dizzy_land | Application for Artemis Fowl II (Reply)

One wouldn't necessarily think that someone of Artemis's genius would be surprised very often--and it was true that he tried not to show it; bad for his image, and all--but ever since his dealings with the fairy world had begun, surprises had become something of a regular occurrence for him. The most notable surprise, though, had been in relation to his own behavior. Hard though it was to break a near-lifetime's worth of ambition for the acquisition of gold, he had become somewhat... different. Ever since he'd gotten on this latest fad of finding priceless, stolen works of art only to anonymously return them to the public, he'd been feeling not quite himself. There was always the excuse of Captain Holly Short watching his every move, but the desire to do a bit of good was beginning to feel genuine. It was most disturbing. He'd develop a Robin Hood complex before he knew it.

Ah, well, sighed the 14-year-old mentally. That was another thing he'd been doing too much of lately, having pleasant conversations with his mental narrative. At least he hadn't given up on his criminal background entirely.

At the moment, he was standing casually (something he would never do were it not part of the act for this particular job) near a water fountain in the Killarney Royal Hotel, waiting for a signal from Butler. They had been working to track this particular painting for some weeks now, and Artemis felt that they it might finally be within their grasp--or rather, the public's grasp, since the painting, when they did recover it, would not be in their hands for long. The thought almost made him frown.

Though it was necessary to masquerade as a "normal" teenager for the duration of these public exercises, it was Artemis's least favorite part of the experience. His back was beginning to ache from the odd angle he had forced it into, and he suspected his white polo shirt might be getting dingy. At least he had been able to justify his somewhat-acceptable outfit--the polo shirt, neat black slacks, and his usual leather shoes--for this particular location. He'd have preferred to be in a suit, but it was dramatically better than the t-shirt and jeans he sometimes was required to wear.

He was broken out of this train of thought by the sound of water running in the room across the hall. His signal. He lifted himself gratefully off the wall, taking just a moment to prepare himself before he began the next, most difficult part of this mission. He was confident that they would manage, though, just as they'd managed before. This would be no more difficult. He closed his eyes for just a moment, taking a deep breath before stepping forward and--

The hotel was gone. Instead, he found himself standing in an open, paved area. He blinked, most uncharacteristically. He hadn't expected anything like this. Perhaps he'd fallen into some unexpected fairy workings, or--

He paused.

Artemis was not what one would call an expert on popular culture, particularly not that directed at small children, but it would have been impossible not to recognize the creature he saw next. Mickey Mouse, he thought, a rather potent degree of distaste in the thought. He stood in something of a daze through the introductions, but snapped to a bit when he realized he was being asked a question.

-------------

Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"

By this point, Artemis has decided that he's dreaming. This is not a childish act of denial on his part, but rather a calculated scientific conclusion. He's a bit uncertain as to the precise nature of this dream, or when it began, but it's obvious why he's having it--it's this foolish normal streak. Now that his subconscious has had a taste of a somewhat less criminal lifestyle, it's trying to compensate for his lack of a proper childhood by presenting him with classic childhood figures during his dreams. It's a perfectly sound psychological explanation (and Artemis would know, having himself published several articles in the field of psychology in the top scientific journals).

He's not sure he likes this idea his subconscious has had (which is strange, as he usually approves of anything he thinks, conscious or not), but he decides the only reasonable thing to do is play along until he's sufficiently convinced himself that the loss of a "normal" childhood was not a dire one at all.

"Artemis Fowl the second," he replies, a bit dryly.

"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.

That's a rather strange question, Artemis thinks. He trusts his subconscious enough, though, to assume that any questions he asks himself will be of some psychological significance.

"My quest," the word doesn't quite sound right in his mouth, "is to uphold the family name, and to ensure that the family fortune is never again put in jeopardy." There's more he could say, of course, but there's no sense getting into more touchy subjects. The family name has always been, and will always be, his priority.

"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"

"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to
give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"

Artemis laughs quietly, and were the laugh not tinged with a hint of malice, he would be concerned at his sudden levity. "I would inform him--or her--that I'm quite a master of trickery, myself." He pauses, then smirks, just slightly. "I'm not easily fooled."

Mickey looks rather nonplussed at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"

This catches Artemis's attention. The revolution? Could it be that this conversation is not, as he presumed, a simple psychological analysis, but rather a subconscious warning? He considers the possibility, but quickly dismisses it. The fairy world is in no position to reclaim the surface.

"Must I really list all my skills for this particular exercise?" he asks, yawning. "Perhaps a short excerpt will suffice. I have the highest tested IQ in Europe, I wrote an opera now thought to have been composed by Mozart, I've patented nearly 30 inventions, and I've stolen more gold than the average fairy has ever seen. Et cetera."

The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"

Artemis frowns, just slightly. What could this question possibly mean? "Dark chocolate, if I must choose. Only the quality sort, of course, and in moderation. Sweets are terrible for the teeth."

"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"

It occurs to Artemis suddenly that there is a possibility--however slight--that he is conversing not with his subconscious at all, but with an actual creature. He can't fathom why or how, since this bears no marks of fairy magic, but he's rather disinclined to believe that his subconscious would ask a question such as this one. Or giggle.

Still, he's answered all the other questions. There's no sense in upsetting this... thing, if indeed it's real. "I suppose it would depend on your definition of 'cool,'" he replies, drawling just slightly. "Fairies are quite fascinating, but I'll admit I'm rather partial to humans, myself." His voice is tinged with the vaguest hint of sarcasm.

"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"

Artemis has no need to carry anything sharp; that's what Butler's for. He takes a cautious glance around, just to see if perhaps Butler is around. Of course, he isn't. Pursing his lips slightly, Artemis replies simply, "No."

((Artemis is from the Artemis Fowl series by Eoin Colfer, and is taken from shortly after The Opal Deception ~~because Arty with hormones is weird~~.))