Hellar There!

I'm back with another one :) As usual when I start posting I've read and edited the chapters about 9 times each. This means whatever I put in that I thought was good to begin with has started to sound odd so I'm wondering whether it is. Good or Odd that is. Like saying 'wardrobe' until the word loses it's meaning entirely. Go on. Try it.

Anyway, enough of the blethering on.

Like I've said before, if you're going to read on, expect some Badass Butler-ness, general battering, some swearing, violence etc and the view of the side of the Butlers when they're not stuck 'Sir and M'am' ing the Fowls.

Here we go again - onwards!

CHAPTER 1 - Dinner and a Show

He gritted his teeth against the pain, steering his young charge to the Bentley with his good arm.

Contrary to popular believe, Butlers actually could feel discomfort of all forms. They just have pain thresholds higher than your average skyscraper.

The crowd were practically stampeding, screaming and shouting, ducking at any noise louder than themselves. Butler shoved quite a few of them away - some a little too roughly, but he didn't have time to care about anyone other than his charges.

Whoever had taken the shot knew what they were doing. They had shot from a position that should have made the bullet nigh-on impossible to stop without causing the bodyguard a fatal injury, but he was not the youngest graduate from Madame Ko's Academy for nothing.

As it was, he had seen the glint of metal in the overhead balcony before the shot was fired and stepped into the bullet's path without a second of hesitation, pushing Artemis to one side before attempting to avoid the bullet himself. Luckily for young Master Artemis, for even a moment's contemplation could have meant the end for him.

Still, Butler berated himself. Should have spotted it quicker, then maybe you could've taken it in the vest.

The angle of the shot and the way he was standing before it meant that although he span out of the way, the bullet had still rather more than grazed his gun arm. Annoyingly, this then meant he couldn't return fire as quickly as he had wanted. By the time he had drawn his weapon the shadowy figure in the upper balcony of the theatre was gone.

He kept his Sig Sauer trained on the shadowy movements, but likely the sniper had escaped through one of the many un-blueprinted corridors he and his uncle themselves had clocked and used during their stakeout trips to the theatre.

The crowd poured out through the fire-exit like beads from a bottle and Butler planted himself firmly behind the little family, like a rock jutting from a river, keeping them in a small eddy of calm.

Butler kept an eye on the windows of the various dressing rooms in case the gunman would take advantage of the crowd and try to get in another shot, but only surprised, half make-upped faces appeared at the glass. Alarms wailed piercingly and the sprinklers showered anyone unfortunate enough to be stood under them within in a 2 meter radius. But the one at the door was broken and the group stepped out into the night still dry.

Butler turned his attention to anyone he deemed suspicious in the crowd, trying not to show any discomfort as he ushered Artemis Junior and his mother into the back of the car, closing the door behind them quickly.

Giving one last glance to try to catch sight of a vehicle that the sniper might have used to escape, he climbed into his own seat, only then allowing himself to consider his injury. There was a tapping on the glass between them and the Fowls and The Major buzzed the divider down, simultaneously pulling out of the carpark into the steady queue of traffic that was the main street.

"Was that an attack aimed at us?" questioned Mr. Fowl angrily. "How outrageously barbaric! I expect Carker would be behind it?"

The last sentence was both an out-loud pondering and a question aimed at his manservant.

"I suspect so, sir," The Major answered grimly as he buckled his seatbelt over his broad chest. There was something, Butler noted. The Major, despite being safety conscious to a possibly excessive scale, rarely buckled his seatbelt. The second or so it took to undo could be fatal if he needed to get out quickly. If he had clipped in, that usually meant he was prepared to engage in what was taught as 'evasive driving' at the Academy and usually involved the near-destruction of several low-grade vehicles by the students.

Carker was among the last three or so businessmen Artemis Senior had forcibly, temporarily retired. Why? He had been on the list. The list of competition that needed to be removed. And why not when he had the power to do so? Or at least that's what he had said to convince the Butlers to go along with him. Still, neither were particularly happy to comply. But they were Butlers. So they said nothing.

Normally, Artemis would order a program to be made. Something to hack into the bank accounts and disturb the enemies finances enough to put them off for a while. But this time...The Major mentally ran through the plot that had involved himself and his nephew infiltrating the company as new bodyguards for the billionaire. It was never a good thing to announce your invincibility and then have two of your three bodyguards aim their guns at you instead of your enemy. Carker was forced to transfer a large chunk of his capital into Fowl's account, only to then be taken into custody for one of his various past crimes. That had left him with one hell of a grudge to settle, not to mention his only loyal bodyguard coming off worse in a fight he had boasted he could win blindfolded. The Major smirked slightly at that one. Nevertheless, both the Fowl bodyguards had been on edge since Carker's lawyer had overturned the sentence. The man was on the loose, looking for revenge. Some sort of repayment. And there was no guarantee he would take it in regular currency. Pound of flesh, seemed more likely. Now all that seemed as though it could be coming to fruition.

"Well, he's not going to ruin our evening out, is he? No. We'll show him what the Fowls are made of," Artemis Senior was still talking, mostly to himself, seen as though no-one was particularly paying attention.

His wife was trying to sooth his son who was protesting that he did not need mollycoddling. His manservant was sneaking swift glances at his own nephew when he thought no-one was looking. He didn't want to look concerned but needed to make sure the wound was superficial enough for his subordinate to continue guarding the Fowls for the rest of the evening. Through the hand clamped over the rip in his suit, the bullet wound was beginning to bleed quite profusely.

Butler stared dead-ahead, checking the road for hazards.

"Sir," The Major said hesitantly. "Given the circumstances, I'd suggest returning to the Manor, or at least changing our plans somewhat..."

"Which is exactly what Carker would expect," Artemis Senior countered.

The Major would have rolled his eyes if it wouldn't have compromised his vision. Sometimes, no scratch that, most of the time, he wished his charge would just shut up and let him do his job. But, as Madame Ko had taught him, principles rarely listened.

Besides, he had long since given up hoping that Artemis would return to being the old Artemis he knew. The constant quest for fame and fortune had changed his charge, seemingly irreversibly. It had dulled the man's senses, twisted his morals, affected all those close to him. The Major sometimes hoped that Angeline would step up and slap her husband around the face - at least then he could claim that Artemis had ordered him to stay out of their arguments ever since he had separated them forcibly after the first one.

"Timmy, dear," Angeline started tentatively. "The Major is right. Do you not think that Butler requires some medical attention?"

Her husband looked at her in mild confusion until he realised what she was talking about. Likely he hadn't even noticed that the shot had hit.

"Well?" he demanded.

"I assure you he will be fine, sir. However, thank-you for the concern, m'am," The Major said, without consulting said 'he'.

Artemis turned to his wife and they started up a bout of petty squabbling over his interest in the health of his staff, or rather lack of. The Major sighed, but it gave him enough of a distraction to actually ask his nephew how he was feeling.

"If you get blood on the upholstery, you will be the one cleaning it off," he grunted at the younger Butler, who had given up on holding the blood in by hand and was searching the glove box for a first aid kit.

"There's a kit in the boot if you can wait," he added handing him a giant sized handkerchief.

"Yep. Just get us to the restaurant," Butler answered, applying pressure to the rip in his suit. He supposed he was lucky the bullet hadn't actually made proper contact. At least, that is to say, it hadn't actually entered his muscle and stuck in there, so he didn't have to worry about shattered bones or completely torn muscles. For someone like him, it was simply a flesh wound.

Count your blessings, Madam Ko would say. Because there won't be many.

Although just because the lump of metal was currently embedded into the back of a chair in the theatre and not his arm, didn't mean that it hadn't left one hell of a messy trail in its wake.

He folded the piece of material and clamped his hand over it, almost groaning. Not at the pain. He was used to that. Rather instead, at the spattering of red that had found itself onto the cream-leather seat. Typical. He wouldn't just have to clean up that little bit either; his uncle would take any excuse to force him to clean the entire interior of his precious car. But that was a problem for later. Meanwhile, how he was going to find a slot to sort this out whilst still guard Artemis he didn't know.

The Major flicked his eyes over every so often but his nephew was determined to show no weakness. Pulling into the restaurant car-park The Major popped the boot's security lock and undid his seatbelt.

"On the left. Get it quickly. Don't..."

"Make any fuss. I know," Butler muttered, already halfway out the car.

Once inside, they had the elevator to themselves. Not that anyone else would've fitted comfortably, even if they had been stupid enough to risk being in such a cramped vicinity with two edgy Butlers. Little Artemis kept looking at his bodyguard who only twitched his mouth in a reassuring half-smile and kept his hand on the gun in his waistband, just in case anyone tried to attack them when the doors opened. It was well known in the bodyguarding world that elevators were a nightmare. Who knew what was on the other side of those doors before they opened? And how was anyone supposed to check every floor before their charges picked one?

Thankfully, when the doors opened, the only assault they received was the rapid welcoming of the woman greeting people onto the restaurant floor, where they were seated in the private booth table - as requested.

Also thankfully, Artemis Junior decided he was in need of the rest room, which gave his bodyguard the ideal opportunity to patch up his arm with the medical kit he had swiped from the Bentley's boot. Checking the cubicles were all empty before Artemis chose one, he shrugged off his jacket.

Another one ruined, he thought with a sigh, running his thumb over the frayed and bloodied sleeve. And since the Fowls liked him and The Major to look as identical as possible, that would mean shelling out for two new jackets. You wreck, you replace. Unfortunately, The Major never seemed to be the one who got shot, caught in explosions, or ripped a massive hole in the armpit of an expensive dinner jacket fighting off an idiotic attacker. The elder put it down to experience. The younger taunted him that it was because he was slower. Then again, The Major had kept his Artemis alive for over three decades so far and taken many a hit in that time. Butler's charge wasn't even a third of that, yet somehow he seemed to be catching up injury-wise.

Deciding that taking off his shoulder holster to be able to remove his shirt would be too much hassle, he ripped the sleeve off at the top. Besides, the shirt had already been ruined; the sticky spread of blood had made sure of that. He peeled the material away from the skin and used the mirror to get a good look at the wound. It wasn't gaping, but the horizontal chunk of missing flesh wasn't exactly pretty, either. And it'd probably benefit from a few stitches, if he was honest.

No time for that now - even if he could reach such an awkward place to stitch.

He had got rid of some of the split blood with help from a few alcohol wipes when Artemis emerged.

"How serious is your wound?" he asked, washing his hands.

"I think I'll live, young sir," Butler said, pinning an extra patch over the seeping injury and securing it with a torn off piece of his shirt and some duck-tape rather than the surgical kind, hoping the thick, waterproof layer would keep the blood from showing anymore than it already had done on his dark suit jacket. He ripped it off messily with his teeth and sealed it tight. That was going to sting like a bitch when he tore it off later. Now there was something Juliet would find hilarious. Bullets? No problem. Hairy arms given a waxing by duck-tape? Ouchie.

"I hoped the distraction of my visit to the rest room would allow you enough time to cleanse it."

"Plenty of time, thank-you, young master," Butler wasn't that surprised by this revelation. Although his father seemed oblivious to most things, the budding genius never missed a trick and was also a little more likely to take time to see to the welfare of his staff, even if it was probably only to settle his mind no-one could attack him.

Butler quickly wiped down the sink, removing any traces of red - and hopefully most of his DNA - before packing away the kit and remainder of his shirt sleeve into one of his enormous pockets.

"Ready to proceed?" Artemis Junior had been unusually patient during the minute or so that it had taken his bodyguard to do this.

"Of course, sir," Butler said opening the door and checking it was safe before letting his charge lead the way back into the bustling restaurant.

Dinner, The Major decided, was the only good thing about this restaurant. The very bad thing, was the fact that it was on the top floor of a six story building. And the worst? If Carker had known they had been at the theatre, he would likely know they would be at the restaurant. Of course, The Major wasn't so stupid that he hadn't set up five other decoys, but someone might have followed them, or else teams could be set up at any number of the possible restaurants. And even if they hadn't anticipated them escaping the theatre, it wouldn't take such a powerful, not to mention pissed off, man like Carker long to get a team together. Artemis Fowl may have taking a large chunk out of his opponent, but James Carker was far from bankrupt.

The Butlers ate quickly, uneasily scanning the crowds. There was a certain air of frostiness between the two older Fowls that their bodyguards didn't have time to worry about. Artemis worried though. Although worried was a rather dramatic term. Concerned, was a more appropriate description of his emotions. He knew well that his parents often differed in their opinions and now his mother was trying to convince his father to allow Butler to seek medical attention, which he would likely refuse anyway, whilst his father insisted they should carry on their evening undisturbed.

"Would you like another glass of wine, Angeline?" Artemis Senior asked.

"No thank-you," Angeline sniffed. "I would like to return home."

"Why on earth would you want to do that?" Mr. Fowl laughed, emotions loosened by the alcohol. He seemed almost disappointed when no-one joined in. Not even The Major cracked a polite smile. Too preoccupied with the hissing noise he was certain he could hear. He was convinced he could hear the almost none-existent sound once the younger Butler started discreetly cocking his head to either side, trying to find the source.

"Because, Artemis, if it has escaped your addled notice, one of our bodyguards has been shot whilst protecting ourselves from an attack, which is likely to occur again this very evening," she snapped at him.

Uh-oh. Full name terms.

"Angeline, darling, please stop fretting so..."

"Don't Angeline-darling me. I am not an imbecile! I have been in this family long enough to know the risks," she said furiously.

"Well," Mr. Fowl said, taken aback. "It's hardly my fault some mad-man tried to kill us."

Mrs. Fowl laughed without any mirth.

"How can you possibly say that? Of course it's your fault. You and your business deals," she told him, the last two words emphasised with a venom that revealed exactly how she felt about her husband's 'work'.

"Considering what I sacrifice for this family I think you're being incredibly unreasonable!"

People were starting to stare as the Fowls' voices rose. Butler frowned. All this noise wasn't helping him to find the source of the hissing. It was more than just background noise from a faulty speaker. It was similar to a slowly deflating balloon. He sniffed uncertainly. A horribly familiar smell was wafting through the air propelled by giant fans attached to the ceiling.

Oh shit.

His muscles tensed automatically and he flicked his head round rapidly, searching for the leak.

"I think what you sacrifice most is this family!" Angeline's eyes flashed angrily. Little Artemis slumped slightly in his seat - embarrassed, as well as upset at his parent's arguing.

"Well," Mr. Fowl said again, standing up with a jerk and knocking the table. Red wine sloshed over the pristine white tablecloth.

"Well what, Timmy? You should be ashamed of yourself! Putting your family in danger like this!" she turned to her son. "Come on Arty, we're leaving."

Both Butlers knew the drill for any separation. They stayed with their own respective charges and whomever of her family Mrs. Fowl ended up with, was then the responsibility of that bodyguard. If Juliet one day earned her blue- diamond tattoo it would be easier in the future, not that either of the male Butlers were hoping she would pick such a dangerous and demanding career.

Angeline started to leave the table, taking her son by the hand. Butler got to his feet. He could definitely smell something very unwelcome now. He tried to catch his uncle's eye, signing a quick 'G' in British Sign Language and hoping he'd get the message. He did. He'd already realised himself.

"Well I..." Artemis Senior drew himself to his full height, facing his wife's back and calling after her.

"Quiet!"

The single word stunned the man into silence, especially considering who it came from. The Major did not seem at all apologetic as he too got to his feet behind his charge, ready to move.

A waiter walked past, casually flicking a lighter, poised to ignite a novelty sparkler.

"Do you mind?" Artemis Senior asked, shocked. Then he paused, frowning. "Can anyone else smell ga..."

He was suddenly knocked to the floor by his bodyguard, toppling chairs and landing with an 'oof' as he hit the carpet.

Butler crossed the few steps between himself and his own charge in under half a second and expertly knocked both of the remaining Fowls to the ground, the pair of them landing with a gentle flop and gasping the air back into their lungs as he rolled them under a table.

KA-BOOM, is possibly an over-used cartoon explosion noise, although that, accompanied by the following roaring noise, was exactly what happened next.

The gas that had been hissing slowly from the air-vents exploded with contact with the sparkler. The top three feet of the room became a roiling inferno of blistering heat. The windows shattered outwards in the blast, deadly shards tumbling to the carpark below. Anything flammable burst into flames, flickering, blinding hotness taking the place of the electric lighting, which went out with an electrostatic bang.

The gas itself lasted hardly more than a second or so of fuel for the fire before the blaze followed the path it had taken, retreating down the vents.

Explosions echoed through the entire building.

One of the ceiling fans fell in a deadly twirl of blades, landing on a table with a deafening crash. This was swiftly followed by one of the fake-wood beams that had been decoratively placed in order to make the room seem more antique and homely. A difficult task for a top-floor restaurant.

There was utter silence but for the licking of the flames.

And then the screaming started.

Admission to make: Since all of my fic idas tend to mish-mash together until I straighten them out into separate ones there may be some slight overlaps i.e. sentences that appear in my other fics. I think there's one or two in this chappie. I'll try to keep them to the minimum, but only those of you that have read the others and are pretty observant will notice I reckon.

Anyhoo. Other than that, it's a brand new story for you guys. And yes, I must always shoot Butler within the first three chapters, usually in the arms. He's lucky he has any limbs left really. Sorry bub. I only promise not to kill them. Because of course, it is a well known fact that Butlers cannot be killed.

I've also realised that I continually write within the same sort of time-era. Meaning that they must all be incredibly quick healers having one hell of a few years. Nevermind. Let's go with it :)

Don't expect every day updates with this one. I'll try for at the very least once a week in between assignments and other stuff that drags me away from exercising my imagination :)

Wolfy
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