Thanks to...

Readergirl99 for the review. I would have replied by a PM but it tells me I can't, so anyway I hope you like restaurants and explosions too. Dammit... I probably shouldn't have told you that just now...

And also to Victoriarty197 for adding this fic to your alerts.

WARNINGS:- Without giving it all away there's a bit of violence. Nothing graphic though. Promise.

And one naughty word.

Let the chaos begin.

At seven o'clock sharp they were signing in at the ridiculously expensive luxury restaurant.

Once seated in one of the private booths both the elder Butler's busied themselves scanning the active room. Seeing nothing too unusual or threatening, unless the large family with the 60th birthday balloons could be counted, they both seated themselves where they could easily jump up and tried to enjoy the starters.

Dinner past without much occurrence. (Except perhaps the eight-year-old Artemis sending the waitress scurrying away for another adult menu.) At one point a slightly suspicious looking man sidled over. Then Butler gave him a glare and he suddenly changed his mind. The older bodyguard gave him a once over too, the younger giving his senior a curt nod to convey that all was well with him, to which The Major's head twitched in what Butler knew to be an acknowledging nod. A lot of working as one of a pair, or group, of bodyguards was body-language. Mostly because it was not appropriate to be constantly muttering to each other and occasionally to allow the silent conveying of messages to go unnoticed by those who shouldn't know about it. Those people being the Fowls and their enemies.

"Can I offer you the coffee menu, sirs and m'ams?" a tall, blond waiter asked.

"Yes, I think that will be desirable." Mr. Fowl affirmed.

Butler frowned, concentrating. That definitely wasn't the same guy who had served them desert. Perhaps it was customary to have a separate waiter for serving coffee in this particular restaurant, or perhaps it was the happenings of the day, which The Major had informed him of, that were making him a little paranoid. Whichever way, Butler wasn't quite happy. His soldier's sense was either on the blink, or it was telling him to get out.

When the coffee came he politely took the cup offered to him but didn't touch it - to his uncle's mild censure, but he didn't care. Something wasn't right. A short while later the same blond waiter returned.

"Ah... more coffee anyone?" Mr. Fowl asked, the answer was five shaking heads – 3 sleepy, 2 more alert. And the man that definitely hadn't been their waiter before, weaved his way back to the kitchens.

"Good lord all the excitement we've had today has left me quite exhausted." Artemis Senior admitted, running a hand over his face in an effort to wake himself up a bit.

"I quite agree." Mrs. Fowl yawned petitely. Artemis Junior was doing his best to keep his eyes open but the normally stimulating coffee seemed to have had the opposite effect.

Butler managed to keep his suspicions buried until The Major stifled a yawn. He never fell asleep on the job. Butler lifted his own cup, sniffing the cooling liquid before taking a small sip. It tasted different. Something that could be taken as an exotic flavour by the Fowls and something that could have either been forgotten by, or never taught to, his uncle. Butler however, was fairly sure that the almost non-existent taste was that of a relatively new drug nicknamed "The Big Z" by some of the top kidnappers in the world.

He began searching the restaurant for the blond waiter, eyes travelling over the many diners and easily picking out the white-suited staff. But the man he was looking for wasn't there. Probably waiting somewhere for the doping drugs to take affect. There was no way of getting out without paying the bill; that much was sure in a restaurant of this standard. Especially when your group, and the people in it, were about as obvious as an elephant in a supermarket refrigerator.

So there was no chance of just waltzing out without paying, and no way of paying the bill without the suspicious waiter bringing it to them. Considering his uncle's less-than-alert state, it would be up to him to get the family out safely. Decision made, Butler tried some getting-out tactics.

"Ready to leave, sir?" he asked Mr. Fowl.

"I suppose. There's no hurry though, eh?"

OK that convinced him. Mr. Fowl had just said eh.

"Perhaps The Major should escort you all to the car while I pay the bill." Butler said, formulating a plan. If he could get the principals out, he was fairly confident he could keep whoever had wanted them drugged busy enough for his uncle to get them away safely. He could walk back to the hotel if need be. Although 'if need be' would likely mean some bloodshed. Hopefully not on his own behalf.

"Do relax, man." Mr. Fowl grumbled, irritated. "It's not as though we're under threat every second of our lives."

Butler could strongly disagree with that last statement but he kept his mouth shut, trying to think of the least disruptive way to convince his employer that they needed to move. Now. The waiter returned.

"The bill, sirs and madams?"

"If you would, please."

Right. That left them with a minuet or two whilst the receipt machine printed out the ridiculously long list of items they had consumed and added its cost to the hefty VAT.

Butler tapped his foot on the table leg, trying to catch his uncle's attention. It worked on the third attempt. Casually, to the passing observer, Butler flicked the handle of his coffee cup and blinked simultaneously. The Major frowned whilst he tried to remember the code, but soon linked his own drowsiness with the signal for sleeping drug. Eyes widening he put in his own attempt at getting the Fowls out.

"Shall we wait outside? The traffic might be bad at this hour."

Apparently great minds think alike, thought Butler as his uncle started phase one of 'his' plan - the exact same one as Butler's, it would seem. The Major tilted his head to the exit slightly, trying to get his point across with a quick tap to the shoulder holster covered by a cough. Although as Madam Ko puts it, fools seldom differ.

"It's half-past nine, Major." Artemis Fowl Senior checked his watch. "Hardly rush hour."

Perhaps had he been more alert he would have realised that both bodyguards had now suggested they leave and perhaps they would have got out in time. As it was, the following happened.

"With respect, sir, I really think we should..." The Major tried again.

"For heavens sake stop fussing, man." Mr. Fowl snapped. "We're in a restaurant, not a war-zone."

And that was when the overhead lighting exploded spectacularly, with a deafening electrical bang, showering the table in a cascade of sparks. The bodyguards leapt up simultaneously, which was quite a feat for the drugged senior, and shielded the family with their bodies. Juliet dragged Artemis to the floor where they both cowered.

Luckily, the chandelier didn't fall but the next occurrence livened things up a bit. Smoke flooded into the room from the air-conditioning vents and added yet more chaos to the screaming swarm that the diners had become. Everyone stampeded towards the door, flooding into the street like ants from a drainpipe.

The fire alarm wailed noisily, sprinklers soaking them all, but it was what happened next that was the real issue. Something big and human-shaped flew towards them; Butler swung round automatically and knocked it to the ground with a quick elbow to the face, hoping the man had been an attacker and not just an innocent idiot running past. The next thing to happen confirmed he'd done the right thing. The Major was wrestling with someone who had attempted to get a garrotte wire round his neck but missed in the black-out. Mrs. Fowl was screaming, Mr. Fowl was shouting and Artemis and Juliet were huddled under the table. The latter gave a tug on her brother's trousers and hoped he'd understand that she had Artemis covered, which he did.

Butler was torn between covering his side of the table and helping his uncle, knowing that if he did aid him, the proud man would only rebuke him for it later. Sure enough, he needn't have worried, as just then, The Major got a purchase on his attacker's wrists and lurched backwards, crushing the man against the wall a few times until he stopped struggling.

"Get the adults out. I'll deal with the kids." Butler said as calmly as possible. The Major rubbed his neck and nodded, deciding to reprimand his nephew for giving the orders later. Although usually the phrase 'safety in numbers' was appropriate, splitting up this time meant a less obvious target to aim at in amongst the smoke and crowds rushing the door.

Hauling Artemis Senior to his feet and leading Mrs. Fowl by the arm as gently as possible under the present circumstances The Major cleared a gap as best he could through the panicking throng of people. Not that Butler could see that. No-one could see more than three foot in front of their face. Choking slightly on the thick smokescreen Butler stuck his head under the table.

"Let's go." He said, offering a hand. He quickly realised that bending down hadn't been the best of ideas when Juliet screamed and pointed, causing him to whack his head on the table and just manage to incapacitate the man who had been sneaking up on him in time to remain unharmed. For now at least. "Quickly." He added as though there had been no interruption.

It was hard to know where was the best place to stand to protect the young duo. The enemy could be anywhere - anyone. But the thick fog of black smoke helped as well as hindered since, theoretically, no-one could shoot for fear of hitting a friend.

They followed the wall, Butler keeping himself between the children and any possible threat. Suddenly, a chunk of plaster exploded mere centimetres in front of them, followed by three more. OK, so maybe they would shoot. Scooping the pair up like a snowplough with a couple of snowmen, Butler sprinted for the door and was more than annoyed to find it had been locked at some point in the pandemonium.

"Butler. The windows." Artemis's muffled shout was a good idea, except for the fact that the remaining trapped people were already pummelling at the glass. Someone was going to get crushed if they weren't careful. Butler was glad that he couldn't pick out the unmistakable shape of his uncle in the rest of the writhing shadows. At least half of the group had escaped so far.

A red laser dot cut through the smoke, dancing around for a second before landing squarely on Butler's chest. Artemis and Juliet were unceremoniously dropped out of harm's way as he instinctively turned sideways to make himself a smaller target. But, as expected, the bullet still hit him in the shoulder. Pain exploded from the impact site, but he ignored it. He'd had worse.

Dropping to the floor would have been the usual response to being under fire, however it would have been a bad idea at this point given the amount of people standing. But if everyone else did the same...

"Get down." Butler bellowed and surprisingly a few people obeyed, the others following out of fear. Next he heaved a massive wooden table onto its side to use as a shield, upper arm complaining at the tension it received as he did so. Dishes crashed to the floor and littered it with food like a coating of confetti. An extravagantly candled cake was demolished in the movement, wax dripping onto the expensive carpet but thankfully the sprinklers had already taken care of any chances of a blaze.

More bullets whizzed past, some putting hairline cracks in the glass front walls and ricocheting off, others burying themselves deep into the table's woodwork. It held. But it wouldn't for too long. Someone had to get that door open and quick.

In the absence of someone to do that small thing, Butler figured it would have to be him.

"Stay low and don't move." He said firmly to his sister.

"Why, what are you doing?"

"Opening the door."

"You'll be shot." Artemis pointed out.

"Kevlar." Butler let the one word explanation hang. "Now stay down."

Before they could argue he had jumped up, crossed the few paces to the locked exit in a crouched run and given the glass a good solid boot at a particularly spider-webbed point. Butler kept his head ducked low as bullets pounded into his back, stopped proficiently enough by the vest he was wearing that only the one that hit him in the arm did any damage. The same arm as the last bullet, which was a blessing as well as a curse.

Unfortunately, despite the considerable amount of effort he had put into the kick, the blast-proof glass still held. He fell to the floor in a motion he hoped would look like the result of a serious injury to the marksmen, crawling his way back past screaming people to relative safety. His arm was killing him. Well, not literally. Yet.

"OK, that didn't exactly work as planned." He admitted, breathing deeply to banish the throbbing pain from his thoughts, if not from his arm.

As all three of them were thinking of a way out of this predicament, a giant shadow appeared, silhouetted by the gathering police lights outside and fired a full magazine of shots into the metal hinges of the glass door. It groaned and, with a bit of persuasion from the silhouette's boots, finally toppled inwards and shattered, leaving a flurry of deadly snow on the floor. Obviously the restaurant owners hadn't shelled out too much on security. Although the glass was blast and moderately bullet-proof it had not been certificated shatter-proof through severe impact.

The crowd barrelled for the exit and squeezed out at the cost of a few cuts and grazes from the shards. Butler was more careful. Artemis and Juliet had only sustained a few scratches so far and he intended to keep it that way.

"Crawl out and if you can, try to keep off the glass." He said as they made their escape. A few more shots were fired but The Major returned them and they soon stopped.

"Cowards." He muttered, helping his charge's son to his feet and leaving Juliet for Butler.

As they made their way to the police barrier that had been set up, Butler stayed as rear guard, gun trained on the rectangle of smoke pouring from the building but nothing corporal came out of it.

Their attackers had apparently used the back door.

"Excuse me sir, but do you have a licence for that weapon?" A police officer asked as soon as they were behind the blockade.

"Yes, yes. We both do." The Major snapped, spotting the remaining Fowls where he'd left them by an ambulance and striding over to them.

The officer shouldn't really have left it there, but he took one look at the people he'd be apprehending if he did pursue the case and decided to join the hunt for the other men with guns.

"Arty!" Angeline cried, grabbing her son and holding him close. "I was so worried!"

"I'm fine mother. A few superficial scratches, that's all... thanks to Butler."

"Juliet, are you ok too, darling?" Mrs. Fowl hugged her as well.

"Fine thanks. No harm done." Juliet grinned, thrilled by the excitement of it all. At least until she noticed her brother was bleeding. "Oh god, you got shot."

"Close, but I'm not quite a divine being just yet." He teased.

"And the correct grammar is 'you've been shot'." Artemis told her. "But yes, he has."

"Are you OK?" Juliet's lip trembled slightly and she hugged her brother's waist.

"I'll live, Jules." He smiled, patting her on the head.

"Want me to look at it?" she asked.

"No it's alright." He said quickly, remembering a previous (and rather disastrous) time his little sister had attempted to tend to his wounds. "I'll do it."

Butler rotated his shoulder. No screamingly agonising pain hopefully meant no joint damage. That was a good start. Deciding that taking off his shoulder holster to be able to remove his shirt would be too much hassle, he draped his jacket over Juliet (who was wearing a short sleeved top and whose jumper had been left behind in the confusion) and ripped the sleeve off at the shoulder. It wasn't a great loss since 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 tried to get a good look at the two neat holes in his side and back of his bicep.

Luckily, the bullets probably hadn't hit the bone from what he could see and feel, but he certainly wouldn't be lifting any weights on that muscle for a while. Also, they hadn't exited into his chest, which was always a good thing. Except for the fact that they hadn't exited at all. Which meant, unless his uncle could manage it, he would require hospital attention to remove the offending lumps of metal, lest he never be able to pass through airport security without lengthy explanations and an x-ray.

Well. That wouldn't make much difference. He hardly ever got through the rigorous security checks without being stopped anyway.

"How bad?" The Major grunted, slightly guilty at not noticing the injuries sooner.

"I'll live." Butler repeated, shaking his head slightly. It was only a couple of bullets and they weren't anywhere near life-threatening.

"Good to hear. Still, Madame Fowl has already sent for a paramedic."

"Fabulous." Butler muttered. Now he would be subject to...

"Hello there, sir. I see you have some nasty looking bullet wounds there, would you mind following me to the ambulance. Can you walk ok? I can get a chair if need be."

Butler fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was his arm that was busted up, not his leg blown off. Annoyingly, most paramedics treated everyone under the same umbrella of 'civilian wimp' and did not take into account that their current patient may have been shot seventeen... make that nineteen... times in his murky past and two more bullets weren't going to make much of a difference.

Several paramedics directed him to the vehicle, hovering around him as though he was about to keel over at any moment. He was given a silver foil blanket, which was about as successful as wrapping a bear in tinfoil. Sorely tempted to screw the thing up and throw it at one of the hoverers heads he contented himself with craning his neck so he could still see the others.

Sitting down on the ambulance step, putting the suspension on the vehicle to the test, Butler grudgingly allowed the man to start patching him up, trying to keep an eye on Artemis and Juliet who were being treated for shock and grazes at the back of another ambulance. Butler could see his uncle, constantly checking for threats, and forced himself to calm down a bit. Perhaps that would be it for the night. Their foe had certainly failed to do whatever it was they had planned.

"This may sting a bit." warned the paramedic, dabbing the bullet wounds with disinfectant. It did sting. A bit. Butler's features didn't change, so the medic continued his cleaning. "You should probably come with me to the hospital and get these sorted out properly. The bullets are too far in for me to get just now..."

Butler wasn't listening. A shifty movement just outside the glow cast by the emergency vehicles had caught his attention. Had he really seen that? Or was he just being paranoid? Training had taught him that you could never be too cautious.

"...you might need an operation to remove..."

Butler raised a hand to silence the man. The foil slipped off his shoulders. He didn't notice. Something was about to happen. He could feel it.

"Are you ok?" the confused medic asked, concerned at his patient's strange actions.

"Wait a minuet." Butler scanned the crowds and then beyond them into the streets. Whatever had caused his suspicion was gone. So if he couldn't see anything, why did he still have that feeling.

He kept watching. If there was one thing life had taught him it was to trust his instincts.

A minuet passed, maybe two.

Then he saw it, a flash of metal under a streetlight that others would have taken as a reflection from something.

It was a reflection - a reflection off a shotgun barrel.

Lurching to his feet in a movement that flung the stunned paramedic to the floor Butler yelled a warning. His uncle shoved the Fowl couple behind the police vehicle they were standing near just in time, apparently saving them from a hail of bullets which, in retrospect, would have sailed harmlessly overhead. A waste of bullets really. And a risky move with so many police vehicles around. Some of the ex-diner's screamed shrilly and Butler wished they'd all shut up a minuet so he could figure this out. Why would they do that?

And that was when, in amongst the alien voices, one cry stood out.

"Butler!" screamed his sister.

It wasn't a pointless waste of ammunition. It was a distraction.

A distraction.

Long and mostly uninteresting Author's note (gah I hate how long this is) feel free to skip it :-

Firstly: - Oh yeah - forgot to tell you it was a bit of a long chappie. And I know I just left you on a bit of a cliffie. Sorry about that.

Secondly:- The quote is from a guy named Wilt Chamberlain and I read it out of a book with funny pictures of dogs acting out quotes which I unfortunately can't remember the title of.

Thirdly (and you really don't have to read this, it's not part of the story, just me moaning on really. Sorry.): -

Don't you hate it when authors constantly nag for reviews and bribe you with stuff you're never gonna get? Cause I dunno about everyone else but I've never even got a cyber-cookie of the people who offer them.

Anyway. On a more serious note, I promise no matter what (within reason) that I'll post this whole fic because there's nothing worse than wanting to know the ending when you're never going to get it.

However, this is the fourth chapter I've posted and so far I've had just the 4 reviews.

(4 lovely, brilliant reviews that made me grin like an idiot at my screen so much my family got suspicious and asked me what I was looking at, but still just the 4 which is only enough for one per chapter.)

I told myself I was never going to nag on for reviews so I'm not doing, right?

I'm not threatening not to post anymore and I'm definitely not saying "X more reviews until I'll put up the next chapter" because that's just annoying.

I know Artemis Fowl tends to be a quiet sort of zone on FanFic but if you're out there reading this, I'd love to hear from you.

It doesn't need to be an essay on my dodgy grammar, odd spelling, occasional OTTness with the apostrophes and/or crazy sentence structure, just a "I like it/What the hell is this crap?" will do.

You'll make my day, honest.

Thanks for reading anyway.

Wolfy

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