First Sight

[leveraged_buyout]

Lucien Moreau wasn't in town often, and that was the way Damien liked it. The less he saw the man who sired him the better, and even when the household was full of his spies who undoubtedly reported every little detail back to the old geezer, at least Damien didn't have to see him.

But if old Moreau arrived back on an early flight and summoned for his presence, as much as Damien didn't want to, he obeyed those summons. It didn't matter that he was still abed when the butler delivered them 15 minutes ago, his father demanded to see him and Damien obeyed.

It was only down the hall and into Moreau senior's private studies, but it still felt like it was going into another world. Damien's loafers clicked loudly on the tiles as he walked down the long hall of the west wing, the original section of the mansion that he normally avoided altogether. This was the old man's wing, a part of the ancient mansion that was inherited down generations, unlike the newer east and south wings which were added only shortly before Damien was born.

Dressed up presentably in a three piece suit, hair quickly slicked back to battle the his bedhead, Damien knocked on the large study doors and waited to be admitted. He covered his yawn with a fist as he waited, mind still blanked by the early morning to ponder the reason for the meeting.

Comments

[a_very_distinctive]

Arrogant, spoiled little shit, and no doubt about it, but Eliot's signed on to protect him and that's exactly what he's going to do. So he ignores the clear brush-off and simply goes about his day as planned. Which involves reviewing everything to do with the office's security, from the locking systems to the security cameras to the lockdown procedures and everything in between... including the men left downstairs, who find themselves on disciplinary report when Eliot comes back down for an unscheduled check to them lounging around over coffee. Because they're 'not needed until Mr. Moreau leaves the office again'. Which is bullshit as far as Eliot's concerned. They're the first god damn line of defense and they'd better start acting like it.

What he doesn't do is aggressively invade Damien's personal bubble. Though he's in the office for the entire day, and within spitting--or gunshot--distance of Damien for most of it, he's passably discreet about it. He's generally at the far edge of what he calculates to be his charge's awareness, just far enough that he doesn't have to be acknowledged. But he is there, and he is watching, and he has very definitely made some changes to the office's security protocols by the end of the day, when he's waiting for Damien at the elevator.

[leveraged_buyout]

Damien did his best to ignore the new head of security who was already several floors closer than he would like him to be. The security from home stayed away from his office, that was how it had always been. No doubt reports of what he did still got back to his father, but he didn't need active spies looking over his shoulder.

Perhaps Spencer congratulated himself on staying to the outside edges of Damien's peripheral vision, but no matter how he tried, Damien was still acutely aware of Spencer's presence. The man was a thorn that kept poking at his awareness and there was nothing Damien could do to pull it free. He breathed easier for the few hours that the man was gone and got real work done, but he still felt like most of the day was wasted pretending to be busy rather than actually doing it.

He just couldn't work with someone who he knew was looking over his shoulder.

"You have seen all you need today. You are not accompanying me tomorrow, are we clear on that, Spencer?" Damien said before the elevator arrived.

[a_very_distinctive]

Eliot tips his head slightly in what passes for polite acknowledgment. "Wasn't planning on being back until next Tuesday, when I'm gonna be overseeing some security upgrades. Should be plenty busy at the house until then, getting things up to snuff." And a top priority among those 'things' is Damien's personal security detail, who are clearly entirely too fucking lax about their job. Eliot plans to make damn sure not a single one of them ever thinks sitting around sipping a late on duty's a good life choice again.

[leveraged_buyout]

"Security upgrades." It wasn't stated as a question, but somewhere in the two words the question was implied, not about the details of the security itself, but at what Spencer thought he was doing changing things. But very clearly was the fact that Damien was less than pleased about the arrangements.

Judging from the state of the guys of his security in the lobby, Damien could see he wasn't the only one.

Yet two weeks later, the short, young kid was still there making Damien's security team disgruntled and miserable. Whatever Spencer's skills were, it prevented the others from ganging up on him to kick him out. Or maybe he was just lucky, Damien really didn't know and cared only in that they haven't succeeded in driving away this intruder to his life. And Spencer was everywhere. It got to the point where Damien expected Spencer to follow him to the bathroom or to insist cameras be installed in them.

[a_very_distinctive]

Hell, given what a snotty, spoiled little shit his charge is Eliot's actually considered following him to the can, just to get under his skin a little more. He's enough of a professional--and attached enough to the job--that he doesn't cross that line, though. He's scrupulously respectful and polite whenever there's an audience, but he doesn't take shit from anyone, including the boss's kid, and he's never anything but straightforward and direct. By two weeks in, Eliot's still there and showing no signs of moving on, but he's given a handful of the staff--both security and household--their walking papers, and is intensely focused on training up the replacements as well as getting everyone up to speed on the security upgrades he's still in the process of having installed. All of which means he's busy as hell, and yet he still finds time to dog Damien's steps, following him to the office at least three times a week (where he's also made some recommendations regarding retention of some of the lower level support staff who strike him as entirely too vulnerable to possible blackmail or extortion), and making sure he's nearby when he's at home. And he does not, ever, retire for the night until Damien has.

[leveraged_buyout]

Privacy was rare up before this, but became downright impossible once Spencer came into the picture. Damien didn't know if the man had the abilities to do his job as the head of security, but he was most definitely the most doggedly annoying hire that his father added to his household. The redneck was everywhere with curt arrogance that annoyed Damien everytime he saw him.

Since he couldn't get rid of him, Damien tried to ignore him. But that was tantamount to trying to ignore a huge white elephant and worked about just as well.

Two weeks of this was Damien's maximum, and when the little shit insisted on setting up cameras in the hall leading to his room, Damien put his foot down. "That is no different from putting them in my room, it's not happening. I forbid it."

[a_very_distinctive]

"'Less you make a habit of whipping it out in the hallway, or wandering down it naked, it's a helluva lot different from your bedroom, boss," Eliot points out mildly enough. "There's a door right there, and once you close it you've got plenty of privacy in there and your en suite, but I need eyes on this hall and this door if I'm s'posed t'be keeping you safe."

[leveraged_buyout]

Damien fumed at the attitude. "You have cameras everywhere! You do not need them to cover the hall when you can see clearly anyone coming in and out of the house!" Taking a deep breath, Damien forced himself to calm down to a more reasonable tone even though it would be wasted on a man like Spencer. "It is superfluous and unnecessary."

[a_very_distinctive]

Eliot gives himself a count of three to make sure he's still just as mild and reasonable as he'd been at the start of this before he answers. "Yeah, we can see everyone who goes in an' out, including all the people who belong here in a day, an' have every reason to be going in an' out. You wanna bet your life that not a single cook or housekeeper or tech flunky or contractor can be blackmailed or bribed t'get at you? 'Cause I don't. So I wanna be able t'make sure that not a single one of those people with perfectly legitimate and valid reasons t'be in the house, but not a single damn reason t'be in this hallway, ever is. An' that the handful that actually have cause t'be here-" The housekeepers who clean his room, the occasional kitchen flunky delivering food- "Are only here when they're meant t'be, doing what they're meant t'be doing."

[leveraged_buyout]

"By your definition, anyone can be suspect of plotting against me." Damien wasn't cutting Spencer any slack with his glare. "Which would include you. Frankly, all of them have been here a lot longer than you have and I trust them." That Damien didn't trust the other man was all but spelled out. "Didn't you already fire all the 'untrustworthy' ones?"

[a_very_distinctive]

"By my definition, most people can be bought for the right price, an' frankly? You don't pay most of 'em enough that the right price'd be that hard t'find or that painful t'pay for one of your rivals." And possibly more to the point, while Damien might have a stray hair up his ass about Eliot in particular, he's not exactly a ray of sunshine in anyone else's life. He's not, at this point in time, the kind of man who inspires intense loyalty in his underlings.

[leveraged_buyout]

Or fear either, if how Spencer was talking back to him was any judge. "And what's your price?" Here Damien tilted his head in a mild gesture of curiosity. If everyone had a price, that meant Spencer did too. Damien wanted to know what would it take to get a man like Spencer to leave. He might be tempted to pay it himself.

[a_very_distinctive]

"Too damn high," he answers, matter of fact and completely unoffended, so if Damien was aiming to get a rise out of him he's failed yet again. "No one's gonna offer me enough t'be worth tanking my professional reputation, or having t'look over my shoulder every day for the rest of my, possibly very damn short, life." He shrugs. "But a whole lotta people are too stupid t'realize that what looks like a hefty payoff ain't worth their life or their livelihood."

[leveraged_buyout]

"Too bad, you might live longer if you left." Damien's mouth was still open to say something when the loud explosion of gunshot drowned out his next words. They ceased as quickly as they started, but they sounded close by enough that it froze Damien in place. "What was that?"

[a_very_distinctive]

"That was my worst god damned nightmare," he snaps, any semblance of easy-going relaxation absolutely wiped out and replaced by the kind of calm, focused intensity most people will never be able to achieve. "Panic room, now!" He takes Damien by the upper arm and propels him forcefully in that direction at the same time that he activates the walkie-talkie at his belt and shifts it up to clip at his lapel so he can keep his hands free.

"Status report, all stations!" he demands, and even as he continues moving with Damien the reports begin to come in. At least they're sticking to their pre-arranged order, so he gets the report from the guards on camera duty first, then each man on duty in order after that. He itches to be on the hunt, find the bastards who are stupid or desperate enough to be testing him this early, and put them in the god damn ground, but getting Damien out of any possible line of fire is the first priority, going after whoever the hell has managed to get past the first line of security comes second to that.

[leveraged_buyout]

Damien struggled against Spencer's hold out of instinct, but there was a genuine concern in his gaze when he listened to the quick back and forth rapport of his organized security coming through the static of the electronic communication. Someone was attacking the house, or, at least, there was immediate danger to his person that was rare in his sheltered life.

"I can walk by myself," he snapped at the same time as yanking his sleeve few from the unforgiving clutch Spencer had on his thousand dollar suit.

"Why don't you go see who is attacking? I can make myself scarce." Damien wanted to know who dared to cause this commotion in his home.

[a_very_distinctive]

"Then do it an' do it fast," Eliot snaps, in between responding to the check ins, noting the one man who's failed to respond, and giving orders on how the remaining security should deploy themselves based on the apparent origin of the shots. He does let go of Damien's arm when he tries to jerk it away... and puts his hand on the back of his shoulder instead, prepared to propel him along if he doesn't move fast enough.

"An' I'll go run down the asshole's dumb enough t'be tryin' this shit as soon as you're safely tucked away behind six inches of steel."

[leveraged_buyout]

Damien wasn't running and refused to no matter how Spencer was shoving him, but he was walking speedily along when he turned the corner send couldn't back up fast enough. Apparently the origin of the gunshot wasn't the only branch of the group that infiltrated the mansion, for right there, between him and the safe room, was another group. Four men, armed to the teeth and looking like they were waiting for him to show up.

And Damien's only protection was one really young looking kid beside him.

"Spencer..." Damien tried to move away but the men had already spotted them and a shout was raised. They were no more than half a hall away and rushing in. Damien was screwed.

[a_very_distinctive]

Eliot's jerking Damien back at almost exactly the same time, hand fisted tight in that expensive-ass suit as he bodily hauls him back and shoves the larger man behind him. There's no doubt that, no matter what Damien may think of his size, there's nothing but solid muscle under his suit. He's already got a gun in his free hand and he doesn't take his eyes off the corner, knowing it's only moments before the first intruder comes round it.

"Get your ass through the first door on the left, it's a solid core door that locks from the inside, and the furniture's heavy as hell," he orders, the words coming out rapid-fire and just loud enough for Damien to hear them. "Lock it, barricade it, and don't open it for anyone but me. Now go!" And then he shoves his gun into Damien's hand, gives him a shove, and lets go before producing another gun from somewhere under his suit (the paddle holster at the small of his back. And he has three more and a handful of knives besides)... and heading for the corner at a run. Because waiting for the bastards just gives them the advantage.

Three things happen as he rounds the corner: he hits his knees, sliding low on the polished floor to come at them from an unexpected angle, he opens fire, every bullet precisely aimed, and so do the other guys... mostly wildly off target as his assault takes them completely by surprise. And through it all he's still listening intently to make sure Damien's following his orders and getting the hell out of the line of fire, because if there's this many men here, who hadn't shown up on the security feeds, then there's probably more.

[leveraged_buyout]

Damien thought for half a thought that Spencer was going to die, then grabbed the gun and did exactly as he was instructed, mainly because he had little other options at the moment. He ran back the way they came, for a bond second turning towards the right in his hurry door before veering back towards the left one. It took him to one of the many sitting rooms that was more there for decor than use, but like Spencer said, had plenty of heavy furniture.

Damien wasted no time in barricading the door by pushing over a couch, much too slow for his comfort, but the piece was large. The strangest memory of having slept on it on a summer afternoon flashed through his mind just before it shattered with the sound of gunfire.

Was Spencer killed already? He shoved harder at the piece, just in time to get it in place before the first round of fire stopped. Dammit, he knew Spencer was an indication his father wanted to make a move. Exhausted, Damien leaned against the couch clutching the gun in his hand and wondering how long would it take for those guys to get through the door to him.

Meanwhile the firefight had alerted both security and intruders alike, and there was a rush from both sides towards where the action was. There were definitely more intruders, a lot more.

[a_very_distinctive]

The first four go down remarkably easily, given how heavily armed and, theoretically, well-prepared their assault was. But Eliot's fucked up their play-book with his attack, and right now he's not concerned with taking prisoners and getting information--there are clearly plenty of other options for that still running around the place--just making sure these fuckers don't get anywhere near Damien. So every last one of them hits the floor with a bullet through his head or his heart, and Eliot's already giving orders for redeployment and back-up as he gets back to his feet.

He can hear more booted feet on the polished floor, and since he knows exactly where his--surviving--guys are that means these aren't his. Not the ones close enough to hear, anyway. He takes a gun off one of the bodies, rather than drawing one of his own, and jogs past the bodies, careful not to step in the spreading pools of blood. He doesn't want to leave footprints as he slips into another small sitting room, muting his walkie-talkie and leaving the door slightly ajar so he can keep an eye on the hall as he waits.

It doesn't take long, and as he watches another group of heavily armed intruders emerge from the direction of the kitchens he realizes that his own men aren't likely to be here in time to do more than mop up the damn mess. He doesn't have time for more than a brief flash of frustration at that, though. This group's more cautious, they can see the bodies already in the hall and they're talking too quietly for him to hear, though he can see the hand signs they're using, which is enough to let him know when they're all in view, no one still waiting in reserve around the corner. That's his cue, and he takes careful aim through the crack in the door--and jesus, you'd think the fuckers would be paying more attention--and takes out not the leader, but the last man in the line. He doesn't want anyone slipping away.

He manages to put a bullet through two more thick skulls before return fire forces him back from the door with a curse and a sharp flash of pain as a bullet rips through his biceps. He doesn't bother running, and he definitely doesn't bother waiting, the second the gunfire stops he's through the door, crouched low as he runs and barrels straight into the guy unlucky enough to be in the lead. The knife he's let drop from its forearm sheath into his left hand finds its target unerringly, despite the blood running down his arm and already dripping off his fingers, and he's already moving for the next man before the first body hits the floor.

From there it's just a matter of keeping one body between himself and his soon to be next target, and by the time his own men come barreling in from two directions there are four more bodies leaking assorted fluids onto the expensive floor and Eliot's holding the fourth with a shattered arm pulled up tight behind his back and his broken nose pressed into the wall.

He doesn't tell anyone where Moreau Junior is, and makes a point of walking past the room he's barricaded himself into, issuing orders loudly about clearing the house room by room, checking the perimeter and the security tapes, before he'll tell anyone where the boss is. Hopefully the kid's smart enough and not too damn spoiled to take the hint and stay out of sight until Eliot's made absolutely sure no one else is going to crawl out of the woodwork and try to put a bullet in his head.

[leveraged_buyout]

That period of silence after the original gunfire was nerve-wracking, and the sudden explosion of the second series of them nearly had Damien dropping his gun. He knew how to shoot with one, been to gun training ever since he could hold one, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with them. That was why they had hired guys to do the shooting for them.

He strained to hear anything from where he was, and it seemed like there was a fight going on not far from where he hid. Then came footsteps, a lot of them, and someone was issuing orders although it was too muffled to hear who. Was that his own men or the enemy? How many of them were there, and what for? They didn't shoot him on sight, although Spencer had shoved him away quickly enough that they might not have had the chance to begin with.

Perhaps Spencer knew his job after all, rest in peace to him. Damien told the guy he would live longer if he left, he just didn't expect it to be this short if he didn't.

[a_very_distinctive]

It takes nearly an hour before he's satisfied that the house is, in fact, secure. An hour of clearing it room by room then walking the perimeter, checking the security tapes to identify the intruders point of entry (by identifying which cameras had been run on a loop) and their inside man (who joins the attackers in lockdown, all waiting for Eliot's personal attention later). By the time Eliot finally makes his way back towards Damien's hiding place a cleanup crew has arrived and the bodies, at least, are gone from the hallway, though the blood isn't yet.

"Damien!" He stands to the side and raps sharply on the door, just in case Damien's jumpy enough to put a bullet through it on reflex. "All's clear, got the place buttoned up tight again."

[leveraged_buyout]

Damien had gone from tense and reckless to tense, reckless, and bored as time dragged on. It had quieted down after the initial fight and that had been half an hour ago, just enough for the adrenaline of the moment to begin it's initial crash.

He sat where he was, debating to attempt going out or remain longer in place, and that was a debate that lasted fifteen minutes in itself. He was still in the midst of the debate when the knock came, and he rapidly pointed the gun towards the door.

In hindsight, his enemies wouldn't knock if they knew where he was.

The gruff annoying accented voice startled him more than the familiar use of his name did, mainly because he had been convinced the man was already dead. "...Spencer?" He looked over the edge of the couch as if he could somehow see the person on the other side of the door. "Is that you?"

[a_very_distinctive]

"In the flesh, man." Yeah, sue him, he's being uncharacteristically (so far) informal, but he's tired, pissed, and suffering not inconsiderable blood loss, and he'd really just like to get this all wrapped the hell up. He also does realize Damien's probably spent at least part of the last hour scared shitless and a lot of the rest of it confused, frustrated, angry and worried. Bored doesn't occur to him. "Sorry it took so long t'get back to you, I had to be sure the place was secure first."