLY OF ARTEMIS, STOP GOSSIPING ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK AND NEVER CALL ME AGAIN AT TEN IN THE FRIGGIN MORNING AS IF WE HAVE SOME SORT OF ONGOING PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP!'

The elf hurled the handset onto her abandoned bed sheets and let out a frustrated howl.

I'm going to regret that later, she thought as she stripped angrily for the shower. But right now I couldn't give a flying Fowl.

'Artemis Fowl! It has been much too long!'

Baron Victor Kilglooney strode over to his newest guests and seized the hand of Artemis Senior.

The Fowl Patriarch smiled.

'Victor,' he said genially, shaking the pudgy palm. 'It is good to see you also. I assume you remember my wife?'

'Dear Angeline!' exclaimed the man, 'How could I forget?'

He reached for her hand, taking it carefully in his own and pecking the skin above her knuckles.

'Good evening, Baron,' she said warmly, 'and thank you for inviting us tonight. You have a truly beautiful home.'

Victor laughed dismissively at his own grand entrance hall; an area which was perhaps twice the size of Fowl Manor's own towering lobby. It was also three times as bright; hung as it was with several low hanging chandeliers, with lit silk drapes streaming from the walls. Milling people filled the rest of the space, gathering around little tables filled with upper-class nibbles and uniformed by golden feather centre pieces.

'You flatter me, Angeline,' blushed the Baron, his ruddy face turning an even deeper puce. 'You have always been too kind...'

The mother smiled and placed a delicate hand on her son's shoulder, pressing him into Victor's attentions.

'I doubt you will remember this Artemis. After all, he was only an infant the last time you met.'

Vincent appraised the teenager before him. The boy was dressed impeccably, wearing his tuxedo with a sort of familiar ease that the Baron had never seen in a person that age. His dark hair was slicked back from his face revealing a large forehead and darkly shadowed eyes, but a clearly youthful face.

So the rumours are true, thought Victor. He hasn't aged a day.

'Nonsense!' exclaimed the round host amicably despite his secret discomfort. 'Of course I recognise him! He has barely grown after all!'

Artemis' parents laughed. Their son was about to reply with something scathing when a thick knuckle pressed between his shoulder blades, stilling his tongue. It was Butler of course, reminding him to keep civil.

'It is good to see you, Victor,' said Artemis Junior stiffly. 'You look well.'

The Baron rubbed his paunch fondly.

'Hmm. Not bad, not bad. My daughter, Maria, has got me into all sorts of sports lately; badminton, horse riding, even Karate of all things!'

Artemis glanced once at the speaker's stomach.

'Yes,' he drawled. 'I have always heard you were a... well-rounded gentlemen.'

'Artemis!' interrupted Angeline brightly, as aware as Butler of her son's sharp tongue. 'Why don't you go join the other young people? Go and mingle, hmm?'

'Excellent idea!' proclaimed Victor brightly. 'I dare say they'll welcome it, a new face to talk to!'

Or a fresh bone to chew on, thought the Fowl heir wryly.

'Yes,' agreed Artemis Senior. 'I think that would be best. Although I haven't seen many teenagers around here, Victor. Have you locked them all away somewhere?'

'Of a sorts!' admitted Victor with a chuckle. 'My youngest, Martin, has set up a sort of retreat for them all in the east wing. There's a disco-tech, some games tables and plenty of hidden corners for them all to skulk in. It's quite the den! Of course I suspect he's also stocked it with enough hard liquor to sustain the Russian army but who's to begrudge the young ones a bit of light fun. It's not as if they're in common company is it? Perfectly safe within the house.'

'There we are, darling,' said Angeline, squeezing her son's arm, 'a good chance for you to enjoy yourself.'

'But not too much enjoyment,' added Artemis Senior smirking slightly. 'I remember many a happy drunken night when I was his age, but they were always invariably followed by a miserable sober morning and half of it spent in the company of a bucket.'

Three fifths of the company laughed at this. Butler and Artemis kept their faces a practiced mask; one out of professionalism, the other to disguise his disgust.

'Well, off you go then son,' ordered Artemis Senior, his eyes bright. 'You'll only be bored stood here with us.'

The teenager smiled tightly before nodding once to the Baron and walking away from his parents.

Once clear of the general hubbub, Butler spoke to his charge.

'I'm going to take a wild guess here,' he growled, 'and say you're not going to want to go to Martin Kilglooney's den and spend the night getting plastered on rum and fruit flavoured alcopops. Do you want me to find an empty room for you? In the library perhaps?'

'No,' replied Artemis crisply. 'I am indeed heading towards Master Kilglooney's den but do not, however, intend to get remotely plastered within it. It is my Mother's plain wish that I socialise more with people my age and frankly, Butler, I am sick of the constant encouragement. By showing my face at this...' His nose wrinkled disdainfully. 'Gathering, perhaps she will relent in her haranguing.'

The giant Eurasian was more than a little surprised.

'Are... are you sure?'

'Quite. I will be there five hours maximum, and what could possibly happen in five hours in this house with nothing more to amuse me than a room full of drunken pubescents and a disco-tech?'

What indeed? thought Butler, mentally rolling his eyes. After all, the siege was only three hours longer and nothing horrible happened there did it...

The grinding but unmistakable noise of heavy dance music began to drift into both men's ears as they grew closer to the east wing. Groups of teenagers started appearing in litters along the luxury corridors either leaning against the stippled walls or being propped up by another person, leering dizzily.

'Attractive,' observed Artemis dryly.

He could see the entrance to 'The Den' now, framed by wide double doors both folded back so large groups could pass through without difficulty. Two black curtains obscured the rest of the party, so all Butler or Artemis could see were brief glimpses of strobe lighting as the drapes were pulled apart by teenagers leaving and going.

Artemis turned to face his manservant.

'I think I can take it from here, Butler,' he said, having to raise his voice slightly over the mix of booming music and squealing drunken teen. 'I'd escape while you can.'

'Hmm,' droned Butler thoughtfully. 'Noise, darkness and hundreds of spoilt, drunken, possibly angry and or amative fourteen to nineteen year old all trapped in a small heated space... I'm sorry Artemis but there is no way on this planet that I am allowing you in that room alone.'

The Fowl heir steepled his fingers.

'Butler. You are always telling me that one day there will come a time when you will not be able to accompany me... you have also told me that one day there will come a time, possibly a risky or nerve-racking time, when I am not going to want you to accompany me...do you catch my drift?'

The Eurasian's mouth was slightly open.

Am I getting this right? He asked himself. Artemis, MY Artemis, wants me to go away so he can-

'Henry!' gasped a girl who was being pressed against the corridor wall by a gangly acne-ridden school boy. 'Get off me!'

The Henry in question glanced up from her chest, looking half panicked, half injured.

'But y'said y'wer up f'it,' he slurred, his face ruddy from rubbing his nose between her breasts.

'I am,' she confirmed impatiently. 'I just don't want you putting your fingers up my skirt in the middle of a sodding corridor!'

'Oh,' he said stupidly. 'Well why didn't y'say summin?'

He grabbed her hand and dragged her away, the girl staggering in her heels whilst singlehandedly tugging her top up.

Artemis raised one thin eyebrow and looked pointedly at his manservant.

'All clear?'

Butler nodded slowly.

'Crystal.'

'Good,' beamed the teenager. 'Well, if you'll excuse me...'

He dodged his towering manservant, heading swiftly for the open double-doors. Butler barely had time to blink before there was a swish of black curtain, a flash of escaping light and noise and the young master was gone.

The Eurasian watched the curtain for a long stunned moment before turning away and stalking back up the corridor.

Artemis wouldn't want to be spied on, he reasoned to himself, and he'd only discover me if I did. Anyway, it is only a teenager's party and not a Triad gathering...

The manservant sighed, rubbing at the Kevlar weighing heavy in his chest.

He's fifteen years old, Domovoi... it's natural that he's not going to want you around as much... he's growing up...

He eventually emerged back into the main ballroom which was full to the ruffles with Europe's richest. Angeline Fowl was stood beside a towering hors d'oeuvres table talking in a small group of distinguished women. Every one of them was in a floor-length haute couture gown with a nugget-sized jewel dripping from every major pulse point.

Butler scanned the crowd for Mr Fowl and found him deep in conversation with a sallow-skinned Asian man and a worried looking Baron Kilglooney. Artemis's father was speaking lowly to them and gesturing discreetly in the direction of the staircase. Butler watched them move stealthily through the crowd before ascending the steps, the Asian man and the Baron exchanging nervous glances.

Perhaps I should inform Artemis, thought Butler automatically but then thought better of it.

He probably doesn't want to be disturbed right now...

A vision of Henry, the pimple faced boy with arms like an octopus, sprang suddenly into his mind.

Don't be ridiculous, he thought angrily. Artemis is a gentlemen. A little unorthodox at times but he would never dream of acting lewd... and anyway, if he wants to meet a girl tonight then he isn't likely to do anything too dangerous or drastic like...like kidnap one...

Butler shivered involuntarily.

No...Surely not...

Artemis was breathing smoke again. He took long drags of it, letting it fuel his lungs, feeling it cloud his mind. Around him, flailing bodies wrote patterns in the fumes; their limbs carving twisted script into strobe-flashed smog. The crowd moved as one, jumped as one; connected by flesh, cloth and flying sweat. Heat pressed him, bass drummed him and his own mutinous heart rammed the inside of his ribcage like a hardened fist against prison bars.

The Fowl heir stuck close to the wall, skirting the masses that had flocked to the dance floor and passing into the relative calm of the lounge area.

The lounge area consisted of a dozen scattered card tables where groups of teenage oligarchs formed caricatures of Las Vegas casino scenes. Loose clothed girls draped themselves over the backs of stiff-seated boys, watching as their chosen player drank and sweated their way through rounds of poker or less confrontational black jack. Around the outskirts of the hall, low sofas were pushed back against the skirting boards. These were mostly occupied by adolescent lovers, their hands as unsteady as their breaths, but there were a few sofas which had been claimed by calmer tenants. These all crowded round embellished hookahs and Artemis watched as they passed the extending hoses between themselves, laughing as they exhaled swirling clouds from bitten plastic mouthpieces.

He looked around for a place to go next. The all-encompassing fumes were already beginning to make his head spin and he had no intention of going back to Butler without unchallenged control of his senses.

A wide balcony led out from the lounge where the odd pubescent raver was slumped against the balustrade in an attempt to cool down. Elder teenagers seemed to have gathered out there as well, laughing and joking together on the few couches they'd managed to drag outside. Artemis walked to a part of the barrier that was devoid of youthful occupation and leant against it restfully, staring out at the dark grounds spread before him.

'Artemis?' exclaimed a voice from behind him. 'Artemis Fowl, is that you?'

The Fowl heir turned. Stood just behind him was a tall boy of around seventeen years of age. He was dressed in a white tuxedo, a risky choice by most people's standards, but this youth was blessed with the double benefit of height and beauty so could pull it off without effort.

'Tuley Brannagh,' sighed Artemis. 'Looking well as always.'

Tuley pulled the shorter teen to him.

'God, we thought you were dead,' he breathed, hugging the Fowl close. 'But here you are still obstinately alive and looking like you've never been better!'

'Oh, I do apologise,' replied Artemis from somewhere near the youth's chest. 'I never meant to disappoint you with my continuing existence. The next time I partake in a long leave of absence I'll be sure to die before returning.'

Tuley laughed, releasing his friend and slinging a long arm round his shoulder.

'Come,' he said brightly. 'Let's get away from the scummy hoards. I've a room prepared upstairs where we can both catch up properly...'

Artemis sat back in a recently restored Georgian armchair and let out a contented sigh. A fire glowed not four feet from him and a worthy companion was laid on the chaise longue opposite, resting a glass of some golden liquid on his smooth stomach.

'So where did you go, Art?' asked Tuley Brannagh curiously, his left hand dangling to the carpet. 'And don't tell me to "respect your family privacy". Tell me properly.'

Artemis smiled.

'I was confronting some... personal demons.'

'Loan sharks?'

The younger teen laughed, sliding deeper into the cushions. 'Nothing so mundane.'

Tuley was disgruntled. 'And your appearance?' he said. 'You were missing for three years and yet you look like you've never left. How do you explain that?'

Artemis smirked. 'Guess.'

Brannagh's eyes narrowed. 'No. There's no point in guessing when you're just going to tell me.'

There was a tense silence in which Artemis was reminded that despite appearances he was still speaking to a boy hardened by years of criminal activity and unused to being played with or refused.

The last time they'd met, Tuley Brannagh had been thirteen years old and had been working hard to assist his mother in her world renowned 'hired-help' business. This would seem to have been a healthy occupation for a young, impressionable teenager... except the people hired from Sheila Brannagh's help were all female, all asassins and all very good at their job.

The Brannaghs were not a family you'd be wise to upset.

'Alright,' accepted Artemis, sitting straighter. 'I'll tell you. But you are not going to believe me.'

Tuley sat forward on the couch, his suit jacket opening to reveal the strap of his shoulder-holster.

'Try me,' he said quietly.

Artemis sighed. 'Magic.'

'Magic?'

'Magic,' confirmed the smaller teen, leaning forward towards a crystal decanter on the table. 'Or more specifically time travel. I look no older because I am no older. Simple.'

Tuley stared at him, his smooth jaw tensed. Artemis remembered the expression well; the boy was either about to shoot him or burst out laughing. He was betting on the latter, but who knew with Tuley Brannagh.

The bigger teen let out a sudden bark of mirth.

'Fine!' he declared, throwing his hands up. 'You win, fairy boy, have it your own way. I'm bound to find out the real truth at some point. I bet it is something deliciously embarrassing and that's why you're refusing to tell...'

Artemis smiled into his fat tumbler, relieved that his gamble had paid off.

'Anyway,' continued Tuley who had stood to refill his glass. 'What's all this I hear about you going on the straight and narrow? I've heard the rumours and I haven't believed them, but I still want a contradiction from the horse's mouth.'

The Fowl heir frowned at this.

'There is no contradiction,' he said. 'I have given up crime... on the whole. By the end of this year I will have tied up any loose endeavours and will be completely clean.'

The juvenile Hit-man manager gawped openly.

'What?' he bellowed, his natural Derry accent rearing up in his anguish. 'But you're a Fowl! It's what you do! What you gonna do instead, huh? Take up feckin pottery?'

Artemis snorted.

'No,' he said patiently. 'I have taken up Environmentalism; a much more satisfying past time.'

'Environmentalism,' repeated Brannagh weakly. 'That's even worse...'

The door opened behind him, admitting a dark haired girl of around eighteen years of age, dressed from head to toe in glittering Vera Wang.

'So it's true,' sneered the girl. 'Artemis Fowl Junior has come back to haunt us. And just when I thought I'd never have to see your ratty little face again.'

'Ah, my dear Volga,' smiled Artemis, standing respectfully. 'You don't need to waste your pleasantries on me. I imagine it is quite an effort to speak with a plastic face.'

Tuley half smirked, half winced.

'Now, now, children,' he said, stepping between the girl and Artemis. 'We are all friends here.'

Volga Boujinsky tossed her dark hair angrily over her shoulder, grabbed the trail of her dress and stalked further into the room.

'I don't know how you've got the nerve, Art,' she spat, her accent betraying her eastern European past, 'to mock me for a little cosmetic surgery when you have plainly had the works.'

Artemis blinked.

'Firstly,' he said coldly. 'To say that you have had a little cosmetic surgery is like saying Louis XVI had a bit of a haircut. Secondly, I have never been vain or desperate enough to undergo a serious operation for reasons surplus to my health, nor will I ever. So, Volga, I regret to inform you that you are sorely mistaken on both accounts.'

Volga glared at him venomously.

Elgar Boujinsky had been an illegal shipping tycoon, specialising in provisions smuggling and mass transportation. Almost a decade ago he had formed a deal with Artemis Senior to open a new trade route to the old Boujinsky homeland, starting with a sweetener of 250,000 cans of cola. Elgar had been so confident in the plan he'd accompanied his partner on the maiden voyage of 'The Fowl Star', a boat he'd had named for the Irish crime lord, and as a result had died in the sinking.

The underworld had lost its best boat-man, and Volga had lost her Father at ten years of age.

For this reason she hated the Fowls.

'He's telling the truth,' noted Tuley from the fire. 'It is magic not surgeons that are keeping him young.'

The girl huffed and sat down in Brannagh's vacated spot.

'Of course,' she spat. 'It was only a matter of time until he started dealing with the devil. Do you keep the portrait in your bedroom, Dorian? Has it already started to decay from your soul?'

'Sadly no,' drawled Artemis, his face picture of regret. 'The only portrait in my bedroom is of you, Volga, in which you are completely naked but for your collagen vagina.'

The girl's eyes widened.

'Artemis,' snapped Tuley. 'Stop it.'

The Fowl heir dipped his head to the taller teen before sinking back into his seat. It felt good to let rip after so long of being civil; his Atlantis rehab had been so taxingly polite.

'Is it time yet?' demanded the Boujinsky heir, whilst determinedly not looking at Artemis. 'Have they all gathered?'

'Well it is nearly midnight,' observed Tuley. 'They can't be far off starting now.'

'Starting what?' asked Artemis, this new revelation breaking him from his thoughts.

The elder teens exchanged knowing glances.

'The meeting. What else would we be talking about?'

The Irishman's frown deepened. He was not used to being the only ignorant one in a room.

'I don't know,' he said levelly, his pride in his throat. 'I was not aware of any meeting.'

The girl smirked nastily.

'Out of the loop are we?' she sneered, her nose wrinkling to the extent the plastic would allow. 'Not so hot now your girlfriend's dead.'

Artemis' expression froze.

'Volga,' barked Tuley.

Brannagh glared down thunderously at Volga, warning her with his eyes before turning back to Artemis who hadn't moved an inch since the girl's comment.

'There's a meeting tonight for all the top European bosses,' he explained softly. 'All that would come. They're gathering to hear from a relative newcomer who's been making a name for himself these last few years. Goes by the alias "The Neck"'

'"The Neck"' repeated Artemis, some distant expression creeping back into his eyes.

'Hmm,' nodded Tuley. 'The name sounds laughable, I know, but this man has already proved himself to be truly dangerous. Rumours are he was behind the mafia purge in Russia six months ago and he was the one who reopened the Singapore drug routes. Apparently he's done a lot more besides but through other families and organisations.'

He took a swig from his glass.

'"The Neck" doesn't like to crow.'

Artemis stared at the fire. 'It seems as if he is simply reclaiming my Father's old stamping grounds.'

'Well, of course!' sneered Volga and the two boys raised their eyebrows.

She blushed but kept her face determinedly brazen.

'Your Father has been out of action for half a decade,' she continued. 'All his old ties are abandoned. Only a fool wouldn't take advantage of the new territory...'

Artemis nodded.

'She's right. It's what I would have done if I hadn't...'

'Developed a moral compass?' suggested Tuley.

The fifteen year old smiled. 'Exactly.'

'They are meeting in the west wing,' continued the girl, smoothing her dress. 'Around twenty members altogether.'

'My mother is in there,' said Tuley.

'And mine,' nodded Volga. 'She has been continuing my father's work since...'

She trailed off.

'Well,' murmured Artemis, breaking the silence. 'This is most intriging... but really has nothing at all to do with me, not anymore. The Fowl Family are now completely legitimate, every single one of us.'

Tuley and Volga exchanged underhand glances.

Not underhand enough.

'What?' snapped Artemis, his gaze flicking between the both of them. 'What do you know?'

'Not much,' admitted Tuley, avoiding his eyes. 'Just that the meeting tonight is for all the top bosses, retired or otherwise...'

Volga's expression hardened. 'It's a recruiting session, meant to persuade active members to join the Neck's organisation and for the retired ones to reactivate and reoffer their services as well. He is meant to be making them an offer that they will all be unable to refuse...'

Artemis felt like he'd swallowed something by accident. Something heavy and putrid.

'And my Father...' he whispered.

Volga and Tuley both looked down at him.

'I saw him go up with them,' said the girl. 'He will be a part of the meeting.'

'Part of the conscription,' corrected the taller boy bitterly.

The Fowl Heir gripped tightly to the leather of his armrests.

'And when does this meeting start?'

Tuley glanced at the clock.

'Around two minutes ago.'

Artemis lurched out of his seat and sprinted from the room.

So what did you think?

This will be the partner plot to the whole 'dream sequence' line so I hope you liked the introduction.

Good idea? Bad idea?

I'm just really interested in exploring the crime side of Artemis' family. I mean it's got to be difficult to just stop being a Crime Lord after having a family reputation spanning several centuries...

I'd love to hear your views :)

But Holly will definitely be back again in the next chapter and so (I think) will her dreams!

On another note... I wrote an entry for Kitsune Heart's 'The Big Reveal' competition (or how I like to think of it: THE COMPETITION) called Diamond Grains and Talus Piles, so I'd ask you to go check it out if you already haven't. You can vote for it if you like on Kit's profile (don't know when the poll opens) but it's really just my first go at writing romance so I'm mostly just looking for constructive critique. Thanks guys!

NOW REVIEW THIS CHAPTER

or we'll be forced to duel Orion style...

'Please sweet reviewers do not force my hand! for I will strike for the good of all!'