Hello out there! At the beginning, massive Disclaimer: neither do I own any characters from Artemis Fowl, nor do I own any of the characters appearing in this story - for they are not mine. I found this story in the german fandom of AF on fanfiktion . de, fell instantly in love with and translated it. The original author is called Sam Chaucer. If you want a link to the original story, I posted this on Archive of Our Own as well, they allow links, other than FFN ...
So no, this is not mine. Nevertheless would I love to hear what you guys think about it so feel free to tell me :)
And now, have fun with this little gem!
The huge silhouette shadowed the entrance almost completely. Not that anybody felt bothered. The majority of the guests preferred their abidance in this etablissement to be kept in the dark anyway.
However, the bodyguard wouldn't have complained about a bit more light. What people here saw as "cosy atmosphere" was just another add to his list of uncertainties. Like a crowded casino, including several adjoining rooms, veiled corners and insecurable rear exits would not be enough.
In less than two seconds, the tall man had overlooked the whole room and all relevant details. Entrances and exits. Lighting. Approximate number of people. Possible agitators. It was easy for him to get an overview, thanks to his height of almost two metres.
On first sight, he didn't see any weaponry, which of course didn't mean that there was none. It would rather surprise him in this kind of etablissement. The "La Olala" was one of the most infamous dives in London. A gambling hell and terminal for drugs, prostitutes, company secrets, weapons. Filled with shady characters of the gangland, snots, drunk by their own riches and their bulky bodyguards.
In a nutshell: dangerous. And still, or maybe just because of this, his principal had insisted to come here.
Domovoi Butler moved further into the room, careful not to lose his charge. He had advised him against a visit, just like every good bodyguard would've done. But it was just the way Madam Ko had told them more than just once: to survive in their business, they had to be prepared for everything, because principals did not tend sticking to rational suggestions.
This was also and especially the case with Claas McHauley. The gaunt, spotty eighteen-year old was currently ploughing his way through the crowd, recklessly bumping into shoulders that doubled his in strength.
Had he been here alone, he would've got a black eye or worse even before entering the casino. As it was, the dark glares of the male guests just brushed him and the women looked straight through him with practised ease.
If he wanted to, Butler had a way easier game to attract female attention. However, when he was at work - like most of the time - the only thing of importance was the protection of the principal. His charism kept most off the various distractions at bay. Only the cheekiest of the ladies dared a second glance on the tall, trained shape, the even face with the full lips and the thick, brown shimmering hair. Butler used to wear it in a tight ponytail - the only bit of vanity he allowed himself.
For Claas McHauley, restraint was not a thing to muse about. Just now he offered a young woman in a glimmering blue dress his hand for a high-five. She turned away and Claas turned the movement into an awkward head-scratching before he put the next female visitor in the crosshairs.
"Not bad, the chicks 'round here, huh?" he hollered upwards at Butler, not bothering about how many of the people aorund them could hear him.
Butler had to bow down to Claas' slim frame to answer. "You should be careful in a place like this, sir. Some of the most dangerous hitmen in the world are women. A pretty dress is a good disguise."
Claas made a dismissive movement with his manicured hand. "That's what you're here for. You a bodyguard, or what? My father pays you to take down every attacker!"
Butler didn't bother to correct him. Discussing with his principal would only distract him, and in a place like this one, he could not let his guard down for even the slightest moment.
Actually it was Artemis Fowl paying him. Butler's family and the Fowls were linked for generations. The various, often not too legal endeavours of the Fowls had made them wealthy but also gathered a lot of enemies. This was what the Butlers were there for. Serving a Fowl as his personal guard, that was Domovoi Butler's life's purpose he had been working on since he was a child.
Just that there was no current Fowl in need of him. Artemis Fowl was guarded by his Uncle, the Major. He was the best in business and, as far as Butler was concerned, the only man that could beat him at arm wrestling.
There was Angeline, Master Fowl's wife. The two of them had married a year ago, and even if the young Madam Fowl did not participate in the illegal business of her husband, she still had a certain risk. She didn't need a personal bodyguard though. Currently, she spent her life mostly inside Fowl Manor, because she was very pregnant.
With Butler's would-be charge.
One week, maximum two, until Butler's fait would be born. Until then, Master Fowl had ordered him to guard the spoiled only son of the sportswear-producer and part-time smuggler Malcolm McHauley. A clever turn, that ensured him the gratitude of an important business partner without costing much. And, as an extra, Butler kept himself in training for the protection of Fowl's own son.
And now here he was.
Always making sure he wouldn't get forced back of his charge, Butler kept an eye on all of the possible threats. Firmly, he pushed the visitors aside, without getting unnecessarily rough.
With his twenty-seven years, Butler was close to invincible, young enough to be on the maximum of his physical strength - and that was enormous. At the same time old enough to have gathered much experience in his metier. Though - or rather because of which - he didn't tend to provoke wilfully, even less so in the presence of his principal. Especially in a place like this, a mass brawl due to some minor reason wouldn't do anything to make his job easier.
And, as it was, Claas McHauley was very well able to pick a quarrel without him.
"Fancy a game, Butler?" McHauley yelled at him.
Butler lifted an eyebrow. "A game, sir?"
The boy smacked his hand at his forearm. "The good old Butler!" he hooted, just like they would've known each other for years and not for two days. "That serious! Game, yes! Don't know yet? You will get to!"
He dragged Butler behind him to an insuspicious passage, covered by a thick curtain. Any less alert visitor might have overseen it, but Butler had examined it thoroughly more than once. As a possible threat.
"Sir, I highly recommend you not to -"
"Have fun? Yeah yeah, I know!"
The thick, velvety curtain brushed over Butler's shoulder and they were through.
Their way led through a short, dark corridor up to a metal door that said "private". McHauley teared it open and they were located in a tiny, windowless backroom.
The booming bass of the music was silenced here - what meant in turn, that nobody in the club would hear somebody screaming in here.
Hadn't the room been such a nightmare security-wise, Butler might have called it cosy. It was packed with colourful, soft armchairs and cushions, bookshelfs were ranged along the walls and in the centre of the room enthroned a poker table.
At this table sat a young man, only a few years older than Claas McHauley and so average that the least people would've been able to describe him. What was indeed advantaging his endeavours, according to what Butler had heard. Jordan Elpish was, despite his young age, a known figure in London's underworld.
Every nerve in Butler's body was tensed while he nosed unobstrusively in front of the only exit and looked the other present over.
Behind Elpish stood another young man in a Hawaiian shirt that jarred cruelly with the garish manga-tattoos on his arms and neck. He was slender, almost haggard, his hands rested nonchalantly in the pockets of his shorts. At Elpish's side was a pretty brunet in a modest, but skintight black dress. Chewing audibly on a chewing gum, she inspected her finger nails.
All of the present looked like Butler could simply break them in two. Anyway, Butler didn't allow himself to be lulled into a sense of security by externals. That was a rookie mistake. And Butler wasn't a rookie but one of the best.
McHauley strode to the table and flopped on the free chair without waiting for any kind of invitation. His gaze wandered over the young woman.
"Oi, Elpish, fancy a game?"
Elpish condescended to a half smile. "Sure. If the stake's fine, anytime."
Butler saw the dangerous glint in his eyes. McHauley didn't. "My father is Malcolm McHauley!" he roared. "My stake's always fine!"
Of course, judging the principals entrusted to him didn't appertain to Butler. But if he had been less professional, he might have rolled his eyes right now. And wished for the young Fowl to be all different than McHauley.
A bit smarter, maybe.
The girl dealed and McHauley took the chance to squint at her neckline. "Why not make this thing a bit more interesting," he suggested. Oh no, thought Butler.
McHauley went for his most smug grin and pointed his thumb at the young woman. "One hour with her alone back in here, if I win, what do you say?"
Elpish's right eye twitched in his otherwise motionless face. This little twitch set off Butler's alarm bells, more than every blowup could've done.
He placed a warning hand on McHauley's shoulder but he kept on blathering unblinking. "You can't have all the sexys in your joint for yourself, ya know that, huh?"
Elpish's voice was quiet but clear and cold like glass shards. "Sexy you believe my sister to be, yes? How flattering."
The grin dropped off McHauley's face as he realised that he had made a mistake.
Elpish smiled but his eyes stayed cold. "Originally I had planned to simply keep you here until your father transferred the ransom. It could've been very pleasant, maybe you wouldn't even have noticed you are a hostage. But now ..."
Butler had already dragged McHauley half off his chair when the guy behind Elpish flew over the table.
At least you could've thought that he flew, considering how quick and elegant his leap was. A champagne glass that Elpish had placed on the table swayed slightly in the airstream, but kept standing.
No doubt the bodyguard intended to blindside strength with swiftness.
His bad that Butler had both.
He ducked, dragged McHauley behind his broad back with his left and punched the attacker in the stomach with his right. Everything happened in a split second.
The man went to the floor, a lot less elegant than just, and took the poker table with him. Cards flew about and the champagne glass shattered at the wall. Elpish's sister squeaked.
The bodyguard came to his feet surprisingly fast, his eyes glinted gruelling.
Butler could've checkmated the man easily while he was still dizzy but his charge was hanging at his arm and blaring in his ear. "C'mon, Butler! Shellac him!"
The man went for an attack. In the same moment, Miss Elpish drew a knive and approached Butler by the other side.
"My apologies," Butler said gallantly. Then, he grabbed the girl and threw her on the other bodyguard. Both went down in a tangle of arms and legs.
This time, Butler seized the opportunity and simply threw McHauley over his shoulder. The other bodyguard came to his feet when Butler had grabbed the leg of the fallen poker table and dragged it behind him, out of the room.
The door slammed shut and Butler wedged the door handle at the table. That wouldn't hold forever but it didn't need to. Just long enough for him to bring his principal to safety.
Back through the corridor, into the "La Olala". The cramped club was another obstacle - Elpish might have positioned his men here. But soon Butler had brought McHauley outside without any further events.
"Why did you just scoot?" he ranted. "We could've finished them off!"
Butler scowled. "Because your life was at stake. And my task is to protect you, not to hatch bar fights."
McHauley shrunk a bit under Butler's gaze.
"But ..."
Butler would never know what McHauley wanted to say, and he didn't mourn that either. For in this moment, the chauffeur they were here with arrived. He delivered the agreed password, that ensured Butler that the message was truly sent by Artemis Fowl, and three words.
Half an hour later, Class McHauley sat in his limousine heading to the estate of his father, and Butler sat in a plane to Ireland.
The message was: "It has started."
When Butler arrived in the Sisters of Mercy Hospital, his uncle greeted him at the reception. He gave the nurses a hint and both men passed the entrance hall without any delays.
The Major was just a tad smaller than Butler, but equally as broad. Nothing about his steely composure hinted that this was not an ordinary day.
"Is everything fine?" Butler asked.
The Major eyed his nephew from head to toe. "I checked the entrance hall, more men are at the side exits. No attackers in sight."
Butler nodded. He knew by experience that trying to get more information out of his uncle was senseless.
They arrived in the fourth floor in front of a plain door. "Stand guard here. I'll secure the building again."
The Major slipped into the room shortly to make last agreements, and Butler caught a glance at Madam Fowl, sitting huffing and with wide open eyes in the bed. The Major went and Butler's guard began.
The following hours were amongst the most terrible of his life. Madam Fowl, the wife of his employer, was crying in pain and he couldn't do anything to help her. There was no attacker he could take down, no flight route he could run with her. He just stayed put in front of the plain, white door and waited.
Then, after an eternity, it went quiet.
Too quiet?
Butler listened, tensed to the maximun.
Until, finally, a quiet squawk broke the silence.
A moment later, the door was teared open. Artemis Fowl stood in front of him, composed as always - if a little more pale than usual.
"Come in," was all he said.
Madam Fowl sat in the bed. Exhausted, but still upright and elegant. In her arm was a tiny bunch.
Butler secured the room with a few quick glances, then stepped to the bed. He could feel his heart pouncing.
Domovoi Butler was prepared for accidents, torture, cold, heat and deprivations - but not for this moment.
"My congratulations, Madam Fowl. Master Fowl," he said and bowed his head. Somehow he managed his voice not to tremble.
A smile scurried over Angeline Fowl's face and she reached her arms out at him. "Take him."
The Major cleared his throat. "I do not believe this is necessary. A certain distance between bodyguard and principal -"
"I insist." Madam Fowl's voice was clear, despite the tribulations she just went through. "I won't give my baby to a stranger."
The mischief of his uncle was clear to Butler but he couldn't do anything against the direct wish of his principal's wife. He reached out, and Madam Fowl placed the baby in his arms.
The tiny human being almost vanished inbetween his muscles. The weight was basically non-existent for him.
"My boy," Master Fowl said proudly. "Artemis Fowl the Second."
As if on cue, the baby looked up and stared directly at Butler with deep blue eyes.
Butler stared back. He had known that it would be his task to watch over a baby. He had been prepared.
But know he knew it, crystal. He would protect this baby with his life, as long as he could.
The magic moment passed as Artemis Fowl the Second clamped his tiny hand around Butler's ponytail that had fallen over his shoulder.
Artemis Fowl the First furrowed his brow. "Are you sure that this ... haircut won't distract you in your duties?"
"Don't worry," Butler answered. "Nothing can keep me from protecting your son."
Juliet frowned in a way that didn't match the child's face at all. "And you did this for your prince-people?"
Butler stifled the upcoming laugh. "Principal, Juliet. Principal." He ran a hand over the smooth skin of his fresh shaven head.
Juliet looked inquisitively at the tiny baby, lolled in his cradle, and poked his nose with her finger.
Butler watched his sister tenderly. He had become a brother when he long hadn't expected it anymore but his parents always were good for a surprise. And now he enjoyed it even more. Was she really five? He'd miss their playful martial-arts-units in the dojo of Fowl Manor when Juliet would enter the Academy.
"He's so cute, Dom!"
Butler rose a finger to his lips. "Juliet, we talked about this!" he said with soft reprimand. "No names when the principal is there. He's very young now but it's important. Madam Ko would be very mad if she heard you telling him my first name."
Juliet Butler wasn't easy to intimidate. But the name of Madam Ko was similar to the name of Servant Rupert for other children.
"Okay," she whispered and moved on to poke the baby's nose with her finger.
Butler watched his two charges thoughtfully, never forgetting to keep an eye on their surroundings.
Nobody would do harm to the little being in the cradle.
Not as long as he could prevent it.
