A/N: So this is just a little thing I thought up. It will be relatively short, just a few chapters. I took half a pound of Greek mythology, two cups of Artemis Fowl, and just a dash of modern twists. Oh an of course a teaspoon of lame analogies as seen above. And as you know, I don't own Artemis Fowl. I only own this story. And I hope you enjoy it. Oh and, thanks to my awesome beta Nikki! She owns my elbows and such.

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The Taming of Cerberus

Part One; Charon

Artemis Fowl had died. On purpose of course. As the late Commander Julius Root had once said, "The great Artemis Fowl doesn't do anything by accident." There were few truer statements ever spoken. And Artemis, being great and all, planned an elaborate demise that screamed with eccentricities. He never carried out those plans though. They were simply too messy. And there was always the potential of sparking an international incident. As such, Artemis opted for a quick swallow of three too many painkillers; extra strength. Slowly, and obviously without pain, life ebbed away from Fowl Junior. Darkness clouded his vision and one last sharp intake of breath was heard by his ears alone. It was the end. Apparently.

After what seemed like brief moments, Artemis' eyes flew open; not that there was much difference between the colour of the back of his eyelids and the room in which he now stood. The young man, barely twenty-five, could not even see the ground on which he trod. The only light was a faint one, emitted from the crack beneath a door only a few steps away. Artemis, ever the intellectual, weighed his options. He could run towards the door and explore what lay on the other side, even though he had no idea where he was and that it could be potentially dangerous. His other option was to stand still and wait for someone to come find him, even though he had no idea how long that would take and that it could be potentially dangerous. Artemis was certainly not liking his options. But the longer he stood there, the gloomier he felt and the more he wanted to crawl up into a ball and die.

Wait, something echoed inside his head, a far off voice, sounding much like his own, You're already dead. The painkillers, genius. Remember?

And Artemis remembered. Dead. That was very interesting. Perhaps he was in heaven, although he highly doubted heaven would be so depressing. Hell? No, certainly not. He had repented, seen the error of his criminal ways. Artemis Fowl did not belong in hell. He would challenge the devil himself on that matter. But if not heaven, and if not hell, then where? Perhaps the other side of the door held answers. It was worth a shot. Artemis approached the door and gripped the doorknob tight, noticing his hand was paler than usual. Unsurely, Artemis slid the door open. And what he saw almost made him laugh. Almost.

He now stood in a moderately lit room, full of people. Or what he had supposed were once people. Each humanoid, as he quickly nicknamed them, was nearly transparent, glowing a pearly grey colour. Artemis glanced down at his arms, legs, and torso, realizing that he too was the odd colour and just about as far from opaque as possible. He looked around the room and saw only one who did not resemble any of the other beings, standing behind a solid cherry wood podium. He was a solid form, although frail, with salt and pepper hair. He would have seemed like a harmless old man, had the billowing black robe he wore not ruined the entire illusion. Artemis studied him from across the room, making note of the double-edged hammer that rested on a chair beside him.

"Charon," he whispered to himself, "This is bloody impossible." Artemis' hands instantly lunged into his pockets, feeling around for something he knew had to be there. His fingers wrapped around a round, cold object. Oh yes, of course it was there. Artemis smirked, and in death his trademark smirk seemed more terrible, more ghastly. If he would have known such a thing his sole thoughts would have been 'All the better.'

Artemis pushed his way through the crowd of spectres towards the robed man. He noticed that some of the spirits were faded more than others, as if they had been there longer. Artemis brushed past a woman whose long, colourless dress was tattered and ruined. She had been wearing it for centuries, judging by the medieval look to it. Artemis almost felt pity for all these spirits he pushed aside. They were all waiting, trying to get to the same place he was. But he had to get there sooner. Artemis Fowl had not died simply because. No, he died because he had a mission in death.

As Artemis approached the podium, the little old man looked up at him, a frown evident on his face, stretching all the way to his cold grey eyes. Artemis was amazed. Despite how old this man looked, his face did not hold a single wrinkle. His cheekbones were strong, as was his jaw.

"Ah, fresh meat," the old man's voice, which was surprisingly steady, knocked Artemis out of his stupor. The younger of the men said nothing, his fingers still fishing in his pocket. This time, rather nervously.

"Charon," Artemis finally spoke, his voice never betraying his sweaty palms, "I wish to be transported now."

"You and everyone else," Charon laughed roughly, "Get to the back of the line. I've got people who've been waiting here since the Bubonic Plague."

"I respect that Sir," Artemis continued, "But I have a rather important something to attend to down there."

"A rather important something?" Charon echoed in what could be described as a mocking tone, "Look kid, you wait for a ride on Styx, just like everyone else."

"I had a feeling you'd say something like that," Artemis smirked. For a moment, at the sight of the close to heartless smirk, Charon seemed to shudder. Fear ran behind his deep eyes. But the moment passed and he glared at Artemis, once more, with contempt. The young man continued smirking, pulling from his pocket what he had been toying with earlier. A solid gold coin, melted and reshaped from what he had stolen from the fairies. Charon's eyes glittered with greed. He reached for the coin, but Artemis pulled it back.

"Tsk-tsk," Artemis wagged a finger knowingly at Charon, "You don't get a single piece until I've reached the other side of Styx." Artemis placed the gold back in his pocket, the grey eyes narrowing in contempt. Charon, after a moment's indecision, stepped away from the podium.

"Fine," he tugged at the sleeve of Artemis' Armani suit, "Let's get this show on the road."

Artemis began to let Charon lead him to a door opposite the one he had entered from, but stopped, mid-step, looking back at the woman with the tattered gown. Charon huffed impatiently and turned back to see what was holding the impudent little mortal up.

"We're going to take her too," Artemis said. And as if the woman had been listening all along, she strode up to Artemis and his guide, a smile on her otherwise blank face.

"No way," Charon snapped, "The old hag hasn't got any money to pay me with. No money, no transport. End of story."

Artemis rolled his eyes dramatically and placed his hand back in his pocket, allowing the numerous coins to jingle happily. It was odd in such a dreary place. He noticed that Charon was eyeing his pocket hungrily.

"They're all solid gold," Artemis enticed, "And there's more than enough for both of us to ride."

Never had Artemis gotten two such different looks simultaneously. The woman looked ready to throw herself into his arms and bless him with a thousand thanks, while Charon looked as though he would take no small pleasure in ringing the mortal boy's neck. However, gold was tempting; too tempting to let pass. As such, Charon answered begrudgingly.

"Fine, I'll take the woman too. Follow me." Charon led them out the door, muttering something about being a puppet for stupid mortals. Artemis would have chuckled, had he not gasped at the overwhelming sight that met his eyes in the next room.

The trio stood on one side of a riverbank made of solid black rock. It smelled faintly like volcanic ash. Nauseating. The other side of the riverbank was not visible through the darkness, though Artemis could tell it was rather far away. The river, if Styx could even be called such, was enormous. The water was murky and it smelt of must. Small waves ebbed up on the shore, black as night. Artemis knew that the sooner he got across this river the better. Charon had already stalked over to the shore and was waiting for his passengers to follow. Artemis took a step forward, glancing at the woman behind him. She looked scared. Although scared hardly did the expression on her face justice. Artemis managed a smile, that even in death, seemed to warm her still heart. She followed her proverbial saviour to the shores where Charon was waiting.

"Finally," he muttered, shooting the two a dirty look. It was obvious he hated his job; for an obvious reason. Artemis stared out into the water. And that was a problem. He saw nothing other than water.

"How are we getting across?" he asked.

"Swimming," Charon sneered sarcastically, "You mortals and your stupid questions." Charon rubbed his hands together and raised them above his head, muttering in a language Artemis could not understand. He caught snippets of Greek, but most of the words seemed to belong to a language long since buried. As Charon spoke, or rather hissed, a long black boat rose up from the depths of the river Styx. The front of the boat housed a curved decoration that Artemis recognized as a human spine.

Lovely, he thought, Utterly charming.

"What are you waiting for?" Charon asked, side-stepping into the boat, "I don't have all eternity." Artemis helped his female companion onto the boat and, after she was safely on board, he gazed wistfully at the direction from which he came. The young man wished he could have brought all the waiting souls, but he did not have nearly enough gold to convince Charon to do such a thing. And besides that, he would need some for the return journey. Because Artemis Fowl did not plan on staying dead forever.

As soon as Artemis had both feet in the boat, Charon snapped his fingers and an oar appeared in his thin hands. He began to row through Styx, named for hate, a dreadful smile plastered on his face.

"Next stop, Hades," he crowed. Then he turned to face Artemis. "You should have waited the thousand years kid. Once you're down here, there's no coming back. And I doubt your manicured hands are going to like it one bit."

"I doubt that as well," Artemis nodded, almost smugly, "But I also doubt that there's no way back."

Charon let out a mirthful laugh, as though he were going to enjoy the eternal torment that he led Artemis to. Little did he know that Artemis had no intention on spending eternity in The Fields of Asphodel.

The boat inched forward for what seemed like hours until finally the water seemed to become less shallow and Artemis heard a faint growling somewhere in the distance. Charon chuckled again.

"Sounds like old Cerberus is hungry. I'd watch my back if I were you."

"Thank you for that wondrous advice," Artemis muttered as the bottom of the boat collided with the shoreline of the lower part of the Underworld.

"Yeah, yeah," Charon said, pushing the pair out of his boat, "Get a move on. And give me my gold. Two coins each."

"Stingy," Artemis commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Two gold coins," Charon growled. It almost seemed to rival the vocal sounds of the distant Cerberus. Artemis pulled four golden coins from his pocket and tossed them to Charon.

"Thank you for the ride," Artemis nodded to their guide. Charon grunted in response, staring directly into Artemis' eyes.

"I have one question though," Artemis spoke up, breaking the intense silence that had fallen.

"And I've got no answers," Charon retorted, "But I've got some friendly advice."

"And that is?"

"Watch out for Eurydice. She's a bit…out there."

With that strange advice, the boat sunk back into Styx, Charon and all. Artemis watched with interest until the tip of the spinal chord disappeared under black waves. When the boat was gone, Artemis turned to his female companion. She was looking at him strangely.

"Thank you," she spoke her first words since Artemis had met her. The woman's voice sounded distant, as if she hadn't spoken in decades.

"It was the least I could do," he replied, "So where do we go from here? I have absolutely no idea what I'm even doing here."

"I go this way," she said, still looking at Artemis as though he were about to explode and leave her covered in spectre juice. Her hand stretched out and pointed to gates a few feet off, where many souls waited. Artemis reasoned that that was the place of judgement.

"Very well, let's go." Artemis took a step towards the gates, but the girl shook her head.

"You go that way," she pointed in the opposite direction, where a tiny cabin stood near the bank of the river.

"But…what is it?" Artemis asked, "Who lives there? Why do I go there?"

"You're a brave man," she spoke sadly now, "Charon knew such. May luck be with you." She crept down the path that led to the gates. Artemis stared after her for a few moments until he regained his senses. Maybe Charon knew what he planned to do. Maybe this cottage would be helpful with his plan. He hoped so.

At a brisk pace, at least as brisk as dead allowed, Artemis set out towards the cabin, remembering Charon's words.

"Watch out for Eurydice. She's a bit…out there."

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A/N: Well, what did you think? Reviews are welcome, as is constructive criticism. Everything helps. So please, review. And stay tuned for the next part. Cheers!

-Liv.