Guess I've found a new love of one-shots just as I was trying to quit...

Ah well.

This is a gift for Rocket Axxonu by small way of apology.

It's clean as a whistle 'cept one use of a British semi-swearword for bum :P

Butlercise

"Which is exactly why we sold the first accounts."

Artemis Fowl kicked the door shut behind him. He heard the thunk a split second later as six pneumatic bolts sunk into their titanium housings. No-one was getting into his apartment now; not without his fingerprints, password, personal scent or a pitch-perfect, hummed rendition of 'Ashes to Ashes' – not unless they had ten elephants to spare anyway (or perhaps four Butlers). Not if they were human.

"No," he continued, looping his scarf free from about his neck. "Briggs was appointed head of the Hong Kong deal. I wanted you to negotiate with Dubai."

He strode across the room, dropping his phone onto what looked like a hammock built for hamsters. A man's face immediately flickered to life above it, the hologram so detailed and clear you could see the sweat beading in his ashen hairline.

"I– I am dealing with Dubai, Doctor Fowl," stuttered the figure. "They're just being stubborn. I sent Farnes last week–"

"Farnes is far too green to be dealing with those people."

"He's a clever man–"

"He is an educated man – there is a difference." The twenty-four-year-old sighed and rubbed at the skin between his eyes. "But never mind this now, Faraday, it's getting late. No doubt Marissa is already making rude gestures at me out of sight."

The man's eyes flickered to the left, and Artemis knew he was catching his wife's. Faraday gave a small laugh and smiled.

"She apologises, Doctor."

The younger man shook his head. "Goodnight, Nicholas."

"Goodnight, sir."

Faraday's image faded, a streak of long brown hair just sneaking into shot before he fully vanished. Artemis stared at the spot a moment more before sighing and pulling off his overcoat.

Ten minutes later and he was slumped in the centre of his living-room sofa, his bare feet propped on a faux-leather pouffe and a cup of Darjeeling cradled in his hands. He closed his eyes and breathed in the steam. It was comfortingly floral, like the Manor conservatory on a Sunday morning... He smiled at the thought of home. He hadn't been back in over five months. Perhaps he should charter a flight soon. He had some business in Edinburgh in a fortnight's time, maybe he could–

Then the black-screened television burst into life.

"Hello, Artemis," said a bald man at its centre.

Artemis jumped so violently he upturned his teacup, spilling boiling water all over his legs.

"Hope I didn't scare you," continued Domovoi Butler, as his charge cursed and slapped at his trousers.

"Butler," he spat. "What is the meaning of–?"

"If you're trying to talk to me now, I wouldn't waste your breath. This message is pre-recorded."

Artemis fell silent, scowling. In contrast, his ex-bodyguard grinned. He was wearing wide sunglasses against a high noon glare and a Hawaiian shirt big enough to fit a buffalo. Juliet, his eternally effervescent sister, could be seen splashing in the sea just behind him, challenging what appeared to be an entire rugby team of bulge-muscled Australians to a game of over-water volleyball.

"You are meant to be on holiday," muttered Artemis, taking his seat again. "Why must you feel the need to check on me?"

Butler had retired as Artemis's fulltime bodyguard over a year ago. It had been a wrench to come to the decision – for both of them – but Butler's chest was only getting worse. Artemis now took a younger member of the family with him when in need of proper protection; a stern-faced thirty-something called 'The Sergeant'. The rest of the time he stayed with his Butler and conducted business without much risk of assassination or kidnap. The only thing that really changed was that the aging Eurasian could now part from him whenever he wanted, and did, most often when he wished to see Juliet. During those infrequent times Artemis would either decide to fend for himself or call up Butler's younger, albeit less affable, replacement.

Domovoi Butler smiled. "Myles assured me that this message would turn on when you were seated and suitably relaxed."

Artemis's lips thinned. Of course. Just so he could have me jump out of my skin.

"I know you've been busy this week sorting out the Middle East deals, and Myles tells me that someone called 'Farnes' is making a right pig's ear of things but…"

A vague sense of foreboding stirred in the young man's stomach.

"I phoned Johann at Super Fit and apparently you still managed to turn up for your circuit training session on Saturday."

His stomach roiled a little more.

"I was surprised, Artemis, I really was. I know how you hate circuits and I'd thought that with me out of the way you would have skipped it despite having assured me you would attend." Butler's eyes grew hard. "So I did a little check of the security cameras. First thing I noticed was Johann arriving to work that morning in a 1956 Jaguar XK140 Roadster."

Artemis put his head in his hands. The Jaguar was one of his own cars. He had lent it to Johann the previous night in return for the lie. And he had specifically told the man not to drive it in Manhattan.

Butler continued grimly. "I then did a check of the security cameras inside the gym. Someone who looked very much like you, very much like you, appeared to be doing jumping jacks in the fitness suite with Johann at 19:56 which coincided with your scheduled slot… but the same person then picked his nose at 20:17 and wiped his finger on his shorts. Artemis, I know you weren't there."

"La Traviata was being performed that night!" exclaimed the young man, pointlessly and childishly, he knew. "It was the last night at The Metropolitan Opera House…"

The on-screen Butler was unmoved. "Myles has told me that there was a last night performance of some opera running that evening and yep, sure enough, I've checked the cameras at The Met Opera House and despite the very becoming ginger wig Artemis, I still know you took a seat in the second row of the parterre."

Artemis slumped back against his sofa. Rumbled.

His manservant leant towards the camera. "So I know you haven't done your exercise this week."

The man rolled his eyes "I am no longer a–"

"And I know you're twenty four and old enough to make you own decisions on your health… but old habits die hard. And I've picked up far too many from you."

Artemis frowned. "Now what is that supposed to–?"

"With a little help from Juliet, I've created an exercise video–"

Oh God.

"–and it'll start playing once I've gone off screen." He looked his charge firmly in the eye. "Artemis, I want you to do it."

Artemis rolled his eyes and got up off the sofa, snatching up his cup and saucer and stalking away to the kitchen.

Then something began to tick in the region of his media station.

"Now," continued the on-screen Butler, with slight amusement in his beetle-black eyes, "Myles has told me that there is a 98.6% chance that you will have just walked away and set off the proximity alarm. If you don't walk back towards the living area in the next ten seconds, a series of motion-sensitive paint canons will drop from the ceiling and fire at you from thirteen separate locations coating you from head to foot in a substance with Beckett assures me won't come off for five weeks. It's also apparently purple and smells strongly of horse pee."

Artemis's jaw dropped. His hands had clenched involuntarily into fists, snapping the china handle from his teacup. For a moment he just stared at the screen, appalled… Then he took a sharp step back towards the sofa.

The ticking became fainter.

Butler grinned. "Myles has assured me that you will have moved back by now. If so, good. If not, then I might extend this holiday a little longer–"

"Just get on with it," growled Artemis.

As if having heard him, his manservant ploughed on. "There should be a pair of shorts and a T-Shirt under the sofa you were sat on. And a pair of trainers."

The young man dropped to his knees and groped under his couch. Sure enough, he pulled out a thin package containing a pair of black gym shorts and a T-Shirt he recognised from his teenage years at the Manor. There was also a pair of sneakers in his size. Someone had scrawled a smiley face onto the netting just over the toes.

"Beckett," spat Artemis, as if the name were something explicit.

"The video will start thirty seconds after I've gone off screen," continued Butler. "That should be enough time for you to change. From then on, I've been told that the sensor will track your movements. If you fail to match the actions on screen by at least eighty per cent accuracy then the sensor will trigger and you'll be doused with Beckett's canons." The manservant nodded to the screen. "Good luck, Artemis, and apologies. I wish it hadn't had to come to this."

His bodyguard faded, along with his grin, to be replaced by a small, ominous countdown. Artemis cursed and began to struggle out of his damp trousers. He almost tripped in the process, staggering sideways and causing the sensor to begin to tick again.

I cannot believe this.

He ripped them down and tossed them onto the sofa. His tie slipped off easily but his buttons were proving too slow an obstacle. He undid the three at his collar and then wrenched the whole thing over his head.

Myles! The little–

Glancing at the screen he saw he only had ten seconds left. He yanked up the black shorts and squeezed himself into the T-Shirt. He'd grown quite a bit since he'd last worn it.

"Randomosity?" he muttered, looking down at his chest with disgust.

Beckett. Of all the shirts he could have chosen…

He stamped on his trainers without undoing the laces and looked up at the television just as his bodyguard appeared again. The old manservant was sat in a Dojo of some kind, his legs outstretched.

"Ah!" he said, in fake surprise. "Artemis! Welcome to this special edition of Butlercise! The DVD!"

"Butlercise–?"

The sensor began to tick again so Artemis hurriedly sat on his rump.

Eighty per cent accurate…

"Right," said the aging Eurasian. "This DVD is broken up into three parts of which I'll be leading two. We're going to take things slow at first, just warm you up." The manservant closed his eyes and stretched up his arms. "Just follow me. Up…" He took a deep breath "and out…" His arms swept outwards and down, exhaling slowly.

Artemis mimicked him, his face less than serene.

"Up… and out... Up… and out. Good."

The young man scowled. The T-Shirt was too short for him now, and every time he raised his arms it would hitch to reveal three inches of pale stomach.

"Now bring your right arm over..."

Artemis did as he was told and grimaced at the stretch along his side.

"Now the other arm…."

Chopin was playing faintly from the speakers, calming him and encouraging some form of timing to his movements.

"Now stretch forward."

Artemis reached out and actually gasped at the pain running up the insides of his thighs. The sensor began to tick threateningly. He forced his spine to bend further. On screen, his manservant's forehead was practically on the floor. It was indecent.

Eventually, just before Artemis thought his hips would crack, Butler straightened and the young man released a cry of relief.

"Now," said the manservant happily. "Up on your feet."

Ten minutes later and Artemis was gasping for breath. On screen, Butler's bald head was sheening slightly, but other than that you wouldn't have known he'd moved.

"Good!" he announced. "You should be well and truly warmed up by now!"

"Warmed… up?" wheezed Artemis.

"I can hand you over now to my co-instructor to take you through the main workout."

"Main…? What…?"

Water. He wanted water.

But instead he got a tall blond woman appearing on his television screen wearing a neon sports bra, long sweat pants and a tight orange headband looped over her ponytail.

"Hey, Arty!" beamed Juliet Butler.

Artemis swore loudly.

"I'm here to take you through the main bit of the workout, the fun bit!"

"No," groaned Artemis. "No, please..."

"Now, I know my bro wants me to do something boring with you like squats and push ups and things, but circuit training is for people with no imagination so instead we're going to doing… danceasize!"

Artemis sat down. "No," he said firmly. "No way. I shall take the five weeks of violet horse urine, thank you very much."

On screen, Juliet had grown a most unsettling smile. "Now, Myles has told me–"

Artemis felt a headache brewing. The sensor had started to tick again.

"–that there's an 87.5% chance that you've just sat down and decided to take getting soaked with whatever that nasty purple stuff is that Beckett was talking about. So, he says to just remind you that he has these in his possession and that if you don't get off the couch in the next seven seconds you won't just get pelted with the horse pee liquid, he'll upload them to your company website."

Juliet disappeared from the screen to be replaced by a high quality photo of an eighteen-year-old Artemis, doubled over, his raven head almost between his knees, trapped in the jaws of a broken deckchair. The present Artemis jumped to his feet.

"Where did he get that?" he squawked.

He had flopped into the chair one lazy afternoon before anyone had had the chance to warn him it was faulty. The head rest had swung up, clapping him on the neck, just as the frame beneath his knees had collapsed. The result had not been comfortable or dignified. Butler was visible in the picture, about to wrench the wooden frame apart and release him. Juliet was creased in the deckchair beside him, tears streaming, howling with laughter. Artemis thought he had destroyed every copy of that photo after Foaly had taken the still from a video on the Manor's CCTV and distributed it around the LEP.

Apparently not.

Artemis fumed silently.

The image changed. This time the picture showed him at twenty-one years of age, frozen mid-bounce among a throbbing crowd. He had leapt up beside a grinning blond boy who had a long arm just looped about his shoulders. Artemis's left hand was thrust in the air, his mouth wide open, his eyes clenched shut. He was screaming, passionately, in the same way as all the other strange people around him, the collar of his sleeve-less T-Shirt pulled loose, half of his hair slicked across his forehead with sweat. As a 21st birthday present, the little demon, No.1, had taken him back in time to 1974 to see one of the Chicago dates in David Bowie's Diamond Dogs Tour. He had transformed himself into the blond teenager stood beside Artemis, and an hour later, when Bowie had sung 'Rebel Rebel', he had slung an arm over his best friend's rocking shoulders, clicked the camera, and this photo had been the proud result. Artemis had wanted to burn it when he first seen it but his mother had insisted on putting it safely in the family album entitled "Special Memories of Arty".

The image changed again. It was another celebration-related photo, taken shortly after Holly's promotion party when she had achieved the rank of Wing-Commander. On the night of the official celebrations, a twenty-three-year-old Artemis had become tipsy enough on sim-wine and magic that he'd unwisely tried something offered to him by Mulch from a hipflask. They had found him three days later hand-cuffed to the gates of the Forbidden City wearing nothing but an ill-fitting bowtie and the back end of a pantomime horse. The picture on screen was the mug-shot taken by the Chinese authorities. He was still wearing the bowtie and grinning winningly at the camera.

The twenty-four-year-old Artemis hissed. "Myles," he said quietly. "If you're watching this, as you undoubtedly are, you had better start making plans for your safe channel out of Ireland."

The ticking noise was building to a deafening crescendo. Artemis quickly got to his feet and the noise steadied.

Juliet appeared back on screen. "Okay?" she asked. "You ready? Otherwise I'm so not coming near you or your apartment for the next two months…"

Artemis's eyes narrowed murderously.

Her grin widened in response. She jogged back from the camera until she was posed in the centre of the dance studio, a wall of mirrors lining the wall behind her.

"Okay," she shouted above the pounding festival music with had just begun to boom. "We'll take it slow, just ease you into it. Don't worry, Arty, I know what your dance skills are like!"

Artemis felt like spitting fire. One of the few memories he had of Holly's party rose to the forefront of his mind. Something about the tango and Foaly…

"So it's right together, left together! Right, together! Left, together! Go!"

Artemis began to shift his feet, feeling like a complete and utter fool. Juliet was managing to do something frankly snake-like with her hips as she moved but Artemis didn't attempt it. Then the sensor began to tick angrily. His eyes widened and he introduced a sort of bounce into his step. That apparently satisfied it and it steadied.

"Keep it up!" encouraged Juliet. "Now we'll move our arms as we go. Right across! Left across! Right across! Left across!"

This took a surprising amount of his concentration. And just when he'd got the hang of it she stopped.

"Right!" she cried, spreading her feet wide apart and dropping so her hips were level with her knees. "For the next bit I want you to get low like this!"

Artemis copied her wearily, already feeling the ache in his thighs.

"And bounce you bum!" she continued. "One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!"

Artemis began to bob and within ten seconds wanted to cry.

"Now carry on bouncing but punch to the beat!" called Juliet. "Punch, two, three, four! Punch, two, three, four!"

He jabbed weakly, and grunted, his hair falling in his eyes.

"Now introduce a jump on the fourth beat! So it's Punch, two, three and jump! Punch, two, three and jump!"

Four is death, he thought, as he complied, I was right; four is death.

"Now, this next one's a little weird," warned Juliet, standing up and somehow still smiling, "but I know you can handle it! So don't give in!"

He grimaced. As if I have that option.

"Paint the wall! Paint the wall!" Juliet trotted forward with her palms outstretched, first to the left then to the right. "Now drop into the squat, link your hands and thrust them up over your head, that's one move. Then roll your hips around, bring your arms down and thrust your chest out."

"What?" blurted Artemis.

Juliet laughed, once more as if she'd heard him. "You'll get it, you'll get it! So it's paint the wall, paint the wall, arms, around, drop and chest."

Artemis tried to copy her, he really did. His brain had the sequence logged and processed but his limbs simply didn't have the speed or muscle strength to follow it. The sensor had begun to tick again.

Juliet jogged across the studio and fiddled with the music bar. By the time she was back in the centre of the screen a new song was playing, approximately eight times faster than the first.

"Okay!" she called above the drums. "Now we're going to do the whole thing in one big routine! I know you're a quick learner so this should be easy peasy for you. It's just: right-together, left-together, right-together, left-together. Drop, two, three and jump. Punch, two, three and jump. Paint the wall, paint the wall. Arms, around, drop and chest! Got it?"

Artemis laughed weakly.

"One, two, three, four!"

The sensor ticked lazily as Artemis began to thrust, bounce, jab, gyrate and pump along to the music. His face was soon glowing, his hair growing damper with every drum beat. But he didn't care that his T-Shirt was stuck halfway up his torso now or that his shorts were in danger of showing off more than would perhaps be decent in company. Whatever he was doing couldn't be called 'dancing' – if he were horizontal it would quite possibly have been called 'fitting' – but it was over eighty per cent accurate, according to the steady tick of the sensor, so that was fine by him. Anyway, it wasn't as if anyone was there to witness his shame. No-one but possibly his brothers and they could be dealt with swiftly enough…

Such a shame that Holly Short was stood behind him in the flat's marbled entrance way, staring down into the living area as if Spring Equinox had come five months early. She had been there for two minutes and was already having to force herself to take deep, steady breaths so as not to lose control and expose herself.

Oh my Frond, she thought. Oh dear Frond.

The Mud Man flipped his arms above his head and wound his hips about in a circle. Holly clapped a hand over her mouth. It was almost too funny. It was even better than the time she'd watched him talk to a hat-stand for twenty minutes after drinking that concoction of Mulch's at her Wing-Commander party...

"Arms, around, drop and chest!" ordered Juliet Butler from the television, sounding more like her brother by the second. "Arms, around, drop and chest! Okay! Now we're going to introduce a turn after that!"

D'arvit, thought Holly.

She looked around for somewhere to hide. There was nowhere close to her. Artemis's choice of décor outside of the manor was annoyingly modern and minimalist. The kitchen was to her left, but it could clearly be seen from the open-plan living area where Artemis was still bouncing around.

Juliet was bouncing too. "Arms, around, drop and chest. Jump, turn-turn. Jump, turn- turn – until you're back to the front again."

"Jump, turn-turn," panted Artemis.

Holly swallowed a yelp and leapt behind the breakfast island. As soon as she was fully concealed, something began to beep very loudly.

Artemis faltered in his step. He had missed Holly but he had heard the beep.

What? he thought. What?

He was keeping above eighty per cent accuracy. Frankly, he was danceasizing his arse off. So why was the damned sensor speeding up?

Then he realised that his 'tick' was steady.

"Jump, turn-turn!" cried Juliet.

As Artemis jump turn-turned he attempted to scan his apartment. It was hard to concentrate with his vision bouncing and his muscles screaming but he thought he saw a tuft of flame-red hair poking out from behind his breakfast island. The beep was picking up speed.

"Holly!" he hissed.

And by his next revolution she had risen from her hiding place. She was stood in her uniform in front of the sink, grinning from ear to pointed ear.

"S'up Mud Man?"

"Dance!" he wheezed, turning quickly back to the television, mindful of the sensors.

She laughed, somewhat surprised that he hadn't slowed down or stopped. "Yeah, I can see that… Kind of."

He swallowed and shook his head. He was close to collapsing, but he knew that if he paused now he would never finish the routine, and he'd be purple and stinking of horse urine within ten seconds. Not to mention publicly ruined if Myles released those pictures.

The beep was getting louder.

"Sensor!" he gasped. "On you… got to… dance… too!"

The elf pointed to her chest. "Me dance?"

"Yes!"

The beep was one a second now.

"Come… here!" he cried.

"Punch, two, three and jump! Punch, two, three and jump!"

"Nah, I think I think I'll just watch you. You're so good at it!"

"Paint the wall, paint the wall!"

Artemis swore viciously. Holly really was surprised then.

"Come… here!" he repeated, the tendons standing out on his neck.

The elf frowned. "Alright," she muttered. "Keep your shorts on."

She walked down into the living area so she was stood on the rug beside him. It was hot here. The exercising Mud Man was giving off enough heat to power one of Foaly's generators. And that beeping was getting really annoying.

"Dance!" he insisted.

"Why?" She folded her arms. "Frond, Artemis, I just came to say hi, can't you just pause your video for a sec?"

"Can't… pause…" He swallowed. "Brother's purple horse urine."

"What?"

He thrust his linked arms over his head. "Brothers… thebeeping…"

"Yeah, that is getting quite irritating now. Can we turn it off?"

Then thirteen mechanised paint-canons dropped from Artemis's ceiling.

Holly's neutrino was out and primed within a second but the Mud Man jumped and elbowed her hard, almost knocking it out of her hands. She swore.

"What is–?"

"DANCE!" he roared, and something clicked in Holly's head.

She started to dance.

"Cross-together, cross-together," panted Artemis. "Cross-together, cross-together."

She quickly copied him and noticed that the beeping slowed. The canons didn't retreat however.

"Punch, two, three and jump!"ordered Artemis. "Punch, two, three and jump!"

She punched, two, three and jumped, and slowly, ever so slowly, the guns whirred back into their hidden brackets. Beside her, Artemis had closed his eyes with relief, not having enough breath to sigh.

"What," she said between bounces, "the d'arvit… is going… on?"

He shook his head, too busy trying not to pass out.

"Why," she continued, "have you had… dance-sensitive… canons… installed in…. your ceiling?"

"Jump, turn-turn!" cried Juliet. "Jump, turn- turn!"

Artemis gritted his teeth and concentrated on punching. Holly jabbed alongside him, getting to grips with the routine much quicker than he had. Their beeps and ticks settled in time. It was ridiculous. If anyone were to walk in on them now they would see a grown man wearing a child's T-Shirt punch-samba-ing in exact rhythm with a small, flame-haired woman dressed in a Power Rangers outfit... and would then have to join them or risk getting doused with something a lot like purple horse-pee.

Then, just as Artemis thought his leg muscles were literally going to ignite, Juliet stopped bouncing.

"And we're done!" she announced with a grin, not even out of breath.

Before she had even finished the word 'done,' Artemis had collapsed into a heap on the floor. He lay with his limbs spread-eagled, eyes shut, brow furrowed, breathing like a hippo in labour. Holly stood over him, hands on hips.

"Now what the d'arvit was that all about?"

He nodded weakly. "Yes… Yes…"

"Artemis? What just happened?"

He swallowed. "Can't…. Ergh."

She grabbed one of his sweat-slicked palms. But despite her pulling he remained where he was.

"You're almost done, Artemis," said a deep and familiar voice. Holly looked up at the television screen and saw Butler stood in the centre of an otherwise deserted dojo. "Just got the cool down to go."

Holly noticed a loud ticking noise.

"Artemis," she hissed. "There's a sensor thingy going off."

The Mud Man either hadn't heard her or had decided not to care. His head lolled onto the carpet, his limbs as lifeless as a ragdoll's.

"Artemis."

Then she noticed the beep. That was her sensor wasn't it?

The canons stirred above their heads, twitching in their housings.

She rocked her friend's shoulder. "Come on, Artemis. Just one more stage to go! We can finish whatever this creepy video is and you can collapse later!"

Video Butler spoke again, "Myles has told me that there's a 99.9% chance that you've collapsed by now. If you stay on the floor and the sensors find your vitals to be in working order then you'll still be sprayed by the stuff. If they find your vitals in irregular order they'll ring for an ambulance…"

Holly didn't like the sound of the spraying stuff. Especially if Artemis's brothers were in any way involved. She knew what had happened to their geography professor.

She yanked a little more urgently on the human's arm. "Arty!"

"Only the cool down to go, Artemis," said Butler. "A few light stretches so you can walk tomorrow, and then you can shower and sleep."

The beeping and the ticking were both growing ominously fast. Holly stood closer to the television and the beeping slowed. She nudged Artemis's leg with her boot.

"You heard the man," she shouted. "Shift it!"

He still didn't move.

Frond! she thought viciously. He's faced trolls! And yet one video workout and he's done for?

A few of the canons were descending now. Holly saw them out of the corner of her eye.

Tick, tick, tick tick-tick-tick-tick.

The elf reached into her belt.

Oh Frond, she thought as she pulled out her buzz baton. He is not going to be pleased with me for this.

She flicked it to the lowest setting possible and connected the end to his elbow. He gave a muffled scream, spasmed, and flung himself away from her. Holly moved after him and grabbed his wrist, driving his sudden motion.

"Up we go!"

He staggered upright at her direction and the ticking calmed. She turned him around so he stood square in front of the television.

"Breathe in!" she ordered. "And out!"

Artemis complied, eyes slightly unfocused. On screen, Butler was raising his arms. Holly stood behind his jelly-limbed charge and gripped the human's elbows, forcing his limbs upwards and then down in a circle.

"Breath in… and out," she said. "Breath in… and out."

Now Butler was bending at the waist, pushing his hands towards the floor. Holly quickly shoved Artemis over. The young human nearly collided head-first with the screen so she wrapped her arms around his legs and strained backwards to stop him from toppling.

"Artemis!" she spat, her face smushed against the back of his shorts. "Can you get a grip now, please?"

But apparently he couldn't. And the beeping had started again. She cursed and kicked at his ankle.

"Artemis!"

His hands dropped down against the floor so he was braced forwards, his bum propped high in the air. Holly sighed and let him go. She stood beside him and bent forwards until her palms could flatten against the rug. She felt the stretch up the back of her legs and the beeping calmed… Then Artemis's knees started to bend.

"No," she warned, but the ticking had started again and Artemis was heading rapidly into a prayer position. "No!" she snapped and dropped to her knees beneath him, pushing at his knees and setting his legs straight again.

Then the beeping started.

"Oh, for the love of–"

She turned, swift as a cat, and pushed herself up into a pyramid beneath him.

"Breathe in…" said video Butler. "And out…"

Holly's cheeks burnt. She could feel his weight against her back, his stomach curving over her. Artemis's fringe was hanging loosely over her face. It smelt faintly of pomegranate beneath the cooling smell of sweat. The beeping had slowed.

"Now straighten."

Thank you, thought Holly. She stood up, gripping Artemis's scrawny forearms and bringing him with her.

"And you're done," announced Butler with a smile. "And hopefully don't smell of horse pee."

Holly frowned, confused, Artemis's arms still draped forward over her shoulders. The television switched itself off and the sensors' tick and beep both faded. She heard several whirrs above her head and knew that the canons had finally retreated.

She titled her head backwards and looked up at the Mud Man towering over her.

"So," she said. "Care to explain?"

He opened one eye, the hazel one, and gave her the weakest of smiles. "Never…" he breathed, "miss… a circuit training… class…"

And, amazingly, I managed to keep it 'circuit' related :P

This was inspired by a Zumba class I went to last night. The music for Juliet's routine is 'Elle aime les DJ's' by Party Crew because that's one of the songs that the class used.

Hmm, now that's finished... back to witchcraft!

But give me some reviews yeah? Please and thanks?