Discontinued - A Fowl Rider Experience

Chapter One

Before you delve into this fanfiction, there are just a few housekeeping that ought to be discussed. Right, let's get down to business.

Firstly, the two fandoms are Alex Rider (written by Anthony Horowitz) and Artemis Fowl (written by Eoin Colfer). Even though I am not heavily focusing on each individual book that has been made, moreso doing a story that's set when they're in their twenties, you've still got to have prior knowledge of the first eleven books of Alex Rider (no Alex Rider: Nightshade as I have yet to read it) and the eight books of Artemis Fowl (disregard the Fowl Twins. I have completely yeeted that book to Mars for the time being, having to refuse so of the things that canonically occurred).

To make it much easier, Artemis Fowl: the first book, the second book, definitely the third book and lastly, the eighth book. Those ones will be spoiled in this fiction, alongside Alex Rider: the first one, the third one, the fourth one (this is a big one), the fifth one (also a big one), the eight one, the ninth one and eleventh one.

Having said that, I don't own these two series, their characters, their plots etc. etc. I don't own the places, countries etc. that are referenced throughout.

Don't post this anywhere or even use anything without asking me and receiving my approval. This will be crossposted on Fanfiction.net and Archive of our own, under AryaDumbledore as well. This site is my main source, where I mostly post Percy Jackson one-shots, if you want to check them out.

Lastly, I'm aiming to update this once a month, or whenever I have an update ready. If y'all poke me enough in the comments, I'll definitely remember to not abandon this, especially when the crossover fandom is small.

Let's begin with the story, if you're all still here.

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Chapter One

Hold up, pause

There's no need to be alarmed

I don't mean to cause no harm

Pause – Tony K

The streets were much too busy for the young man’s liking as he attempted to cross the road for the fourth time in the past fifteen minutes. He looked down at his watch, wincing at the time, before checking the traffic once more. Finding an opening, the man zipped across the road, just missing a silver car that sped right past him, blowing a gale of dust at the pedestrian. The young man had no time to be angry. He just simply dusted himself off before continuing to his destination.
      
The silver-plated watch on his left hand displayed the time of noon, an hour past the assigned meeting time. The young man’s contact was going to be very displeased to see him walk in the restaurant covered in dust, sweat and entirely out of breath. That was a risk he was willing to take. After all, the meeting was scheduled late last night, much to the man’s distaste considering he liked to be asleep at the current time. Alas, the calling had sounded important, and something about an ex-employer was bought into the mix. Out of curiosity, the young man had the urge to know more, so he simply accepted the request.
      
Soon, he found himself standing outside of a busy, high-end London restaurant. The Restaurant, Gordon Ramsey was a lavish, brick building with two concrete pillars at the front of the entrance that were decorated with twisted roots, which intertwined amongst one another, forming a delicate and natural roof that provided shade. Above this and in a loopy, golden cursive script, Gordon Ramsey shone in the sunlight, popping out to the people. It should have been considered illegal, coming under a potential driving hazard, but no one was going attempt the prosecution of a top Michelin-starred restaurant. To the left of the columns, under two large, black-framed windows, sat a garden bed full of luscious greenery, sprinkled with specks of coloured flowers.  The glassed, double doors slid open to reveal an elegant space, filled with white, round tables and plush, light beige chairs. Simple chandeliers hung above the tables, casting a light shield around each seating area. The young man didn’t like the idea of the dim lighting in restaurants. It felt impractical and unnecessary.
      
Heading to the counter, he glanced around the room, eyes eventually coming to a stop on a young lady wearing the waitress uniform: a crisp white business shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. Make-up was to a minimal, the dress requirement just required for a simple foundation, lip-gloss and mascara; however, it wasn’t needed due to her acne-free face. The lady had dark brown eyes that overbrimmed with worry and her hair, identical to eye colour, was shoved into a tight and neat low bun. A few pieces of fringe framed her face, making her look much younger than she possibly was. The waitress was focussing to her left, where two kids with their parents were idly talking, dressed all in suits and using proper mannerisms. They were the typical average family of two females and two males. The young man stepped forward and cleared his throat. The waitress snapped to attention, turning around to face the customer, a tight smile on her face. Her hands fumbled with the keyboard and mouse before addressing the stranger. It was apparent that this waitress didn’t approve of the man.
      
Alex Rider didn’t belong at this restaurant. Everyone could see it. His dark blonde hair was a thick mess on his head, and his dark brown eyes were laced with maturity. He was about 6ft with a tanned, masculine body. Underneath his slightly dusty, grey woollen blazer and black dress pants, one could even see, not only the muscles but also the many scars that littered his body. Alex was no ordinary person, especially when one considered his past. He was continually glancing at the exits, and even now, the waitress in front of him edged him to uncertainty. Alex wanted to turn his back on this restaurant and head back home. He never did. Whatever his contact wanted; it was necessary.
      
“How may I help you?” the waitress asked, hastefully yet irritated, as she tried to make up for the lost time.
     
Alex perched his arm on the counter. “I’m here for an eleven o’clock reserve,” he admitted. “Should be under the name Fowl.”
      
She looked amused, as her fingers danced across the keyboard. After a few seconds, she looked back up, then glanced towards the back of the restaurant.
      
“You have kept him waiting,” she said. “Follow me.”
      
The brunette stepped out from behind the counter, placed a menu in Alex’s hands, then proceeded to usher him up a few steps that lead to the furthest part of the restaurant. In the far-left corner, two figures occupied a four-seated round table, covered in a white and grey tablecloth and layered with clean dishes and cutlery. A water pitcher sat in the middle alongside a stack of glass cups. The waitress stopped at the top of the stairs and gave the man in front of her a once-over, almost as if she was searching him for anything suspicious. Shaking her head, she hurried back to the counter, leaving the Rider man alone.
      
Again, something felt off-putting, but Alex couldn’t place his finger on it as he headed towards the two figures. The figures made an interesting pair, one bulky-shaped and tall, the other scrawny and short. They both wore black suits over a crisp white shirt alongside a black tie. Alex stood there, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
      
To tell the truth, seeing the over-muscular, tall man frightened him. It reminded him of his younger self’s past, as he escaped from life-threatening situations that usually entailed him being pitted against men of much bigger body masses. The one that sat in front of him, could easily get up and knock Alex around before killing him on the spot, and Alex, who hadn’t been keeping himself trained, wouldn’t even be able to defend himself. Lucky for him, this tall giant seemed to only listen to the smaller one.
      
Figure Two looked to be of the Rider man’s age. He had big, deep blue-black eyes and hair that resembled not only coal but also the darkest of nights. His skin was abnormally pale, almost vampire-like, and his pale, well-moisturised lips were set in a thin line. His Armani suit was tailored to the size of his small, slender body. In front of him sat a glass of water (Alex took note of the lack of ice) and a mobile device that was unrecognisable. Alex assumed that this young one had to be the infamous Artemis Fowl the Second, the fourth generation of the Fowl family and his contact.
      
After standing there for what felt like a few minutes, Alex finally announced his presence with a slight cough in his elbow, and then proceeded with a “hello” when the two figures glanced up at him. He wasn’t anticipating the glare that the bald man gave him, or the amused smirk the blue-eyed young man sent his way.
      
“Mr Rider,” the younger one addressed. “You are certainly late for someone who is supposed to be time-efficient.” He gestured to the seat in front of him. “Let us get down to business.”
      
Alex took a seat. “I’m very sorry, Mr Fowl,” he promptly said. “I had a personal issue to sort.”
     
The Fowl boy grimaced. “Call me Artemis,” he told Alex before asking if he’d like anything to drink. To this, Alex had simply asked for water, something Artemis’s bodyguard got for him.
     
Alex was particularly interested in the big man who had just handed him a glass. He was never sure as to how people with large hands ever functioned doing menial tasks like cleaning the dishes or washing the clothes, let alone operating most types of weaponry.
      
Having realised that he was staring for too long and wanting to escape the current glare he was receiving, Alex quickly turned back to Artemis. His calculating blue eyes were focused on the interaction that just occurred between his bodyguard and the Rider male. His lips curled into a small smile.
      
“Never mind Butler,” Artemis stated, with a unceremonious wave. “He often terrifies my contacts, but it’s mostly to allow for them to be completely obedient and honest.”
      
Alex gulped, afraid to say anything. Who did Artemis Fowl think he was? About four years ago, the Rider male remembered indulging himself with a newspaper, one that had the vital notes on the front in big, thick block letters. He distinctively recalled the featured article addressed a certain someone called Artemis Fowl and how he had died due to unmentioned circumstances. That very Artemis Fowl was the one sitting poised in front of him, almost as if nothing had happened those years ago when the great Techno-crash happened. As the name implied, the Techno-crash meant that all technology had come to an erupt stop, and it drove the world in a pandemic. It did well, though because now humans thought a lot more about the economy and the environment.
      
“Mr Rider,” Artemis began. “Are you faring well?”
      
Alex was taken aback. He was just thinking of how the public viewed the Fowl family as, believe it or not, foul and intellectual criminal masterminds, yet here was one of them who was asking of his wellbeing. If his sources were correct, he could see how the Fowl family had changed from being illegitimate to legitimate.
      
“Sorry,” Alex muttered, avoiding eye contact with the young Fowl. “I was just thinking.”
      
Artemis's brows furrowed as he watched the Rider male take a sip of water. He too had many questions and concerns about the blonde who sat in front of him, but he knew it could wait until after the business proposition. It was after all why he was meeting with Alex Rider, the meritorious, ex-MI6 spy.
      
“If it is alright with you, I would like to begin the discussion of why I called you here,” Artemis stated. “There is an abundance to discuss, yet so little time.” Alex nodded, allowing for the Fowl genius to continue. “I am not quite sure of the knowledge you have with the criminal underworld. Your MI6 file did not state much, so I’d like to start with a brief rundown of the situation before getting down to the what you call the gritty, nitty stuff.” Artemis grabbed his phone off the table and unlocked it. “A few months ago, I received emails from an organisation called SCORPIA: Sabotage, Corruption, Intelligence and Assassination. I believe they were a recent employer to you.” Alex’s face paled, but the Fowl heir continued. “I am uncertain of what is going to occur due to the constant declining of their requests... It has taken quite a toll on me, considering I cannot plan ahead to ensure the safety of the Fowls.”
      
Artemis paused. His usual self-absorbed, cockiness, was replaced with worry. It was noticeable due to the creasing around his eyes me the slight frown of his lips. He looked exhausted; Alex noted. It was something he hadn’t picked up on earlier when he observed Artemis. Whatever was going on with SCORPIA definitely couldn’t be good news. Alex knew that from experience. Artemis was right when he said the terrorist organisation was one of Alex’s employers. It was something he wanted to always forget, but no matter what happened, he just couldn’t escape the past.
      
“I searched database after database to see what SCORPIA has planned for me, but I have not been successful. Collecting files of all their past misdoings is one thing, attempting to figure out what could occur to your loved ones is an entirely different circumstance.” Artemis let out a sigh. “On a rare occasion even I, Artemis Fowl the Second has to admit when something is impossible to achieve. This is one of them.”
      
Alex waited a few moments before adding himself into the conversation. “Why am I here exactly?” he asked. “Surely if you dug a little deeper, you’d find what you need.”
      
Artemis arched a thin, correctly set black eyebrow. “Pardon?”
      
“From what I’ve read, you’re super smart and somehow even managed to escape death,” Alex said. “Surely you can pull another trick out of your mind and execute it.”
      
Butler shifted in his seat, one of his hands lowered to his waist. Before he could do anything, Artemis placed a small, manicured hand on his arm, and murmured a few words to his bodyguard. Finally, he turned back to Alex, focusing his blue orbs onto Alex’s serious ones.
      
“You even managed to hack MI6,” Alex continued. “If you can do that, then I know for a fact that whatever I have to offer will be useless.”
      
Artemis placed his arms over his chest. “I am certain that what you have to offer is exactly what I require,” he counter-argued. “I need someone who has experience in the field. As I mentioned earlier, had you been paying proper attention, files are one thing, but they’re not all of it.”
      
Alex picked up on what the Fowl man was saying. It was something he was not happy with at all. On his eighteenth birthday, he had sworn off all spy activities. No MI6, no CIA, and definitely no small, private jobs. He wanted to be normal for the rest of his life. The last thing he needed was some cocky, arrogant, rich boy ruining his retirement from spying. Yet a more significant part of Alex sympathised for the boy. Alex had no family left. His father and mother were killed by his traitorous godfather (also dead). His uncle was killed by ex-assassin, Yassen Gregorovich who turned out to be an association of Alex’s father. He died to protect Alex. Finally, his housekeeper and the closet person to a mother, Jack Starbright, moved back to America after her parents passed away. The others, the Pleasure family, had taken such good care of him throughout the years, but he moved from America and back to London to keep them safe.
      
Alex looked back at Artemis, a sigh escaping through his lips. “You want me to infiltrate SCORPIA, even though I’m their public enemy number one?” he questioned. “How in the world do we achieve that?”
      
Artemis chuckled. “Thankfully most of SCORPIA disbanded back when you caused havoc,” he began. “This makes infiltration much easier due to a numerous amount of things. For starter, their current files are cluttered and very disorganised. The one they have of you is actually missing an abundance of information. I believe that they were at war with each other, thus resulting in sabotage. What you did was incredibly brave, and I admire you for that.” Alex was rewarded with one of Artemis’s signature half smirks. “SCORPIA is currently too desperate for more employees that there is a possible chance that they won’t run background checks.”
      
“Do I have time to think this through?” Alex asked. “I was kind of in retirement before you dragged me out here to this fancy as place.”
      
Artemis leaned back in his chair. “Of course, you have time to think it through, just do not take forever,” he stated, slipping his phone into a pocket in his suit. “While you are here, order yourself something nice. All expenses are covered by me.”
      
Alex’s brows furrowed. His chest tightened. The hair on the back of his neck tingled. Something didn’t seem right. The blonde was sure of it. His brown eyes glanced around the restaurant, surveying each individual table.

Everything seemed normal. The waitress was still positioned at the counter, flicking through a fashion magazine. The family of four that he saw earlier were eating their food, main course Alex had presumed based on what the plates contained.

The ex-spy noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that the Fowl heir had pulled his phone out once again. His pale, slender fingers danced across the on-screen keyboard. A frown etched itself on Artemis’s face and around his eyes crinkled once again.

His bodyguard, Butler, was mimicking Alex’s actions, only one of his hands were on his waist. Alex knew he was holding his gun, ready to use it if necessary. If only Alex had bought his own. He would have felt much safer. Alas he didn’t. The blonde wasn’t as prepared as the younger version of himself. It was this reason that had him in a gut-wrenching, sweaty ball of nervousness.
      
“Something’s not right,” Alex murmured to the Fowl-Butler pair.