Chapter Text
The purpose of fundraisers is to raise financial support for a cause, charity or enterprise. It is organized so that the people get to pay for your project. Very exciting stuff, the prospect of free money anyway. Although, unlike the past endeavors of the person co-hosting this particular fundraising gala for Women's Aid - Ireland's Domestic Abuse Charity. This was completely legitimate and had their parents happily mingling with the guests.
Artemis leaned on the dark mahogany of the stair railing, watching the family's acquaintances chatting and clinking their champagne glasses together. He wore midnight black slacks that folded at the hip to give visual flare and a silk button up. His chest and collar had protruding and layered ruffles that made Artemis think as he was getting dressed in front of his mirror
"I resemble a flamboyant bird, why must I look like I'm about to perform a mating dance for our guests?"
He gently rolled the flat champagne in his glass. As well as this ostentatious shirt, there is a bright pink ribbon atop it! At this point, he was just nitpicking. First it was the off-center fruit bowl, then that woman's curl that stuck out further than the rest, and that different shade of gray for the curtains. Artemis clenched his jaw to distract himself from the discomforting tingle running up his spine.
The weight is his fidgeting hand shifted. Artemis looked down to realize he was pouring the contents of the glass all over the ground floor. He hurriedly stopped and flicked his wrist to stand the glass upright. Fortunately, it wasn't a lot of the expensive liquid. The dazed boy glanced around, hoping nobody saw his mishap.
He swallowed a gag. How were the other guests happily lapping this stuff up? Even at the first sip of his drink, Artemis would have preferred to stop there. It was sickly sweet and extremely fruity. He was never a fan of champagne for that matter, but he knew his mother loved it. Exactly how she would have liked it actually, so sweet.
Artemis clenched his jaw to distract himself from the discomforting tingle running up his spine. A familiar twinge in his nerves. It was not fear, Artemis Fowl didn't get nervous in a room of donors and diplomats. It was that low, crawling awareness. The kind that used to send him into paranoia induced spirals. Not again. Not again.
There were too many movements that didn’t quite sync the way his mind insisted they should. His gaze snagged on small details. The slight delay between the musicians’ tempo and the rhythm of applause, the way a waiter turned left when everyone else drifted right, the subtle repositioning of the men stationed near the balcony doors.
Artemis looked closer. Security, he assumed. The men's faces were so uninteresting they blended with the window they were guarding. Even with his parents' status they rarely hired anything more serious than polite deterrents. Artemis exhaled slowly, grounding himself the way he had been taught to. Observe. Categorize. Dismiss.
The men wore suits that were too well-fitted to be rented and too plain to be fashionable. The rules of a uniform, certainly not wanting to draw any attention to themselves. Their shoes were impeccable apart from just the bottom of their sole. No shoe dragging here. Their posture didn't look relaxed but merely practiced at appearing so.
His chest tightened.
He had made this mistake before.
Reading patterns where there were none. Paranoia dressed as intellect. Artemis soothed himself by grazing his hand over the puffed sleeve. Feeling the folds of the fabric as his eyes wandered. Across the room, his mother was laughing. It broke through the hall and almost startled him. She continued, making Artemis face reflexively twitch with a ghost of a smile. The scene was warm. Ordinary. Safe.
This was a charity gala, Artemis reminded himself. Not a hostile takeover. Yet his pulse ticked faster as his throat dried.
Stop.
He had promised himself not to spiral like this again. Not every irregularity was a threat and not every unfamiliar face was danger. Artemis straightened from the railing and stepped down into the crowd, forcing his focus onto the murmur of conversation, the scent of perfume and polished wood, the swell of music. He had almost detached himself when someone bashed into him and almost knocked him over.
A woman in a silver dress with a face like his mothers. Artemis almost wanted to turn to see her again.
“Sorry,” she said softly before being whisked away by the flow of the crowd.
His wrist pinched cold and a tingling ran up his arm.
The champagne glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against marble. Artemis's limbs felt like they working against a mirror. All moving in the opposite direction. He tried to stumble towards Butler, his mother, father, anyone that he could trust. The feeling of dry but burning cotton climbed up his airway causing him to cough and gag on thin air. The memory of where he was here started to blur.
A flare of attention rippled through the room as they saw Artemis gasping and stumbling.
Then the lights dimmed and turned warm, creating a romantic scene for the main hall. Nothing happened at first other than people shuffling in curiosity towards the stage. Was this a performance of some sort?
Artemis really started to panic then. He was given the schedule of the gala down to the last minute, this was not supposed to be happening!
The heads of the attendees all merged and spun around each other. The ground tilting beneath him as the back of his head felt like it was stuffed with rocks. Where did he want to go again? Somewhere safe, not here, wherever here was. There was a strange darkness around him. As though his range of vision started to rapidly shrink.
Strong arms secured a firm grip on the weak Irish boy's body before it could fully collapse. For a heartbeat, he nearly let himself believe he had fainted. That this was embarrassment, not danger. It certainly looked that way to the few people that were watching him.
His skin prickled.
The world tilted away as the pain in his body caused his vision to curl. Numbness spread from the side of his neck down his spine.
His thoughts slowed like syrup poured over ice. It really wasn't his imagination then. Not paranoia.
His limbs weakened, but his mind remained just awake enough to take in the the space that his body was moving through. The smoothness of his captor's stride, the way guests instinctively parted as if prompted, the seamlessness of it all. The gala continued behind them, music swelling to mask the disruption, laughter returning in uneven bursts.
No one interrupted the man that was making Artemis float away into the abyss. No one followed or questioned. A service door opened and the cool night air swept over his face. His neck sore from lolling over the man's forearm. He wanted to move, he wanted to leave, he wanted to be put down. His mouth unmoving to his brain's request. Darkness pooled at the edges of his vision. A different man came into Artemis's view, their eyes meeting briefly, there was no anger there.
“You’ll be fine if you cooperate, Fowl.”
The words landed distantly, like sound underwater.
Artemis tried to smile.
It came out faint.
Of course.
So the unease hadn’t been madness after all.
A dreamless sleep. Like the ones Artemis would have when his mind was resting in the early hours of the morning. His eyelids lifted with struggle. Bubbles of vision came to him, so did a subconscious teaching. I must stay calm and gather as much information about his situation before uttering a single word.
The walls were off white and the room was illuminated by an overhead installment. Artemis's neck stayed unmoving. His limbs were still fuzzy and heavy, his wrist stung and pinched with discomfort. In his mind not a single memory about his arrival surfaced, why would it? But in there was an extreme desire to just go back to sleep. Artemis closed his eyes and let the soft material underneath him to pull his body to the ground.
After an undeterminable amount of time there was a sound of thudding on the door. Artemis was tempted to just let his head continue to pulse on the foam pillow but instead he sat up. The pull of restraints made the disorientated guest grimace, less than ideal to be trapped in an unfamiliar place against your will and restraints tying you down. The material was akin to leather with metal fixings, impossible to cut with traditional blades.
The strange knocking continued but Artemis didn't acknowledge it. Taking more interest to his surroundings. To his right, there was was a desk and chair setting. On the desk was a sort of modified monitor and PC set up with wires running from it snaking into the ceiling. A model similar to the one he had back in his home actually. Shadows moved vaguely behind the frosted glass of the door in front of him.
"Mr. Fowl, if you do not open this door then we will let ourselves in. Is that understood?" It was a male voice, so firm that it easily broke through the barrier of said door.
Artemis narrowed his eyes in thought, should he open it to them?
The question was answered for him when the door opened with a rattle of a key. The hinges eerily silent. The mystery speaker, a towering man with broad shoulders shifting beneath a fitted coat, stepped in first. Not carrying an obvious weapon it seems. He had shaven sides with hair just on the top of his head that slicked to his right. So, Artemis was most likely still in Ireland.
"Good day to you Fowl, how are you feeling?" He asked, staring Artemis down. Behind him, two uniformed guards took position near the walls and exit. If it weren't for Artemis's keen attention he wouldn't have notice a capped woman slip behind the man. Her eyes watching the captive and observing the room. The door sealed shut behind the crowd.
Silence filled the room. Artemis could hear the light breathing and troubled heartbeat loom in his chest. His hands faintly tremoring against the cuffs holding them to his bedframe. The man kept looking at Artemis, a cornered animal.
Only when Artemis shifted his eyes briefly to his restraints the man started to speak.
"Ah. Those." He said lightly. "Forgive the inconvenience. We never know what a Fowl has up their sleeve."
Fowl...my name! My family, he's referring to my family name. That's oddly formal, he mustn't know too much about me. I don't recognize this man.
"They're merely a precaution," he continued. "Not a punishment. Yet."
Artemis swallowed then demanded. "Who are you? Where am I? Why am I here?"
A small voice started to speak. It had a brittle timbre with an American-Irish accent. "Now, now, no need to get defensive, but I guess it's only fair if we introduce ourselves" A small woman emerged from behind the man's back. "Hello Mr. Fowl, my name is Ms. Hale and I will be one of your primary chaperones and guardians here at LIATH. Beside me is Mr. O' Neill."
"And it will be our responsibility to ensure you remain cooperative." Hale crossed her arms, standing a little closer to Artemis's bed.
"I won't be staying." Artemis assured. "Release me back to my family immediately."
Mr O' Neill's mouth twitched. "I'm afraid you don't have the right to demand, that's not exactly how custody works, Fowl." He stepped closer, "We'll answer questions if appropriate. For now, you'll come with us."
Ms. Hale approached Artemis. The boy tried to shuffle away from the stranger but she did not slow down or hesitate. The wall was cool against Artemis's back, his eyes followed Ms. Hale's hands as she unlocked the restraints. She extended a hand to him.
For a moment her arm floated in the space before Artemis slowly took her hand and started to stand up. He wobbled a little, still unsteady on his feet. She steadied him as they walked out of the room. The boy was met with a commodious hallway with uniformed men hurriedly walking past. Young men not much older than Artemis were standing outside the doors and chatting away. Ms. Hale held onto Artemis's restraining cuff as she spoke, the pull of it snapped Artemis's attention back to his chaperones.
"We ask of you to please co-operate with us for the time being. We wouldn't want to have to try force you into your work." She snipped. Authoritative silence for the rest of the stroll.
Another room came into view. It was reminiscent of a plain doctor's office with sterile equipment and a masked person sitting on a swivel chair. The doctor turned to face the new arrival.
"Hello! You mus' be Artemis," The examiner was quite happy-go-lucky with a slight Southern Dublin accent, he checked the file open on his computer. "Artemis Fowl the Second, you 'ave quite the extensive list of...adventures if that's what I can call it. At first I thought we would be dealing with your father but nope, we got you instead, what a surprise you were." He laughed.
"Yes, I'm here," The boy of the hour muttered, his accent slightly slipping.
After the recording of Artemis's fingerprints and DNA he was brought back to his room. The monitor and Personal Computer were booted up and a man in all black with a shrouded face stood behind the office style chair. The man gestured for Artemis to sit in it.
"On the monitor is a skills verification. Before any negotiations begin of course." Artemis's handler reported.
"Hold that thought," Artemis replied sharply, "I will not proceed without understanding my circumstances."
The handler pulled out a chair beneath him and sat down to just above Artemis's eye level.
"We're being quite generous Fowl. Many in your position receive far less courtesy. But honestly like most people I give younger lads much more leniency if it means rule breaking puts you 6 feet under. I'll tell you. But first, this." He handed Artemis a small booklet. "A contract stating a few important points."
Mr. O' Neill leaned forward and stuck his index finger up. "Firstly, any information that we do not authorize to be shared will not under any circumstance be shared. Secondly, the breaching of this contract will allow all the information we have of the Fowl's family to be released to the public and any punishment we see fit will be enacted upon you. Lastly, we are allowed to use any non lethal force to get you to co-operate. More information on paper of course."
"That contract doesn't exactly sound to be in my favor, Sir. In what world would I happily sign this?"
"Well in this world you can unhappily sign it. Should I remind you, Fowl, that you are under our custody and turf? You hold no power over me. You can stay here for the rest of your life being beaten for all I care," He sneered but then paused for dramatic effect, "but we can avoid that with your alliance."
Artemis read the contract in silence. The only sound in the room was the occasional flipping of the pages. He slipped the contract into the drawer of his desk. "I agree".
"Good, now, the reason you're here and what we want you to do,"
"I'm listening," Artemis remarked almost dismissively.
"Our little slice of bureaucratic paradise." O' Neill smiled slightly at his own joke. "We go by LIATH, Legislative use of Intelligence And Tactical Handling. We do exactly as our name suggests, in this case we're using our intel to protect the people."
"But most of us here call it Section Gray." Ms. Hale chimed in.
"You drugged and kidnapped me," Artemis criticized, "That doesn't exactly fit the usual standard of protection of the people does it now, Sir?"
O' Neill smirked ever so slightly. "We also like getting things done, legislative is in the name. You understand right? A Fowl yourself. We can't always wait for official action. You wouldn't understand the amount of waiting you do in the government office, you can't do anything quickly. That may just be how it is but we're tired of waiting."
Artemis's face muscles instinctively twitched. Ex-government? "Now, how exactly do you know what it's like in office?
O' Neill ignored him. "Our intentions with you however, I think we'd prefer a visual aid as well," He remote-controlled for the lights off. Allowing the monitor screen to be the main focus of the room. It changed to show a snapshot of a paperback folder.
"These are but a snippet of what we've found in the British Minister of Defense Files" Ms. Hale informed almost excitedly, her body language surely didn't reflect that tone in any way whatsoever.
It was a showcase of the map of Ireland. The slides changing their focuses from coastlines, borders, sea lanes and buildings. Satellite, quadripoint, a wide variety of information with written notes expressed an obsession for these locations. They overlaid mission plans with the streets of Northern Ireland. Artemis didn't even want to believe it.
"What are you trying to show here? It can't be, that's preposterous to even attempt,"
"We know, that's why we need you to dig it up for us,"
There was a pause. The humming of the screen and the intrigued looks towards Artemis. The slide froze on a stretch of the Northern Irish border. Thin white lines marked rural roads and red dots represented settlements clustered together like holly berries. His eyes flickered to the top of the slide, he read the name.
"I can't believe it."
Ms. Hale's lip curled, waiting for Artemis's words.
"Operational and strategic mapping, isn't it?" Artemis asked, but he already knew the answer.
Her eye brow casually twitched in delightful surprise "You recognize the structure."
"Of course I do. It's the exact same framework used for rapid deployment planning."
"Good, then we won't waste time pretending." O' Neill stepped forward and inserted an attachment.
The slide format changed, it was LIATH's files. Time stamps of the guarding officers, movement simulations both military and civilian, checkpoint formation timelines filled each screen.
Artemis's chest tightened. "You're preparing to seal the border,"
"Stabilize it." O' Neill corrected
"In under three months," Artemis said softly, his eyes scanning and his jaw relaxed, "Your own models show operational lockdown within 95 days."
"You're quicker than we expected,"
"You're not reacting to a threat, you're positioning for one," Artemis divulged.
Hale broke through the gap in a composed voice, as though cutting the air with wings.
"Intel suggests an incident is coming. Something large enough to force societal response,"
"Suggests," Artemis looked towards his handlers, "Or predicts?" A slight smirk, he was almost forgetting the whole how and why he was here.
The screen changed to an encrypted correspondence. Many words redacted out of data gaps. Key words were highlighted in red.
"Escalation Trigger" "public justification window" "emergency authority at the ready"
Artemis slowly leaned back into the chair, his attention returning to the screen.
"These are not plans for stopping violence. You're going to use it to your own advantage."
"We will be controlling it, yes, but also containing it,"
"By militarizing civilian borders."
"By preventing chaos getting out of hand." O' Neill countered.
Artemis let out a breath. "This ends in soldiers on streets," his voice low, "And once that happens, history doesn't rewind, it repeats. Don't you understand that?"
Hale stepped closer to the screen, indifferent to Artemis's arguments.
"The files regarding the security and planning of the Northern border are locked behind a Ministry vault. The nasty thing adapts with every intrusion. We've thrown entire cyber divisions at it and yet this is all we got. It rewrites the entire script in real time before we even get a sentence down." She removed the hard-drive from the PC and turned to him. "But you," She slipped the hardware into her shirt pocket, "You don't fight systems, you understand their logic."
"You want me to break into a living encryption network?" Artemis let out a breathy chuckle, "I'm sorry but I don't get it,"
"It seems like you do already Fowl." O' Neill chided, "We need you to extract confirmation. Planning authorizations, trigger thresholds, anything else important we want you to find. The real timeline of events."
"Confirmation of what exactly?"
"That the Ministry has already authorized militarized border control not only in Northern Ireland but across the country. To the point at which civilian policing is overridden."
"You're looking for proof that the decision was already made? Nothing on how to stop future colonization?"
"By getting precise confirmation we do stop future colonization."
"And once you have it?"
"We leak it."
Artemis shook his head slowly. "You would force a political firestorm!" he scoffed, "You humiliate the ministry, shattering the already fragile relations and putting the lives of the Irish at risk. You risk turning our border tension to outright conflict. Frankly, you are spitting on the graves of all the people that died for an independent Ireland through state."
"But we will also stop further occupation before it even begins. We have already given up the 6 counties in Ulster and Muirrean be damned we will not give up our seas and ports to Britain."
"You light a match in a room full of gas and hope people run away instead of exploding,"
"Either way sends a message, boy."
"There has to be another way, this can't be the only plan of action."
"Well there isn't!" O' Neill slammed his fist onto the table, the various apparatus jumping and quivering. As Artemis was too when the man cornered him in the office chair against the guarding figure behind it.
"People are going to get hurt Fowl. The difference is whether it helps us or doesn't."
Artemis met his eyes. "Violence is never controlled, only redirected. Reflected." Artemis stated. "I can't do this, I can't accept this. I have much more blood on my hands than you think, Officer O' Neill. I've seen what my work has done to families. To countries. This does not benefit the Fowls, therefore, it is futile."
If he couldn't get out of this with force or running away, then, his cards don't have to change but the dealers' cards do.
"Of course, of course, we suspected that you would resist. It is only natural."
Hale steeped forward, holding yet another file in her grasp. Letting the manilla envelope be opened slowly and the contents to be spread across the desk. Inside were multiple records of financial audits, hospital transport schedules, private security routines, his family in ignorant bliss, all stalked and/or stolen.
"Your mother's treatment depends on interrupted funding, Mr. Fowl," she said softly, turning another page. "Your businesses' legitimacy relies on silence regarding your history." She turned even more pages filled with documents and photographs. "Your father's legal protections are remarkably...fragile"
Artemis's hands tightened, his scowl deepening.
"We don't wish to ruin your family," Hale quipped, "But refusal places them in unavoidable proximity to scrutiny, don't you say?"
O'Neill leaned in close. "You won't go to prison, Fowl, but they might." A pause. "You work, and they remain untouched. You refuse..."
He let the sentence die. The threat hanging heavier then shouting and beating ever could. Artemis swallowed, taking a breath to try steady himself. Staring at the exposed cracks in his private life that once held no importance to him, but now, are the strings puppeteering him. He should have never let his heart come so close to his family.
"You'll retrieve the authorization files," Hale elaborated, "The activation thresholds. The internal confirmations."
"And when you do, you'll prevent a border from becoming a one-sided battle field."
Artemis didn't answer immediately. He stared at the map of the Northern Irish border. At the thin line that has taken generations of blood and spilt it on the streets. Their planning, they weren't reckless. They were scared.
Fear made organizations sloppy. It makes them rush to finish the job and it just made LIATH show their hand. The family files were almost too complete, they were staking Artemis out for longer than they had implied. They've done this before, their guard is down. They'll expect little resistance from the boy but these people clearly never dealt with the Fowls before.
"Alright," Artemis exhaled.
O' Neill straightened at once. "You'll do it?"
"I'll retrieve your confirmations," Artemis replied evenly. "The authorizations. The thresholds. Just please, leave my family out of this."
Hale smiled, small and satisfied, "Of course."
"Wise choice." O' Neill proclaimed.
But Artemis isn't so easily threatened. He was already dismantling the situation around him step by step. They definitely didn't have the technical knowledge to this themselves, so they couldn't ever afford to kill him at least. LIATH didn't try warm up to Artemis, didn't attempt weaving him in a web but instead showed their leverage over him almost immediately. Pressure means proximity, something else is coming and LIATH is racing it.
He had to find out. He must catalogue what files they showed special interest in, what threats they used first, which names were of significance, which port was circled twice on a map. Patterns. Patterns stacking neatly in his mind.
"You'll have full terminal access," Hale informed, "monitored, of course."
"Of course." Artemis echoed. Monitoring goes both ways.
O' Neill gestured to the waiting computer. "When can you begin?"
Artemis placed both hands on the desk, smoothing over the hard material with his fingertips. Steady and calm. "Soon, I wish to ready my thoughts for this. It's not going to be easy."
"Very well. We will check up on you regularly so get going." O' Neill clipped. He walked out the room, opening the door and letting Ms. Hale out first, then the technician (whom Artemis almost forgot about). The officer's eyes being the last thing to imprint the room before it locked shut behind him.
The Fowls have been cornered before. Every time, the trap had become their weapon. Artemis's eyes reflected the soft glow of the screen as it powered up from it stagnant rest. It seemed as though LIATH hasn't realized they allowed one of the most notorious criminal heirs to ever live into the heart of their operation.
God bless those fools.