across the sea has not been forgotten! that is being finished up soon as it's also nearing the last few chapters. this series will not follow the typical flow of a multi-chapter fic; it will flow in separate one-shots that follow the plotline but will not follow a specific timeline (i.e. from this morning to tonight. it will go something like: today to next week) so long as the events are chronologically ordered and develop the characters and plot. hope this is understandable! ALSO I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS AS MUCH AS I DO.
i. a fire in her soul; in which Killian Jones meet her.
He wishes he could tell the story differently of how they first meet, but she literally punches him across the face, a rather firm and strong jab to his cheek, leaving him with a bleeding split lip and bruising skin.
Of all things, he doesn't expect there to be another person like him out there, the one that were used as testing subjects to enhanced senses and abilities; strength, speed, sense, smell, hearing, even - oddly enough - taste. Long story short, not enough time to tell really, is they were child subjects.
He'd be lying if he said she's not fierce and courageous - the abrupt punch to his face says otherwise, also, it's a really bad assumption and quick judgement of who he is.
Albeit he'd love to talk with her, he swipes his hand across his bleeding lip and disappears before he can do something rash (well that's his reasoning, though it's actually because his target just stood up and Killian dropped his knife earlier thanks to her).
It's not the most pathetic move he's made, though a little shameful he's ducked for cover and is trying to catch his breath and stop the quiet thudding in his brain thanks to the punch. His rival, or whatever she really is, is a vigilant one, slipping between the crowd in the party and disappearing off into god knows where. Meanwhile, he's gotten blood on his nice suit (damn it, he paid a lot for this thing), and he's a wanted man who's been seen by his target.
Killian pulls at the cuffs of his shirt, cleaning himself up as well as he can before slithering his way back into the crowd without seeming to conspicuous, though he's sure that it's a mocking attempt. For one, he's not going to leave this place without killing him, but he's aware he also won't get out of his unscathed without a few bruises and cuts; that job has already been handed over to Ms. Blonde Death Punch.
It's easy to drift through the crowd of fancily dressed men and women, and some may question his taste in women given he doesn't pay a single drop of attention to any of their rather revealing choices of clothing, but he has a more important job, and that's to eliminate one of the biggest political figures up on the American embassy who's been ripping off tax rates and pulling out thousands to millions of dollars for his own personal use.
No surprise he owns a literal gigantic mansion and throws grand celebrations for no particular, or reasonable reason.
Idly mingling around gets him nowhere, but mingling around toward him is getting him somewhere.
"If I were you I wouldn't aim for now because he's calling in his security guards to search for you."
Ducking his head, his eyes catch the blonde hair he saw earlier, hovering near his shoulder. She's a questionable figure, but she seems to know his purpose of attendance at this party, all while she has her warm breath hitting the back of his neck, warning him about the circumstances he's found himself under.
Whether he should wonder if she has the same interest as him or not, is an entirely different question - which he hopes he can find the answer to soon. Asking isn't in his favour, he doesn't have the interest to communicate with her yet, despite the beauty he's sure of after a few glances and lingering stares. He shoves that thought out of his mind (or to the back of his memory), before he straightens his posture a little bit, clenches his jaw and lets his eyes scan the vicinity of any security guards after his head.
By the time he turns around, she's gone, blended in with the crowd again.
He debates between retreating for the night or eliminating his mark, but one outweighs the other with a simple reason: he is not leaving without knowing who she is.
Eliminating his mark it is.
There is nothing better than acting so convincingly that people are threateningly sweet, but there is perhaps one thing that exceeds that feeling, and it's the thrill of removing a corrupted man from the society he lives in, thus squashing another bug, creating one of the country's most largest political revelations.
He thinks he's smart, actually, believing he's created intuitive passwords to every site he's accessed. Really, who thinks '123456seven' is a password that will protect an account? Surely he could have made a more valiant attempt at trying to lock out any hackers, but that doesn't work against Killian. The only reason he's this capable at tracking his targets, high and low, is because of his heavy understanding in technology.
He's sort of a vigilante hacker.
Okay, he is a vigilante hacker...by night.
Regular, functioning, working human being by day.
And the best part about it all is that he works for no one but himself.
That's the catch here; hackers, they inherently trust no one, including each other. Killian Jones works best alone, at least during his night duties. In the morning, he's a regular employee of a company that works on keeping other major corporations data safe, keeping their networks clean of any infiltrating from enemy hacker groups seeking sensitive data, or if they desire to shut down and infect networks to the point of not being able to stand back up.
His boss is kind and a nice guy, as is the rest of the people he works closely with, but because of his job at night, it forces him out of a lot of social situations. Though, this doesn't go to say that he doesn't go out, because he does - spends a lot of his time out by the closest pier or a bar his childhood friend owns, though. Killian can't always cancel on plans he has with his co-workers, so he always tends to balance his different responsibilities in ways that benefit him the best.
Anyways, he's wasted too much time standing around tonight.
Subconsciously, his eyes are looking for more than just his mark, because every sight of blonde hair and a black dress, which is quite typical and seen everywhere, snatches his attention.
He'd love to use his super ability of hearing to tune in on any voices that are speaking about him, but there's too much chatter surrounding him in the ballroom, there's no way he'll be able to do that. After precisely five minutes (what a nice watch he's wearing), he begins his plan to strike.
Really, exploiting all of this man's personal details could have been enough to ruin his entire career, his life, but seeing that on the news isn't enough. Someone like him...well, he deserves punishment, and in this case, it's death.
Unfortunately, of all things to happen, he ends the night with the worst possible outcome. Well, he's exaggerating it, really, since it's not the actual worst outcome. Although his objective has been completed by another, and he has a strong sense of it being Ms. Blonde Death Punch, he's disappointed that he'd not been able to kill the man himself. He must applaud for her though, the clean job she's done with his execution, especially when it comes to their powers.
Staring down at a slumped body across his couch, he can't help but bark out some laughter, speeding out of the room and out the mansion before anyone can deem him as the murderer (his security guards are sloppy at the job, jeez). This time, he can say he isn't the one who killed, but rather the woman who'd he'd been hardly acquainted with. At least, that's the bold, but fairly accurate assumption he's making tonight.
Oh, how he's going to have fun to unveil her identity and explore online.
All he needs is a name, her name, and he'll be able to uncover everything about her in mere minutes. That's what he's good at in the first place, being a secret "hero," all while being the one who can type away at a keyboard and stare at a computer screen as an incognito vigilante hacker who knows his ways around every sort of possible network possible.
Social media is easy to break apart nowadays, it's an easy source to behind the scenes. Same with e-mails, text messages, and phone calls. Killian Jones has access to all of these.
"Better luck next time."
The voice doesn't catch him off guard, but when he turns his head to look at her, she's got a smirk plastered across her face, indication of her victory, her own pride. Killian escapes with a scoff, shaking his head and shrugging.
"Should someone find him there, I wasn't the actual one who committed the crime."
"Eh, right, but those security guards suspected you." And she's got a hell of a point. "Anyways, can't stay for long, not before someone discovers him dead."
"Oh? No introductions, darling?"
"You really expect me to give you my name?" The mysterious woman laughs, approaching him, only to brush past his shoulders and pat him there. "I told you, better luck next time."
She's got fire in her soul, this one, and he is more than intrigued. One could possibly think he's completely besotted with her unknown talent, but whether she punched him earlier for mistaking his identity or because she wanted to get this kill, he'll never know until she tells him. And from the way she acts, mighty and strong with one lovely gumption, he'll not be getting many answers from her.
"Also, sorry for punching you in the face, that was rude of me."
"Ah, a lie right there - I daresay you enjoyed punching me in the face, love," he says, turning around to her back at him.
She shoots a look at him quickly over her shoulder, something that makes his own lips unwillingly curl into a smile.
"Sorry for lying, then."
Aye, she's got a fire in her soul, burning brightly but only letting the smart see her burn bright.