A/N:

If there's anything I have to tell you, and you're reading this for the first time, then it's that all the OCs of this fic (excluding the bad guy) were designed by fellow Fowl fans, though not all the time after themselves. Also, I promise you that the OCs in this fic both serve a purpose and are not Mary-Sues, because I hate those with every ounce of my being.

I don't own Artemis Fowl.

Onward!


The Cross Species Battle: Chapter Four: Lost Souls

"We've been travelling for days!" complained Thunder, who then promptly fell onto her knees panting wildly. The dry soil on the ground crept up her fingernails and several stones cut into the exposed skin not covered by her blue three-quarters. "Can we rest now? Please?"

"Two days!" argued Shaadia, who looked back at her scowling, continuing her steady march forward. She would never let it show, but she was just as drained as her comrade, if a little more considering that she'd spent most part of the night practicing blowing with bubblegum. "And we had enough rest last night."

"Why," Thunder rolled her eyes placatingly. "Do I even listen to you?"

"Because I'm older and it's my plan. And I know more about this area than you do."

"Older bythree months. Oh yes, you know this area. You've been on one whole mission that passed it, so now you know this place like the back of your palm."

Shaadia kept right on with her marching, even more determinedly now that she had no comeback. "You should follow the plan anyway."

Thunder scrambled to her feet and caught up to her. "Helping the fairies is a terrible idea. They'll kill us on the spot. Possibly stick our heads on skewers and send them back to Zidan as a warning. And it's not like we're particularly difficult to kill, short and scrawny as we are..."

Shaadia turned to face her exasperatedly. "You are such a freaking pessimist!"

"And you think you know every bloody thing in the universe!" Thunder jabbed a finger at the other twelve-year-old. "You're going to get us both killed one of these days and the bet is on how soon that will be!"

Shaadia scowled. Then turned. Then continued walking. "The fairies don't kill people who come in peace."

"And how do you know? We never predicted it before Zidan started killing everyone who went against his orders. How can we be so sure they'll be any different?

Shaadia's next argument was stopped before it even left her mouth. Because then, somewhere ahead in the wide scorched land that once upon a time was a thriving forest, something growled low in its throat.

Both girls looked around in alarm, looked in every direction, suddenly alert on their surroundings but all too prepared to break into a run. Nothing stirred except for the prickly dust clouds and the roasted crumbs of soil that shifted with them. The endless, barren landscape continued to be just that; endless and barren, devoid of landmarks, and devoid of life.

Thunder sighed and turned back to same uncertain direction they'd been taking for the past two days. She sometimes wondered. Where would she find herself if the previous three, fours years had not taken place? If some other events had occurred instead. Would she be someplace infinitely more desirable than the heated land now? With a purpose besides this...this...

Madness. The girls couldn't blame each other. Their shared predicament was deigned to drive them insane, anyway, and change who they were, and start arguments, fights, and doubts.

"Let's move on?" she suggested.

"Let's...yeah," Shaadia sighed. "I hate this."

"We can hi-five on that," she pulled the clasps of her backpack and forged a toothy grin. "But we have some fairies to convince."

Shaadia eyed her suspiciously, and settled with, "Optimist."

They both laughed. It felt like centuries since either of them had done that.

The growl came again. Definetely a few yards behind, and ready to pounce.

Despite knowing full well what they would see, Thunder rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"I wish Zidan would stop recruiting animals!"


Coming back from the dead, as opposed to coming back from being nearly-dead, is not at all a pleasant feeling, totally unlike the feeling of coming back from an almost near-death experience to be greeted by your comrades as a hero.

Coming back from the dead means you need a reality check. You're disoriented. Your senses aren't functioning. You don't know who you are, what language you speak, and what pizza you order on a regular basis at the local deli. You don't know jack about the life you lived before. But it all comes pummeling back into you, and you're suddenly left wondering what you're doing alive, why your limbs are sewn together in a most grotesque manner, why your nose feels like its melting into a pool of liquid-goop and what that awful stench emanating from your midsection is.

By that's only how it feels to come back from the dead as a post-apocalyptic, raggedly being with rotting skin and bad teeth. Not an option fit for one as headstrong, as pompous, as Opal Koboi.

By a spin of the wheel on good fortune, she was never required to consider this. She had no need to come back from the dead. She had never been dead in all her years.

The Berserker Incident had, indeed, left her only nearly dead.

Opal had been prepared. On previous occasions she had found associates (read: forced help) in Cudgeon or the Brill brothers, but the task of cloning her a nice, strong body that would suit her drifting spirit was too major and too important to entrust to an idiot. She had thus gone on to find a most impressive candidate who desired for the fairy world no better than she did, and a meeting spot was arranged for if and when she required it.

But the soul does not store all the same memories of the brain for long; the only memories that the soul did not lose over a brief time were those of anger, those for which it desired vengeance. And so the only three things that kept her spirit's thought process functioning during her four months of being nearly dead were the following; Artemis Fowl, Holly Short and Old Koboi Blackmarket.

She had lingered in the deserted blackmarket for what felt like ages before her associate had arrived. By this time Opal had forgotten who he was, or what their agreement had been; she only knew that the lifeless clone in the portable incubator somehow had a strong connection with the vengeance she craved for the Mud Man and fairy.

That is not to say that she had initially recognized the clone, with the gleaming metal and machine parts that were its hips, upper thighs, left arm and neck– but a sacrifice had to be made and she had gone through with it. Opal no longer wished for her older body exactly; she realized that she wanted none of her human genes, and so the cloning process had been carried out as carefully and specifically as she'd instructed, machine parts replacing whatever living cells that could not be grown solely with pixie DNA.

Opal had looked upon the mechanized clone and for the first time in months felt a giant surge of accomplishment. But she knew better than to call it that.

It was really just the excitement of a vengeance close at hand.


Both girls ran as fast as their numb legs could carry them, straight across the open, parched land that offered no shelter and absolutely no cover whatsoever. Their sense of direction was lost. Clouds of dust bellowed at their feet and their shoes kicked up years-untouched mounds of earth with every impossible stride, and even they didn't dare speak a word for the very real fear that the trained beast at their heels would pounce.

But who outruns a D'Arvitting cheetah?

With a growl that erupted from its open jaws, the big cat leapt the few feet to Thunder's oversized backpack, bringing the girl tumbling down to the ground along with it. Were it not for the barren landscape, she would've incurred an injury at least, but all that was left to do was crawl onto her feet from underneath the beast's massive bulk as it tried to get past the bag and snap at her face.

She lashed out with a kick, but this aggravated the beast and it only crushed her further underneath the pack. Shaadia took aim and fired. She spectacularly missed.

The cheetah jumped off its would-be prey and circled the other human instead, thin limbs and backbone in a low crouch, teeth shuddering in a snarl.

Shaadia kept the weapon pointed, but her hands shook. She couldn't bring herself to fire straight at an animal, to injure it or to kill it; true, her hatred for Zidan ran deep, but these animals were not in his employ by choice.

The cheetah almost got the chance to make use of her hesitation. Almost. But this had been enough time for Thunder to locate a very pertinent something within the many ziplocks of her backpack and she ran, gripped onto the beast's body and plunged the sedative dart straight into its neck.

The cheetah growled loud, and the sound was terrifying in their ears, but its lids started to drop and the rigidity faded from its muscles. Thunder loosened her grip, and the big cat just stood, if a little shakily.

"That...worked fast," she breathed.

"Thanks," said Shaadia, still staring at the cheetah.

The other girl ran a hand through the massive animal's fur cautiously, stopping at the thick collar clamped around its neck. "It followed us from the camp. Look, the collar sends signals back to...shit."

Shaadia frowned, kneeling down on the other side of the dazed beast. "Why? We just need to take that off, right?"

Thunder shook her head, fear in her eyes now. "No. No. That's...not going to help us. Camp hasn't been tracking us."

Shaadia took a halting step back, hoping she could block out the meaning she was getting. It could only mean one thing, and it was one thing straight out of every rebellious recruit's nightmares. "Shit."

Thunder only confirmed this gravely.

"Headquarters is on our trail."