A Root and Growl
Summary: Artemis and his diminutive friends have returned from Hybras, to find they've lost three years. Three years that everybody else seems to have been living at an exaggerated rate. And of course, just when life starts to right itself after the sudden reappearance of everybody's favourite double act, Artemis gets an idea. But don't worry, he's only going to hide it from his closest Elfin friend.
Author's Note: I found Colfer's world too interesting not to have a play in it myself. Sadly, I've played in it to the point where I've attempted to emulate him. You might like it, you might want me shot. Unfortunately, neither of us can know (And I'd really like to. Kevlar is quite restricting) until you've read it, so on with the show!
It had been three and a half years since Holly Short had stepped foot into the LEPrecon headquarters as Captain, and three years since she had been in Haven at all.
Of course, to her it felt like - it was - only days since she had been nearly killed by a multimixer, and complaining about the level of publicity she had received for doing what had been, at the time, her job. But just the reactions of the general public - or, more accurately, the lack of reaction - showed the length of time she had been away better than any calendar could.
Haven had remained the same bustling metropolis it always was, but to Holly the city was entirely different. She hadn't walked down one of the main roads unmolested for almost ten years (Not counting the time shift, where she hadn't been bothered walking through the city because of the simple matter that she wasn't there), but now she was free to stroll down to the LEP main building, in her civilian clothes and a growing-out buzz cut without so much has the barest insult to her person.
She hated it.
This was the reason why she burst through onto Recon's floor, and, sparing very little energy on 'hellos' to the colleagues that had, until yesterday, believed she was dead, walked straight into the Commander's office. Had it been anyone other than Holly, and the person sat behind the desk been anyone other than Trouble Kelp, it would have been an arrestable offence. As it was, Trouble looked up from the crystal screen, saw the diminutive elf framed in the doorway and stood up so fast he lost his balance and fell over again.
"Holly." He said, standing up more sedately and covering his embarrassment well by rearranging the arrest warrants that littered his desk. "Miss. Short, I mean. How are you?"
Holly smiled. Trouble's promotion from Major to Commander had followed Ark Sool's abrupt and unceremonious departure from the LEP, and not a moment too soon. Sool had been planning to entirely remove the Eighth Family of fairies. Genocide. It was only by calling in all his influential friends and every favour he was owed that helped him to avoid Howler's Peak, the Goblin prison. Trouble was the first choice as his replacement, or, as Holly saw it, Commander Root's replacement. And it was this fact that had led her to downtown Haven in the evening rush.
"I'm well, Commander." She sat down in the chair offered to her.
Trouble smiled. "Commander. It took some getting used to. Even now, he's left some pretty big shoes to fill."
Holly nodded, an unlooked-for lump rising in her throat. After a few moments' awkwardness, Trouble spoke again.
"Is there any reason why you came down? Not that you're not welcome - I'm sure everyone would love to see you again, it's just I have to sign these arrest warrants, otherwise a lot of guilty goblins are going to be free to barbeque more unfortunate dwarves."
She took a deep breath. "I've come to ask for my old job back. Please." She added as an afterthought.
Trouble set down his digi-pen and blinked several times. When he finally spoke, his voice was wavering and thin, most unlike his usual confident self. "Holly...I don't know if I can just reinstate an officer. Especially not one who's been presumed dead for the last three years. I thought you had Mulch and your P.I. firm?"
Holly snorted. "What with Doodah, it's starting to feel a bit too much like a Deeps ex-con reunion for my liking. I want to have some authority again, not make stupid citizen's arrests on dodgy vole curry vendors."
Trouble hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes. "You're a good officer, Holly. One of the best in fact. I'll...I'll pull a few strings, let you back in on a probationary basis. You'll have to take a fair few refresher courses before you get your Captaincy back, though. Foaly's been working like stink upgrading the weaponry, and you're not exactly up to date on the latest gang wars."
Holly beamed, hopping out of her chair and skirting round the desk to kiss Trouble on the cheek. "When do I start?"
"As soon as possible. Tomorrow, if you like." A rather flushed Commander replied. "Go see Foaly. He'll fill you in on the basics."
And with that, newly reinstated Corporal Holly Short left the Commander to his paperwork, striding out of his office with decidedly more spring in her step than before.
The LEP's tech wizard, Foaly, a paranoid Centaur whose closest relationship was with his own computer-generated image, had a room situated one floor down from Recon's base. In actuality, 'room' was putting it lightly. 'Steel death-trap' was closer to the truth. Foaly had more defensive weapons in that 10x10 cube than the entire LEP had in the rest of the building. If an unauthorised fairy set so much as a toe inside the cube, they would be blasted right between the pointy ears. Or fried on the plasma floors. It depended on what mood the centaur was in at the time.
Of course, Holly undermined all of the Centaur's defences by walking in through the front door.
A tin-foil hat with eyes popped up from underneath the belly of a disembowelled computer.
"I was wondering when I'd see you around here again." He stated, setting down his screwdriver to clop over to his elfin friend. "I was almost starting to miss the sarcasm."
Holly beamed at him. "It's nice to know I've been missed."
He whinnied slightly. "I said almost."
"I hear you've been upgrading the weapons? Commander Kelp told me you could fill me in on the basics."
Foaly was halfway to the weapons rack on the other side of the cube when the full impact of her sentence hit him. He turned around; not an easy job for a quadruped in a room full of gadgets. "He accepted you back? Just like that?"
She winked at him. "Must be my charming personality."
He turned back to the weapons rack. "Or the fact he has a crush the size of a bull troll on you." He muttered. To Holly's face, he thrust up a small gun, with a moulded handgrip and several different colours of slightly sparking plasma in its polymer chambers.
"Done away with the Neutrinos. Kept a few of the basic design features - ease the transition, but it fires a completely different type of slug. Four settings, ranging from an unpleasant tingling to enough juice to boil a medium-sized lake. Plasma charges, regulator and several safety innovations, but being the Recon jock you are I won't bother explaining those."
Holly picked up the gun by the handle, staring at it with cross-eyed apprehension. "What're we calling it?"
"At the moment, its official name is a plain old Plasmablaster, but the boys in the locker room have already come up with their own nickname: Slimespinner."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Anything else I should know?"
"Nothing major. Section eight helmets are becoming more popular, but I assume you remember how they work...a few shuttle adjustments, same with the wings...other than that, it's just like old times."
But Holly had stopped listening. She had walked over to the weapons rack, and was examining an old gun which was hooked to one of the hangers by the trigger. On the bottom of the moulded handgrip, a tiny plaque read 'Julius Root, Commander'. She stroked it lightly, leaving a trail of fingerprints on the bronze surface.
"Just like old times," she repeated. "I wish."
Fowl Manor, Ireland, 5 a.m
Artemis was pacing. There was nothing unusual in the boy's nervous habit, unless you knew that the child in question had only been nervous twice in his fourteen years. His age itself was also a mystery, as, having been missing for almost three years, he should be approaching his eighteenth birthday. As it was, he was barely any different - aside from superficial injuries - than the last time anyone saw him alive.His newly-useful bodyguard, Butler, was pretending to watch the security footage from cameras dotted around the Manor, in order to give his young charge some privacy. Inwardly, however, the giant Eurasian was marvelling at the change: or more accurately, lack of it. It was true that Butler himself was no stranger to almost inexplicable time fluctuations. A lucky bullet in an upmarket fish restaurant a few years ago had seen to that. Only the quick thinking of his principal, and the magical ability of a certain Elfin Captain had kept him from death, but it had cost him the remainder of his youth. But this was on an entirely different scale. In the three years Artemis had been gone, he'd become a big brother. How strange it must feel to be gone from the world less than two hours, and to return to find that everyone you know and love has moved on.
Artemis was counting his paces. Not aloud, but letting the rhythm of the pacing and the numbers fill his head and distract him from the much bigger issue. He was about to meet his baby siblings for the first time. Brothers, Butler had told him. It looked as though his mother was consigned to being outnumbered gender wise in the Fowl household.
His Mother...guilt was eating away in the corners of his mind, like hungry moths to a priceless tapestry. Although he had never intended to leave his family for so long, he could not deny that he had. And after the toll the disappearance of his Father had taken on his Mother's sanity, Artemis Junior had never wanted to put her through the same heartache with her son, but, unwittingly, he had.
A sleek black car crunched up the expansive gravel driveway, blacked-out windows hiding shadowy movements. Butler had telephoned his parents almost as soon as Artemis had arrived back in his little cottage, and they had taken the first plane flight out from the French Alps, where the family had been holidaying, to welcome back their eldest son. Artemis's stomach dropped, and he found his palms were sweaty. How would they react? After his Father had returned, the family had been all smiles, but the disappearance was not his fault. Artemis Senior had been kidnapped by the Russian Mafia. Artemis Junior had tugged a silver bangle off an imp while he and an assortment of magical creatures had been falling to meet the Taiwanese pavement. The two were simply not comparable.
Suppressing the sudden shake that had overtaken his limbs, he managed to make it down the eighteenth-century stairway, to stand awkwardly at the foot. A key turned in the lock. There were voices on the other side of the door. Hushed but hurried voices. His parents. His mouth was dry.
The door creaked open: After Butler had left the Fowl's estate, it seemed that security and general maintenance had gone downhill. Two indistinct shapes could be made out, backlit by the greyish light that preceded dawn. The shapes crossed the threshold, caught sight of the slight boy in front of them, and froze.
None of them moved for several seconds, then one of the shapes dropped a bag.
"Father?" Artemis ventured.
There was no verbal response from the shape. Instead, it crossed over the Tunisian rug in the hallway in under three seconds and enveloped his son in a tight bear hug. The man's breathing hitched against his son's shoulder, but Artemis was too numbed by this unprecedented display of affection to feel embarrassed. Instead, pale arms snaked through gaps in his Father's hug to be wrapped around his back. He was home.
Angeline Fowl hung back slightly, her arms already occupied with two sleeping toddlers, but watched the reunion of father and son with a smile and glistening eyes.
After several minutes, the duo broke apart, and Artemis Senior surveyed the boy in front of him. In the pre-dawn twilight, he missed his son's newly hazel eye, and for that, he was glad. Explanations could wait. Artemis looked over to his Mother - or, more precisely, the two dark-haired bundles that were drooling slightly on her shoulder. His brothers. She followed his gaze and moved closer accordingly. She spared a few seconds to take in the familiar features that hadn't changed at all, despite the time difference, but she didn't question it. Explanations could wait.
"Artemis Fowl, meet your brothers, Miles and Beckett Fowl."
His father had appeared again, smiling at his sleeping sons over the shoulder of his eldest. "They don't seem to be quite as intelligent as you, Arty." He whispered, but the adoration in his voice kept the comment from becoming an insult and left it simply as a statement of fact. "But they have the same determination. I think that none of my boys would let death itself get in the way of their plans."
His Father's words caused Artemis to withdraw a shaking hand from the much smaller hand of his brother. Even now, at this emotional reunion, the boy's brain had been ticking away, and his Father's words had just sparked a theory. Or, more accurately, a scheme.
Artemis stayed with his family for a further five minutes, as they gave their son a quick analysis of their newest additions, but after that, Artemis excused himself, blaming tiredness, and after a promise to tell his parents exactly what had happened in the morning, he retreated to his study. Right now, he needed to speak to another genius. Explanations could wait.
LEP Ops. Booth, Haven
A few hours later, Foaly had moved on from the gutted computer littered across his floor, and had taken to checking the Mud People's websites for any updates concerning the existence of fairies. Luckily, the latest craze on the surface was for a different kind of magic altogether. It served to keep the Mud Boys looking the other way while the subterranean species continued about their daily lives. He sighed. It was quiet. For the last three years he'd been on constant red-alert, waiting for the energy spike that signalled the return of Holly, Artemis, and several samples of a species he had been told had died out. Now, everything was quiet. Commander Kelp was, unquestionably, a natural at the job. He hated being stuck in the Lower Elements, but his tactical brain had led to efficiency in all areas, meaning Foaly had very little to do, and very little people to be condescending to while he did it. He stretched his arms above his head. Perhaps all he needed were a few more seat-of-the-pant adventures. That shouldn't be too hard with Holly returning to the force, he reasoned.
With that thought, he made to clip-clop out of the control booth, leaving his beloved machines for another day. But one of his machines had other ideas. As he reached the door, it beeped at him; a rhythmic beeping that told him there was an incoming call. His interest was piqued. He crossed the room again and hit a blue button on the side of the control panel. A fuzzy video link popped up in a window on the computer screen.
"This is Ireland calling. Have I reached the LEP?"
Foaly pulled himself back into his specially-modified swivel-chair and let out a burst of laughter. Artemis Fowl was calling him. His prayers were about to be answered.
"Well, if it isn't my favourite snot-nosed Mud Boy, back from the dead."
Twenty miles above the centaur, Artemis grinned. There was no being alive he would class as his equal in intelligence except for the LEP technician. It was going to be an interesting conversation.
"To what do I owe the pleasure? Nobody's died, have they?"
The boy sighed, adjusting the focus of his computer camera. It was top-of-the-range, digital, but no doubt to the centaur it was as useful as a smoke signal on a windy day.
"Can't I just call to say hello?" There was a tinge of offence in his voice, a tone that often made his parents relent, but not Foaly.
A crackly whinny was heard over the computer's speakers. "The great Artemis Fowl the second doesn't make time for social calls. It detracts from his oh-so-cold image." And with that eloquent psychological assessment, an image of a darkened room filled Artemis's computer monitor. In the gloom, a distinctly non-human shape could be made out. Artemis didn't waste his breath on wondering how Foaly managed to hack into his closed system. The centaur was the only creature that had managed to tamper with the Fowl Manor security.
"Alright, if that's the way you'd prefer things. I need you to answer a question. About the time-spell."
Foaly was trying his best to look nonchalant, but the curiosity was too strong.
"Why?"
Artemis allowed a small smile to spread across his face. Time to reel the centaur in.
"Because if I'm right, then nobody will have died at all."
Ooh, cliffhanger! Kinda. You will find that I'm a cliffhanger fiend. Pretty much all my paragraphs end in them. It's like reading Goosebumps all over again.
So...like it?
P.S. The title, A Root and Growl, is a saying which can either mean to sit down and have something to eat, or is used to urge someone not to give up whether or not they're succeeding. I'll let you decide why I picked the title. :)