Big thanks to: Shadow914, shiningpearls, Guest, Fowl Fox, Steinbock and ghost235 - great to have you all back on board!

WARNINGS: swearing, violence, threat of violence etc... Wolfy's slightly shoddy medical jargon...

CHAPTER TWO

'TAKE CARE'

Definition: 1) to keep oneself safe, 2) to ensure something is done

The Gaiety Theatre, Dublin

"Alright, alright…" Myles said, dragging him into an upright sitting position against the wall. "Sit still. Stop talking."

Dom was crouched with his back against the wall, still cradling the handgun. The Major didn't take it from him. If it was giving him some comfort, he didn't see why he should. Hell; the boy might even be able to use it if it came to it. He shot him a look and the seven-year-old nodded once. They didn't need to speak to communicate.

"Well congratulations, Bates," he said, pulling a plastic-wrapped packet from the inner pocket of his jacket and tearing it open with his teeth.

"What d'I win," Bates grimaced. "Lifetime supply of travel tissues?"

"You know what?" Myles said, tugging the other man's tie out of the way, ripping open his shirt and stuffing the white wad of material down the front of the guard's substandard vest. "Survive this and I might even get to like you."

Dom watched one small, pearly, white button from Bates' shirt bounce onto the carpet and roll away. He blinked. He was too young for them to have truly taught him how to react in any given situation, but as a Butler he had automatically gone into 'apocalypse mode'. Nothing matter if it wasn't immediately life threatening. Anything that needed more than a moment's processing was compartmentalised for later. Focus on the present. Stay alive. Neutralise threats.

"High praise… I bet," the Simmons guard mused, stifling a cough.

"Well you should be honoured; I'm using the good stuff on you."

"Good stuff?" Bates hacked, looking down at his chest and groaning.

"These packs. They're not cheap shit like your vest."

"No expense spared for… Fowl guards, eh?" he panted.

"Ah, not exactly," The Major admitted. "My father bought them from a military friend of his."

"You used… them before?"

"No, but he assured him they're 'the future'."

"Great," Bates grimaced, sounding unconvinced. "I'll let… you know, eh?"

"Well, if they work I can ask him to…" Myles cut himself short. "I'll get more. You got any blood-bournes I need to know about?"

Bates shook his head again. "Clean, as far as I know."

"Good," grunted the Fowl guard, who had neglected to put on protective gloves. He had once worked in a team where gloves were a priority, but currently, the only person he was usually likely to be patching up was his father, or in dire circumstances, one of the charges – and he knew every medical detail about any one of them by heart. He refused to think too much about the possibility of administering medical treatment on Dom. It made him feel... spirally.

"Anything I can do, Major?"

Myles didn't jump easily, but that almost made him leap to his feet from his kneeling position.

"Artemis?! What in hell are you still doing here?" he demanded.

"They… they told us to stay. They took the adults," Artemis explained, stepping out of the alcove he had been told to wait in.

And your parents let that happen? The Major seethed, pushing one hand on top of Bates' wound and rooting in his pockets again with the other.

"Hold this – pressure, you know the drill," he instructed the bodyguard, pulling out a small, black case from his jacket. "You ok with morphine?"

Bates nodded. "Yep."

"Junior, come here – medi-pack, needle box with the number ten on it. Get it out and pass it to me."

Dom switched out of standby, busying his hands with the zip of the hard case his uncle tossed to him.

"They told us it would be safer if we split up," the Fowl boy continued, hesitantly. He wasn't sure if his bodyguard was still listening to him.

The Major used his teeth to uncap the needle Dom passed him.

"Hold still," he warned Bates as he ripped open the Velcro fastenings of his vest and peeled back the top quarter from the shoulder.

The injured man gritted his teeth, knowing what was coming.

"So we…" – Artemis gestured to the girl with him.

The Major thudded the needle down as indifferently as throwing a dart and pressed the plunger, forcing the liquid into Bates' pectoral. He may have been focused on his patient, but he saw the boy's waving hand looking in the periphery of his vision and turned to look.

"Both of you?!" he exclaimed.

The girl stood with Artemis suddenly realised who his bodyguard was treating and leapt forward.

"Bates!" she cried. "Are you alright?"

"Oh I'm fine and dandy, Miss Sophia. I just…" – The Fowl bodyguard removed the needle with a sharp tug, massaging the pinprick wound with the heel of his hand roughly for a few seconds – "I just don't like needles," Bates assured her – although his immediate coughing up of blood afterwards did little to convince her he was telling the truth.

Myles took stock during the exchange, recapping the needle and pocketing it. Ideally it'd be placed in a sharps box, but considering that getting jabbed with a used needle from a reportedly 'clean' human was way low down on his current list of potential fatal causes, he'd worry about that later.

He had his charge, his nephew, an injured party and that man's charge.

He had two guns – three, including his fath… nephew's gun, four or five including Bates' own, depending how many the other guard carried – and no back-up.

The best he could do was get the children to ground and keep them safe until further help arrived.

And he couldn't very well do that in the middle of a corridor.

"Right," he said, so suddenly Dom's head snapped up automatically in readiness for the next order. "Who's they, Artemis? How many people?"

"Erm… Our parents – both of our parents, I mean... So that's four – and the three other Simmons guards. Although one of them was injured… ah…" Artemis's eyes flicked to his new acquaintance and he bit his lip. "Ah… quite badly. They left him behind. He was supposed to stay with us, but he followed the group shortly after they left."

His bodyguard acknowledged the information and turned back to Bates.

"Your watch have a timer?"

Bates nodded, holding out his sleeve. Myles thumbed the buttons on the edge of the timepiece, setting the stopwatch off.

"Morphine clock – four hours 'til the next shot, you got that?"

"If I make it that long," Bates said under his breath.

The Major slapped him twice on the good side of his chest. "Think positive, soldier."

Then he turned to the rest of the group.

"Right," he said, trying to concentrate on the very many things at once was leaving nothing but one-syllable forms of communication available to him. "All on me. We need to find a room to hole up in."

Most likely the team that was after them would do a sweep of the theatre, but he had a feeling it was not the children that were the targets and with the adults gone… He felt a momentary concern for his father's charge, but dismissed it. His employer had, and he would make it his judgement until further information arose, essentially abandoned his son in an unsecure location. He would never abandon Dom – as well trained as the seven-year-old could possibly be – in somewhere even half as dangerous as the situation they were in now.

Dom isn't your son, though. Is he?

He declined to reply to that mental irking.

"Right, come on. Junior, come here and get hold of Bates's other side, there's a good lad," he said. Orders would make the boy feel better, just as it did him. "You two, stay close."

The Fowl boy and the Simmons girl did exactly as they were told. Which was fortunate, because The Major didn't have a spare hand to grab hold of them with, what with Bates hauling himself steady on one of his arms and his gun taking priority in the other.

"You sure… you're OK, kid?" Bates rasped, as Dom grabbed hold of his elbow, pushing upwards firmly.

"He's sturdy, don't you worry," Myles said, his eyes flicking up momentarily as he visualised the blueprint maps his father had insisted he memorise – and how glad he was now that he had. "OK, let's move. There's a maintenance room coming up – should be third door on the right."

The motley group made their way down the corridor too slowly for anyone's liking; except Bates, who would happily have gone slower if it wouldn't have compromised their safety any more than it already was.

Artemis was at the front of the group and reached for the doorhandle.

"Wait!" his bodyguard barked, pulling Bates over to the wall where he leaned heavily – the morphine was starting to get to work and although the pain was lessening, he was experiencing the unnerving sensation of losing his full alertness. "Let me check it first."

The Major placed a palm against the wood.

"What's he doing?" Sophia hissed to Artemis, who faltered, nonplussed.

"Feeling for vibrations," Dom spoke for the first time since he had left the box.

The Major took a breath and, holding his gun in readiness, twisted the handle.

He stepped inside, eyes alert for any movement. But there was none.

"OK, clear. Get inside."

Once the four of them were through, he closed the door and locked it. Not that it would do much good against someone who really wanted to enter, but if they stayed quiet enough, it might put off a passing sweeper.

The room wasn't very big, but it was rather full. There was a table of cleaning supplies, covered with a plasticky table-cloth. The Major pulled it back, checking the space beneath. Nothing. And barely big enough for two, medium-sized adults to hide under. He opened the tall, metal cupboard in the corner. A mop, a broom, some toilet paper stacked neatly in rows of six... nothing immediately useful. The most interesting thing the room could offer was a wooden hatch which when he opened revealed a dumb-waiter. But it was small. Almost too small for Dom, even. He made a thorough check of the rest of the room, even going so far as to lift some of the cardboard boxes stacked against the walls. Cleaning supplies, mostly. Empty spray bottles, disinfectant and the likes. There was a desk against one wall, tinsel hung around a calendar of half-naked women, but not even so much as a biro to use as a weapon.

He pulled out the chair though, offering to Bates who collapsed into it, gratefully.

"OK. Now listen to me, here's what's going to happen," he said, gathering them all in a circle. "You four are going to stay he…"

"But Major!"

"Quiet, Artemis!" his bodyguard said shortly. "It's important that you listen."

"Sorry," the Fowl boy said, very quietly; quite perturbed by the unusual directive.

"Thank-you. Now you four are going to stay here. You're going to lock the door and most importantly you are going to stay silent. No talking. No moving. Not just quiet; silent. Do you understand?"

"Yes Uncle," Dom said first, the others murmuring affirmatives.

"I'm going to go back out there and see if I can find any of the bast…" he paused, composing his temper. "See if I can find any of the men who are responsible for this. Or, alternatively, your parents. If I don't come across anything, I'm going to make my way to the car and call for back-up from the manor – although no doubt the police are involved by now. Then I'm going to come back for you."

"Major, if I may…"

"What, Artemis? What is it?" he demanded, having no patience at all for whatever plan his young charge was about to suggest differing to his own. Improvements or concerns; he didn't have time for them.

"What will you do if you do… you know, come across... anyone?"

The bodyguard looked at him with his dark eyes.

"My job, young sir," he said. "I'll do my job."

Artemis swallowed. It didn't take much imagination to work out what that meant.

Caretaker's Room, The Gaiety Theatre, Dublin

The Major had not been gone long when they heard movement outside the door they had locked behind him. They had turned off the desk lamp, but the eerie, green glow from the somewhat pointlessly fixed 'fire exit' sign illuminated above the door cast just enough light to see in shade of grey.

They froze – as if they were not still enough already – and could hear voices on the other side of the wood.

"Whoo! Aaand we've got ourselves a bleeder, ladies and gents!"

There was a sadistic, almost game-show host-like tone to the voice.

Dom felt his heartbeat pounding in his palms.

Sophia closed her eyes.

Artemis steadied himself on the table.

And Bates? Bates just breathed. Slowly. Trying desperately not to irritate his trachea into producing a fateful cough.

"What? What are you jabbering about?"

"Over here – see? Blood. On the wall."

Bates swallowed, turning his hand over very slowly in the half-light. It was sticky and damp. He cringed. Shit.

"You think it's The Butler?"

"Nah – I sparked him from across the room, didn't I? Triple points for a headshot, right?"

"Triple points? I'll fucking give you triple points!" the second man snapped. "You fucked up, Forbes. Because of you and your ego McPherson is dead and we're stuck sweeping this whole damn building."

"McPherson got cocky sticking out of cover like that. It was a lucky shot by that young guy. He's no Butler, though – and I'm pretty sure I got him too."

"And what about the actual younger Butler? You spark him too, did you?"

"Dunno."

"So you missed him. Great."

"McPherson tagged him a few times on the floor before he bought it. He's probably dead by now – or he's the bleeder and look at the fucking carpet – no-one with that much blood sieving out of them is lasting long."

Bates licked his lips in the dimness of the room, feeling Sophia's eyes on him.

"Was he still moving when you last saw him?"

"Yeah – so what?"

"So what? A Diamond – a son of The Butler no less – could be hunting us right now and you say 'so what'?"

There was a silence.

"It was simple. Take out the big ones all at once, leave the trophies for the boss. But no, you had to go bagging big game of your own, didn't you?"

"Still a sweet shot," came the sullen reply. "Never saw it coming."

"Of course he never saw it coming – you started the fucking shootout!"

"Someone had to – you lot were all just sitting there scratching your arses."

"We were waiting for the signal!"

"What signal? Waiting until the little ones had to take a potty break because none of you have the balls to shoot when the kiddies are near? We needed to get the job done. I got it done."

"You're an arsehole, you know that? And yeah, actually – I don't like having kids on my conscience. It ain't right screwing some kids' whole lives up because of their families. Those two posh brats and The Butler's grandson saw the whole thing, man. That's just harsh."

"And?" the shooter snorted. "Kid'll be dead in a coupla hours anyway. They all will."

"You better hope it, or you just set up a grudge match with the next young Butler in ten years."

"Oh give up – I'll kill him now while he's small if you're too squeamish."

The second man seemed to have tired of the conversation about murdering children and turned back to the matter at hand. Which was a pity, for Dom would much rather be sat listening to his proposed future death than experiencing it, as was the likelihood should that door be opened.

"What about this room? If you shot the Simmons guard too, then where are the bodies? I only counted one in the box. Did he make the corridor?"

"Well… Yeah I think so." – there was a short pause – "Like I say, I reckon the other Butler managed to get out. What's reckoning he's in here?"

"He's not."

"How do you know?"

"A Butler hiding in a cleaning cupboard and you harping on about it that loudly without being shot through the door? Not a chance. Do you have any idea how good these guys are?"

"As good as anyone when you put a few bullets in them!" he scoffed. "I dunno what you were all worrying about. That Butler went down same as any other fucker; like a sack of shit."

"You're not taking this seriously enough."

"Alright, alright; what if he stashed the shot guy in here? And what's reckoning that baby Butler is in there with him? You can erase the memory of watching his pappy's head explode personally, if you like."

"You're a sick man, Forbes."

"Shut up and pass me your picks, I know you always carry them."

"Just shoot the doorhandle."

"And bring every fucker with a badge or a gun running this way? I don't think so. Give me the fucking picks, Gary."

There was a rustling and then quite suddenly a repetitive clicking sound coming from the door.

"Shit," Bates breathed. "Right. Under that table, all of you – quickly."

"Bates," Sophia whispered. "What about you?"

"I think my number is already up, miss. Besides that, it's my job to keep you safe. And I haven't exactly done the best of that tonight. So just you hide under that table, cover your ears and let me rectify that, hey?"

The children left Bates in the middle of the room with his gun trained on the door and made their way to the table. Except Dom.

He knew that if the man was any good at picking locks, he had less than thirty seconds.

"Junior!" Artemis hissed, holding the tablecloth back and beckoning him frantically. "Junior, what are you doing?"

The Butler boy made no response but to flare his nostrils angrily at him in warning as he crossed over to the pile of boxes and began to very gently peel open one of the lids.

"Junior!"

He slammed a finger against his lip and glared.

The loudest noise in the room was when he clicked open the cap on the bottle of detergent he had found in one of the boxes and began pouring into the spray bottle he had found in another. It sloshed over some papers, dripping to the floor in the glow from the emergency lighting.

"What are you doing, kid?" Bates muttered lowly, taking the safety off his gun and letting go of the pad on his chest in favour of taking aim at the door.

"Helping," came the quiet reply.

"Get out of the way – you're going to get shot!" Bates growled at him as he stepped between the injured guard and the door.

Dom ignored him. If he was right and the man was as impulsive as his companion appeared to believe, he would open the door before he put down his picks and levelled a gun.

"Kid – Junior – whatever your name is – move!" Bates hissed.

But Dom stayed. Gun tucked into his waistband, he had instead in his hand a spray bottle; primed and full. He gave the trigger an experimental pull to gauge, spattering the liquid on the back of the door, then took rough aim.

The handle clicked and immediately opened. Had it not, Dom was thoroughly prepared to duck to the left and let Bates do the defending. But as it was, his plan rolled smoothly into action. Through the widening gap he saw someone crouched, as expected, to just the same height as his levelled spray bottle.

The man's eyes widened in surprise when he saw the movement. Which, fortunately, worked out very well for Dom indeed.

He pumped the trigger of the bottle as fast as he could, shooting jets of undiluted disinfectant directly into the face of his grandfather's shooter.

The man threw himself backwards with a scream and before his companion could do so much as point his weapon at the Butler boy, Dom had slammed the door and relocked it.

"What the hell did you do?" Artemis asked, scrambling out from under the table. "Now they know we're in here!"

"I think they knew anyway," Bates said, shaking his head and tucking his hand back down the front of his vest. "Good job, kid."

"Well now what?" Artemis demanded. "They're not going to be long getting through that door once they stop screaming."

"Maybe not, but my uncle will come back when he hears them."

"You're sure?"

Dom didn't look sure at all. He avoided his friend's eye-contact, staring around the room for anything he could use to help.

"For goodness sake, Junior – leave the guarding to the adults! I know you're trying to help but you're just a…"

"Dumbwaiter," Dom said suddenly, clicking his fingers. His manor misdemeanours had immediately coming to mind when he laid eyes on it. He had used the same trick to avoid the wrath of the junior head of security in the past. Although Harson was not usually out to shoot him… usually.

"Well… I was going to say child, I wouldn't stoop so low to call you dumb, nor merely a waiter. You family's service as bodyguards has been a greatly valued asset of my family for…"

"No, Artemis!" Sophia said, suddenly. "The dumbwaiter – we could use the dumbwaiter to get out!"

The swearing outside the door was beginning to decrease, transforming into guttural seething.

"Are you sure?" Artemis said, eyeing the small box critically.

"Got a better plan?" asked the bodyguard boy.

North Stairwell, The Gaiety Theatre, Dublin

The Major heard the screaming the floor above and changed direction immediately. Those were adult male cries and he would put money on it not being Bates. Which left either the injured Simmons guard from before, or… someone else. He made for the stairwell he had just come down, flying up the steps as fast as his legs would propel him.

Caretaker's Room, The Gaitey Theatre, Dublin

"Hurry!" Sophia hissed.

It had been decided that the Fowl heir would go first. Risky, potentially, but he insisted on not sending Sophia first and Dom refused to leave them until last in the room. Bates had solved the petty argument and decided the order for them, as exhausted as he was.

"I can't really fit!" Artemis complained, folding his long legs into the box. "This is highly uncomfortable. And we don't even know where it goes!"

"The basement," Junior said. "It goes to the basement, I'm sure. It probably stops at every floor, but don't get out until it stops completely."

"I swear to God, Junior," Artemis said irritably. "If I get stuck and die in this box I will…"

"Dock my wages?" the boy raised an eyebrow.

"Eleven or more years in advance, yes!" the Fowl heir snapped, but he couldn't elaborate, for at that moment his future employee shut the doors of the dumbwaiter and began to lower the box into the bowels of the building.

It seemed like an age before there was a sudden thump as he hit the bottom. The doors didn't open and for a moment he was panicked.

"Junior!" he called in the darkness. "The door – how do I open it?"

Far above on the second floor, nobody heard anything but the thud of the dumbwaiter's abrupt halt.

"The door…" Junior said after a moment. "He'll be stuck because of the doors. I should've gone down first…"

"Bring him back up," Sophia said. "Quickly – and we can give him something to prise it open with."

"Can't," Dom shook his head. "Might chop him in half if he's getting out. We have to wait for him to send it back up."

"Well what if he doesn't? Those men will…"

Fortunately, at that moment, several floors below, Artemis managed to collect himself, worm his fingers between the gap of the door and the frame and force it open with a kick of his loafered feet. He crashed out into the –thankfully deserted – basement in a pile of indignant coat tails. He coughed, breathing deeply as though he had been stuck in the box for hours, rather than the minute or so he had actually been sat with his knees pressed close against his chest. He slapped his hand onto the button to send the dumbwaiter back up, grateful that the modernised system meant there was no need for him to haul on a rope to return it back to the upper floors.

Still, it took an agonisingly long time to arrive for those still upstairs.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Sophia asked as she too folded herself into the small space.

"Well, we have to sort of guess so since Artemis made it," the younger boy said, and closed the door.

"Have to guess?!" the girl yelped.

But it was too late for second thoughts. At any moment, the men outside could decide to start shooting at the door. Dom sent the mini-lift down and waited. While he did, he checked on Bates. They had dragged him from the middle of the room to the edge so that he would have longer to react to an intruder. But he was beginning to succumb to the bloodloss, his head drooping and hand loosening on the grip of his handgun.

"Mister Bates…" he said, jostling him gently.

Bates' eyes flickered open. "Careful how you say that, kid."

"What?" Dom frowned.

Bates chuckled, wincing. "Nevermind. You'll get it when you're older."

If you get older, he thought to himself.

"You get yourself in that dumbwaiter," he said. "I owe it to your uncle to keep you safe, but seems you're doing most the saving."

"I… I can't take you with us," the boy bit his lip. "I'm really sorry."

Bates whooshed a breath through his teeth.

"Don't you worry about me. I'm a gonner anyway."

"Don't say that…" Dom said, his face scrunching in concern.

"No, no – don't you worry about that. I'm looking forward to getting a shot at that bastard that killed your grandpa and me," he said. "You get yourself after those two. God knows you've more sense than the pair of them. People like us, kid… the world needs more people like us."

Dom gave him a nod. "My uncle will be here. He's always gets here. Just… just wait for him. You'll see."

"Aye," Bates nodded, not willing to burst the kid's bubble. "I'll wait. Go on now – get going."

Dom climbed into the dumbwaiter reluctantly.

"Erm… good luck," he said, reaching out and pressing the button to send the lift down, the door closing almost immediately.

"You too, kid," Bates said, then fixed his gaze on the only other exit to the room.

There was a sudden noise from the other side and he smiled.

Maybe the kid was right after all.

Well then...

Wolfy
ooo
O

01/12/18