Disclaimer: I do not own either the character Killian Jones, nor the location of Storybrook, I'm simply borrowing them for my story.
Looking around himself in annoyance, Killian Jones reassessed his location within the town of Storybrook. He had been there a few days, but the layout of the streets and the similarity of the buildings were playing havoc with his sense of direction. The very fact that anything could impede his impeccable navigation skills was a source of irritation all on its own, but add that to his discomfort with finding himself in such a strange realm at all, and his mood could not even remotely be considered good.
Okay, he had to admit that it wasn't entirely bad, the sale of a few of his trinkets had given him a decent amount of spending money until he could figure out his employment options, and he was finally in a position to exact revenge upon a certain crocodile. The thought almost, almost made him smile, but at that moment he realized that he had been walking in the wrong direction. He spun on his heel and collided with a young woman.
She stumbled hard against him, and he automatically grabbed her shoulders to stop her from falling. There was a prolonged silence while she looked curiously at his hook pressed carefully against her right shoulder, and Killian withdrew his hands hastily.
He smiled charmingly. "I apologize, milady, I did not realize that you were behind me."
She pushed her wild auburn hair out of her face and looked at the ground shyly. "That's okay, I wasn't watching." She glanced back at him without meeting his eyes and continued on her way.
Killian watched her go, he had yet to meet anyone shy in this strange place; they were outgoing, eccentric, or, in some cases, downright hostile, but all had been confident and forward. He shook his head, there was no reason to be surprised, people were still people and each has their own personality quirks. Besides, he had encountered many people in his lifetime that refused to meet his eyes.
Yet, watching her walk away… Her posture, her stride, and the easy pace she adopted, all screamed confidence, completely at odds with the person he had run into; it made him pause, and something, something about the situation made him reach for his money purse. He cursed when he found it missing, only moments before he remembered that it had been replaced by the leather wallet in his back pocket. It was less than a second later that he discovered that his wallet was, indeed, not there.
Oh, yes, the wench was good. He clenched his teeth against the growl that threatened to be made vocal, and took off after her. She wasn't in a hurry, and he caught up to her easily. He grabbed her arm and spun her around violently, and she cried out in fear, trying feebly to pull away. He couldn't see her downturned eyes, but he could see the sideways way she watched his hook. Her hair covered her face and she trembled against his hand that still gripped her arm hard enough to bruise.
"I think you have something of mine." He snarled.
She shook her head vigorously and shrank back as far as was possible.
Damned, woman, she was making this worse for herself, but he couldn't help but feel a bit of gratification at her apparent fear. It gave him a power over her that can't be quantified; it was a power that he was accustomed to, a pirate's success has a lot to do with terror that they are able to invoke in others, after all.
She obviously had no interest in digging the wallet out herself, nor did he think that she would be very successful if she tried, considering her state, but he gave her another chance. He needed his good hand free so he snagged her belt loop with his hook to keep her from running, and then used his hand to grip her chin forcing her to look into his face.
He growled when she continued to avert her eyes. "If you do not hand over what is mine, I will go after it myself." She jerked away as if she had been burned, leaning hard against the belt loop that kept her tethered to him. The hard motion in conjunction with the sharp point of the hook rubbing abruptly against the denim, broke the loop, and she stumbled backward barely remaining on her feet, she took the opportunity to bolt into a nearby alleyway.
Killian was done with this game, he stalked after her, seething, if he had been aboard his ship he might have killed her, but that was not the case, he was in Storybrook where he needed to be on his best behavior. He nearly laughed with glee when he saw that she had led them down a dead end, she was effectively trapped.
The young woman cowered against the wooden fence blocking her exit, downcast eyes barely visible through the wild locks of her hair, and something about her small, frightened frame made him sigh. She was obviously not a brave soul, if she had stolen from him, it was probably out of necessity.
He pushed his anger aside, forcing his voice back to civility. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, but I really must have what is mine." He approached her slowly. "Come on, now, it will be better for both of us if you just hand it over."
For the first time she looked up at him, the expression in that gaze was like a bucket of ice water, so different it was from the distress she had displayed. Not an ounce of fear reached her eyes; they were calculating, determined, and angry, but not afraid. She straightened to her full height, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand while she withdrew his wallet with the other.
Her dark eyes burned into him as she approached. Every bit of her feigned terror long gone, she shoved the wallet hard against his chest and waited for him to take it before she stepped past him.
"Wait?" The whole situation was confusing and Killian caught her left wrist with his hook. In one smooth motion, she had knocked herself free and twisted his arm behind his back, applying uncomfortable amounts of pressure.
"You broke the rules of the game." Her words dripped with disdain, and she punctuated her point by throwing a knife, the point of which, buried itself deep into the six foot fence. She released him with a shove, though the push failed to move him any, and headed back toward the fence.
With Herculean effort, he restrained his desire to knock her senseless. "What rules?" He asked, certain that this was not a game that he wanted to be playing at all.
Using her foot for leverage, the crazy woman yanked the knife loose from the fence. "You were supposed to kill me." She spoke dispassionately, without inflection, moments before backing a few paces from the fence. Two sprinted strides and she was scaling the fence as easily as a cat, disappearing into the space beyond.
Feeling stunned, Killian gave himself a moment to process what had just happened. He really, really hated this world. Not only did he have to figure out how to navigate a place that was choked with tall building, and avoid getting run over by those moving metal containers called cars, he had to watch out for suicidal game players. He considered that for a moment and amended his assessment to homicidal game players.
That tiger was looking for dangerous prey.