A/N - This story has been in my head for several weeks now and I thought, might as well finally write it! This is the first fanfic that I've ever shared, so please, be gentle! But also, I'd love to hear any and all thoughts!
Chapter One - Deception
Small, dusty steps reverberated off every wall, a single shadow shrinking and growing among the various poles, risers, and signs lining the path. She sighed, counting her steps as she went. That was how she made it to her destination every day. That was how she forced her mind to cease into the shallows of a broken rhythm instead of diving directly into darkness.
Two-hundred twenty-three, two hundred twenty-four, two hundred twenty-five...
This particular stretch of the pier was usually quiet; a stagnant patch of boats swooshing, tiny lights stretched along like fireflies stuck in place were usually what greeted her. After all, this was her parents' side of the pier. Every person that knew what was good for them stayed away to avoid the onslaught of police questioning whenever anyone did seem to wander too far in. But tonight, it was different. She knew as soon as she saw him that this was not going to be a typical delivery. Forcing a heavy breath, she marked her arrival with a furious huff in his direction.
Two hundred thirty-seven, two-hundred thirty-eight...
"Aye, love. Come to collect the treasure? Or is it finally me you're after?" A snake-like smirk crossed the man's features, expelling his tongue over his front teeth and licking in his lips in what he must have thought was a smooth gesture.
"Can it, Jones." She spat, angling her body so she could get a better view of the small cargo ship breaching the orange and yellow hues radiating from each lamp post. "I thought it was only going to be me tonight."
"Are you afraid Mommy and Daddy are demoting you?"
"Nope. Would be a blessing if they did, but you've fucked up so many times they'd never let me go now," her throat thickened as she said it, the very truth of the statement almost numbing her entirely.
"Time to prove it. Ready for this, Swan?" His dark eyes connected with hers for a moment, and she wished so hard his tacky leather trench coat would swallow him and his greasy hair whole. But even the dead skin of an animal would know better. He was a gutter rat - the coat, at least, would surely have some sense of class.
"Don't call me that. And what should I be ready for? This is a normal delivery. Get the merchandise, get out. Quick and easy."
The laugh that ripped from his throat made her hair stand on end. She'd rarely heard such laughs in her life, but that deep, guttural, and raw noise erupting like a sick howl in the moonlight coming from her unwanted companion only meant that she was bound to meet an unforeseen fate.
"Oh, Emma. Did they not tell you? We're stealing this one for ourselves. This one belongs to the Mills. I intercepted their contact myself to change the final destination," he smirked, glossy black eyes glinting wildly as he chuckled proudly of his deception.
"What?" She whipped her head, wavy blonde hair fraying out of frame around her. Narrowed eyes pinned the man where he stood. "You're joking." The glare in her eyes was a threat, no longer a warning.
"'Fraid not," he nearly whispered, realizing that even with his prominent muscles, Emma was superior to him in skill and experience, though he'd never admit as much, so it was best to appease her as long as she was in control.
Emma's heart dropped straight to her feet, reminding her of a penny thrown to seek the bottom of the deepest well. Her body then went rigid, the beating of a frantic heart bursting through her ears as a menacing wave of nausea tore through a quivering abdomen.
She had no idea why her parents would have led her into this. They weren't good people, of that much she knew for sure. But they had never deliberately put her into situations that could likely get her killed. A wrong deal had happened every now and again, luckily her quick wit and bravado kept her on the winning side. Emma Swan was usually the one sent to clean up the messes of others, sending waves of fear through anyone she felt had crossed her. She was rarely, if ever, the cause of any mess. Never had she imagined her own flesh and blood would send her into what would no doubt be a fool's errand.
The Mills, as much her own blood boiled over the mere thought of the pompous, sanctimonious family, kept their business dealings secure and clean of any trace of their fingerprints. They were smart, and irritatingly so, which made Emma's blood boil even more because after all these years, she actually respected them in a sick, torturous way. It only made what she was going to have to do even harder. Even after ten years of this, she'd never laid a hand on anyone she could effectively categorize as innocent. Tonight, she would have to act on survival only, leaving her thirst for morbid justice (and if she were completely honest, vengeance, too) behind. The poor souls now a mere fifty feet away from her had no idea they were currently on their last breath.
-xxx-
"Oh, darling, just go and humor your father already, will you?"
"Why can't Daddy get someone else to go?"
"Regina, please. It is because you are the most skilled, and this is a very important night. You know how long he's been planning this. He's worked so hard to ensure the safety of this town. It's not his fault his flight didn't leave in time to be here. Now, stop fussing and be a good daughter."
Dark chocolate eyes rolled beneath a dramatically arched brow, half-amused, half-irritated at being spoken to like a screaming toddler. That was her mother, though. Cora always had a way of being too gentle with her admonishment to the point that Regina often felt she were about to be offered a bottle and bedtime story of evil queens and runaway princesses.
"Fine. Where exactly am I supposed to go?" Regina refrained from huffing it out. Her mother was a warrior of manners.
"The docks south of the city park. You know the one your father kept that rusty bucket he called a yacht?" Cora and Regina both snickered at the memory. Henry Mills was a proud man, but his taste was always humble. That boat had been a source of animosity between him and his wife, who hated the rough treatment the water's sway on her stomach and had thrown up over the side of it far too many times to count, and repeatedly commented that the wretched thing would collapse if even a small fly landed on a vulnerable spot. Regina, on the other hand, adored it as her father did. She could still taste the fresh wind rushing against her face as she watched the vast fathom of blue crash against the hull beneath her. The day her father returned home to say he sold it, Regina had all but thrown herself out the window to convince him to get it back.
"The Queen of Hearts," Regina smiled softly, remembering the silly name her father had given the old vessel. Strands of dark hair cut into her vision before she shook them away, sighing, "I couldn't forget it if I tried."
"Yes, well, you did have a strange sentimental attachment to that abhorrent thing. Well, off you go, then. You needn't check in tonight, dear. I trust everything to go well."
"Yes, mother."
Bidding her mother goodbye with a kiss to the cheek, she walked past the massive and intricately carved mahogany door that guarded the front of the monumental Mills mansion and stepped into the brisk air of the night.
-xxx-
"What exactly are we supposed to do? Just take everything and run?" Emma pondered, mostly to herself, as Jones wasn't the most competent companion on a mission like this. Emma always worked with a plan. Always. Jones was more of a make-it-up-as-you-go kind of guy. But Emma hadn't any time to prepare for this. Was this a sick test to prove her worth? Hadn't she proved it enough already?
"If everything plays out the way it should, we won't have to do anything but accept the crates, sign off and pay, then go." Jones offered, unconvincingly, considering his eyes never met hers.
"Yeah, and when does anything play out as it should when you're involved?" She asked, eyes flaring at the cocky moron that was likely to get her killed.
"Quiet, love. They might hear you," he put his finger to his lips and pointed at the men now approaching them.
Rolling her eyes and shuffling forward to get a better look at the unfamiliar men, Emma reached her right arm behind her back and kept it hovered over the gun she had hidden in the back of her jeans and underneath her rusty red leather jacket. Her usual tank tops were not quite enough to conceal it, so she wore that jacket everywhere she went. A girl can never be too careful in her line of work, if you could call it that.
"Evening, gentlemen!" Jones called out as the distance between the two parties drew closer.
They said nothing, merely scanning over Jones and Emma, their surroundings, and appearing to contemplate if they should cut and run, or continue as planned.
They went with the latter.
"I was under instruction to port here, was it you I spoke to?" One of the men finally spoke up. They were all wearing black suits with white vest and white ties, looking as though they had just come from an elaborate black and white party.
"Aye, that's me. Sorry about the last-minute change. Word is the police are watching the docks south of here," Jones took a few steps, hand extended towards the other man, "I'm Jones. This here is Swan."
Emma scowled, resisting every urge to knock Jones unconscious. She changed her last name deliberately so she wouldn't constantly be associated with her parents, but he seemed to be insistent on making that a moot point.
"Midas. It's nice to meet you both," the man shook Jones' proffered hand and smiled at Emma. Not one of the usual seedy smiles Emma was used to seeing from these types, no, but a genuine, kind, tooth-heavy smile. She groaned internally, hoping Jones would be right for once. He usually had a habit of leaving lifeless bodies trailing behind him wherever he went.
"Would you like us to begin unloading now? We were assured you'd provide payment after all inventory is accounted for."
Jones nodded, "We'll wait here."
With that, the group of men, Midas leading in the front, turned around to start the task of moving the crates onto the pier.
Emma moved closer to him, leaning far too closely to his ear than she would have liked, and whispered, "What kind of inventory, exactly, are we getting here?"
"A whole lotta guns, love."
"Guns? The Mills don't have any market in guns. They're the saints of organized crime, remember? Nonviolent and sober and all that. What the hell is going on here? Why are they getting a whole lotta guns?"
"It's true. They don't have a market in guns. Their plan was to destroy them to prevent them from landing in, say, our hands, according to your father's informant. Aren't you tired of their goody-goody act? They're responsible for just as many body bags as the rest of us. Time to start taking for ourselves now, don't you think?"
No, Emma thought. She honestly hated the gun trade her parents continually demanded to take part in. She shivered at the thought of how many innocents had been killed due in part to her parents' relentless ability to compartmentalize the lives of unknown others versus those close to them, which was very small in number. She had actually refused to watch over deals and trades involving illegal firearms time and time again. Which certainly explained why she hadn't been informed of her true purpose on the pier tonight.
-xxx-
Regina's sensible but stylishly heeled combat boots clicked on the wooden boards. She had already been pacing back and forth for thirty minutes, but the ship she was waiting for hadn't arrived yet. She was told they would arrive at 8:00, which she was relieved at first when she made it a few minutes late to see she wasn't the only one behind schedule. Now, however, she was beginning to worry.
Click, click, click. Turn. Click, click, click. She scanned the area again, but nothing came into view from any direction on the water.
What if…
A solid mass formed in her throat. Of course. This had the Nolans written all over it.
Against her better judgement, she darted off to the deserted area she had parked her car, diving gracefully into her black Mercedes Benz, and sped off in the direction of the dreaded, informally named, Nolan's Pier.
This is the stupidest thing I may have ever done, she thought, almost out loud. Truth be told, she'd do just about any stupid thing for her father. I'll fix this, Daddy.
-xxx-
Once the crates had been unloaded from the ship, checked for contents, and signed off of the manifest Midas had provided Jones, and put into the back of an unmarked trailer Jones had attached to the back of his oversized truck, Emma let go of the breath she felt she had been holding since the entire encounter had begun. Based on the manifest, she calculated that there were close to a quarter-million dollars worth of illegal firearms alone, and about a hundred thousand of explosives. Dread filled her to her very core at the thought of these being put into the hands of inexperienced and unstable individuals. Part of her wanted to tell Midas what was really happening, but knew she'd wind up dead if she confessed to their scam, and not by his hand, but by Jones. Or worse, her own parents.
Jones and Emma bid the men farewell, sending them off with their briefcases each containing a small fortune, and began walking back to the truck with Jones discussing their next step.
"Whoa, no. I'm going home now. My job was to oversee, make sure the transaction went smoothly. That's it, and you know it," the words coming out of Emma's mouth were almost shrill with frustration. She had enough to do with this entire ordeal; she was not going to stick around any longer than she had to.
"Trust me, I know your highness thinks you're done here. But you know what, Swan?" he hissed at her, "I'm tired of you constantly taking the credit for how hard I work for the Nolans. Your parents think you're all sugar and spice and shit, but not anymore. This one is mine. So now, I'm going to steal your thunder. Say goodnight, love," he grabbed her arm and wrenched her sideways, slamming her into the side of the truck.
Gasping for the air that had just been knocked out of her, she didn't hear the patter of footsteps echoing nearby, and before she could fully catch her breath, a sharp, cold sensation to the side of her face made her drop to her knees. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Jones lifted his gun once more and hit her head again with unimaginable force. Emma fell completely over that time, flat on her back, chest heaving, and eyes blurring over as a large shadow entered her vision - a person, perhaps - and then, finally, everything faded into darkness.
-xxx-
Moving as swiftly as she could, Regina had no idea what she was going to do when she finally arrived to where she was desperately headed. Thanks to a loud crack splitting the air, she stopped, and knew exactly her plan of action. At the sight in front of her - a flash of blonde hair and a red jacket crumpling to the ground - she sprung into action without further contemplation.
Pulling her gun quicker than the man before her could raise his, she approached him, barrel staring him down between the eyes, and with all the confidence she could muster, Regina opened her mouth to speak.
"Raise your weapon and I won't hesitate to pull the trigger," at her words, he lowered his gun down to his hip, "Good. Now, do you work for the Nolans?"
The man ran his fingers over his sorry excuse for a beard, and looked Regina up and down before deciding to respond. "Well, well, well. If it isn't princess Mills. Welcome to my party. It seems to me, though, you've forgotten one very important thing."
"And what would that be?"
"You haven't taken the safety off your gun, princess," he began to raise his arm up, attempting to get an aim on her. Before he could completely get a good shot, two unbearably loud shots rang beside his ears, causing him to drop the gun and bend down in pain, covering his ears with his now empty hands.
"It seems to me you've forgotten that a Glock doesn't have a safety, moron. Answer the question, or I will show you how much pain a princess can inflict on the likes of you." Regina was shouting now, making sure the inevitable ringing in his ears wouldn't drown out her voice.
His eyes blackened instantly, his deranged mind awakening with glee at such a challenge, and from none other than Regina Mills herself.
"You never know, love. I might like it," he sneered.
"Who are you, then?" She countered, ignoring what was probably his idea of a come-on.
"If I'm not telling you that I work for the Nolans, what makes you think I'd actually give you my name? It's a good thing you're pretty 'cause you're not very smart."
Ignoring his vile comments once again, she smiled at him and let out a low, ironic chuckle. "You just told me who you work for, idiot. It's a shame your pretty-boy eyeliner seems to be weighing down your brain. Hard to think clearly, is it?"
"Have you met Emma here? She was always pretty sure of herself too. Doesn't look like she's fighting too hard now, does it? Maybe if you women stopped asking so many questions, you'd see what's right in front of you," his eyes moved past her, "or in your case, what's right behind you."
Just as Regina turned to follow his gaze, she felt a swift blow catch the back of her head and, just like Emma, went down to her knees. She raised her gun to the light-haired main that blurred around her now, shooting off a few lazy rounds before losing consciousness completely and falling to the ground with a dull thud.
"Damn, I think that bitch got me. Right there, see?"
Inspecting his new arrival's arm, Jones patted him on the back, smiling and confirming, "She sure did. Just a flesh wound, though. Don't worry, Robin. These bitches will get what's coming to them. It's time we show the Nolans and the Mills they've been treating us like lap dogs for long enough. Let's go dispatch the witnesses on the ship. And then, we'll have some fun."
