A sharp kick to his ribs woke him.
A cry rose in Killian's chest, getting lodged somewhere in his throat as his eyes flew open. He had no idea how much time had passed. He was lying on his side, his back to the wall of his cell. At some point he remembered closing his eyes, and he must have succumbed to unconsciousness. And still, there was no way to tell how much time had passed. Killian was beginning to hate how disorienting that was.
Another kick struck his injured ribs and Killian curled in a little, clenching his teeth to bite back a groan, both arms moving in an attempt to protect the bruised or broken ribs. He glared up to find two men standing before him.
Killian paused, eyeing them. Both wore expressions between boredom and distaste.
And just behind them, Killian saw it.
The cell bars were gone.
As he felt the phantom of his heart pick up in speed at the possibility of getting out of here, another sharp kick, this time to his shoulder knocked him back into the wall, making him growl.
"Get up." said the man, eyes narrowed at Killian. "Lord Hades would like to have a word."
Lord Hades.
These men must be his bloody servants.
And by the way he emphasized word, Killian had a feeling there would be very few words involved.
Killian's eyes flicked to the lack of the cell bars.
Then back to the men.
He's taken down far more imposing men in his life.
When the man reared for another kick, Killian flinched back a little, holding up his good hand, the skin pulling painfully where it had been burned, and he hissed.
"Oi, all right," he said before the man could strike him. Killian stood carefully, mindful of his injuries, but took the time to gage the men.
The man who spoke looked like some sort of street thug. The way he held himself suggested he relied on his physical strength over any kind of strategy. The other man was quiet, smaller than the first man, looking like he'd never seen any sort of riches in his life, and nothing about him promised a good fighter.
Killian inwardly smiled a grin that Hook wore nearly all the time.
When he took his time standing, the first man let out an annoyed huff, and grabbed his arm, forcing him upright, and Killian let himself grunt, stumbling forward more than he needed to. If these men thought he was more injured than he was, he'd have an element of surprise.
The second man grabbed his other arm, and they began roughly leading him out of the cell. Killain tripped down the last step on purpose, letting his weight fall, and the men had to shift to catch him.
Killian's eyes flashed.
Using the distraction, Killian lashed out with his left elbow, easily moving it in the smaller man's slack grip, connecting with his nose. The man howled, falling back into the wall behind him.
Killian swiped his hook through the air, but the thug wasn't as easily overpowered. The man caught Killian by his left forearm, stopping it before his hook dealt any damage. But Killian only let that smile out and kicked him in the chest, snapping a rib in the man's torso. The man fell back, and Killain doubled over with a groan, the action tearing at his own ribs. He stumbled a little into the wall, catching himself.
The second man was whimpering on the ground, and Killian had been perfectly on point: the man seemed to not have been a fighter at any stage of his life or afterlife. Hades must have the slimmest of pickings for guards.
The thug growled and shot off the ground, but not before Killian's boot caught him in the temple.
The man went down and stayed down.
Killian breathed hard, lifting his head to the newfound escape opportunity.
The ghost of his heart pounded.
Without wasting time, Killian ran to his right, hoping against hope that he chose the right direction to get out of here; he didn't exactly want to think about what would happen if Hades caught him.
He ran along the stone floor, coming to another stone tunnel, and he hesitated for a moment, breath caught in his chest, looking down both dark directions, feeling his instinct take him to the right.
Torches dimly lit the pathway, empty and silent except for his boots on the stone floor.
The tunnel seemed to go on forever, and he ran until his chest burned and breath scraped against his throat.
But, suddenly…
He saw it.
The darkness was lifting.
Every step seemed to ease the darkness, make the air a little easier to breathe.
It wasn't until he grew closer that he recognized the light.
Daylight.
He was underground, then.
And he's just found the way out.
He felt himself smile, even as broken, exhausted breaths still escaped him, tiredness bleeding through his entire being.
Killian pushed himself to run faster.
The daylight was strong now, and Killian spotted a cave wall ahead of him, making him stutter in his step a little. The daylight shone down brightly, illuminating the dead end easily.
Killian slowed to a stop, doubling over to catch his breath, squinting up to see sky.
It wasn't the kind of sky he'd ever seen before; there was a red-tinted hue to it, and there wasn't a cloud, star, sun or moon anywhere in sight. It briefly reminded him that even if he got out of Hades' dungeon, that didn't mean he was back home.
But he could grieve that after he was free.
Killian walked quickly to the wall, head still canted back at the opening, a few dozen feet above him. He pressed a hand to the wall, which was smooth as marble. He felt his chest clench; how the bloody hell was he supposed to climb out? It seemed as though this was a one-way entrance; only a way inside.
Killian spun in a half circle, stopping when he saw it.
A rope.
It was bloodstained and ratty, and it hung down from the top. Perhaps one of Hades' other prisoners escaped, he mused as he ran to it. That would explain the bloodstains.
Grabbing the rope, Killian tried to ignore how the burn on his palm stung badly. He gave an experimental tug; it was tight and strong. It would carry his weight.
He flicked his eyes to the top.
Then, down to his hand.
His one hand.
The hope that had surged in his chest at the sight of it waned an instant later.
Killian shut his eyes, damning the hook for perhaps the millionth time of his life, but no more so than now.
There were many, many things he'd been able to manage (however challengingly) doing one-handed, but there were just some things that were impossible, and climbing a rope was one of them.
But damn it if he wasn't going to try.
Throwing another panicked look behind him, seeing the coast still clear, Killian tightened his grip on the rope, pressing a booted foot to the wall, lifting himself off the ground. With his hook, he struck the wall—the stark memory of saving Emma from the blasted ice wall rose sharply, the first time she grabbed hold of him, showed her affection for him, and now she would never hold him again—his breath was stolen at the thought, but he shook himself, attempting to dig it in enough to use it as a handhold, but his strike didn't even dent the surface. This wall was just as hard as Elsa's had been. Jarring pain reverberated through his whole left side at the impact, making him clench his jaw.
He grasped the rope that hung beneath him between his knees, reaching his hand up higher to grab the rope a few inches higher. He attempted to use his legs to propel himself upward, forgetting about the broken ribs. The muscles tightened, making the bones grind together in a way that felt like the hot slice of a blade. He groaned through his teeth, hand slipping down, the rope cutting into the wound burned into his palm from the cell bar.
Killian growled, trying again to use his knees and simply ignore the pain erupting in his midsection, but it was impossible. It burned and burned and burned, and he reflexively doubled over himself, his hand losing grip and he fell back to the ground. He couldn't hold in the groan as he mistreated every injury.
"Leaving so soon?"
The voice startled Killian badly.
Bloody—
He jerked around.
Hades was standing behind him, an amused look on his face.
Killian fought the urge to flinch at the sight of him, and instead forced himself to his feet. He kept his jaw screwed shut, trying his damndest to keep his pain silent, and ignore the shot of fear racing down his spine.
Hades looked from the rope to Killian, wicked smile growing. "Oh," he said with faux concern. "The… one-handed thing makes that a little hard… doesn't it? Shame."
On his feet, Killian glared at the God, but said nothing. Just tried to fight the ever-present feeling of loss because he had been so damn close.
Hades raised a dangerous brow. "You," he said in a voice that sent a chill across Killian's skin, "just tried to leave without paying. I don't take kindly to people trying to skip out on their bill, Captain."
Killian tensed.
But as quickly as the God's tone gained the edge, it lost it, and he was grinning at him again. "Also, if it makes you feel any better," he said, waving his hand, and suddenly he and Killian were no longer in the cave; Killian had been unsteady his feet, and stumbled back to the new ground. "That," Hades went on, "did not lead out of my chambers."
Killian coughed, hating the way magic felt, and blinked tentatively at the new surroundings. He was in a huge, dark, eerie cave. Floor, ceiling and walls were made of dirt-wall and stone. No natural light filtered in anywhere; only an ominous glow from the torches that hung on the walls and several rivers that flowed on each side of the platform, each a different color. There was one entrance to this… this room, leading into a darkened tunnel.
A throne sat on one edge of the area, and what looked like the furniture of an office surrounded nearly the full circumference of the platform. Darkness hung above, like a never-ending night. The streams of water around them had whispers hanging over the surface, like some sort of hissing, and there was something… live, something supernatural lurking in the waves. Killian was starkly reminded of the tales of Davy Jones from his young days on the water. He jerked his gaze away.
It was haunting, it was ominous.
And he was beginning to feel bloody terrified.
Killian stumbled to his feet as he pieced it together. "All of it… it was a bloody trick?" Hades had wanted Killian to try to escape. The whole damn thing was some sort of an illusion for his entertainment. And he specifically used Killian's lack of a hand to his own amusement.
Killian felt familiar resentment and hatred rise within him.
"It was a test, Captain," said Hades from his throne, regarding Killian with an unsettling stare. "You have something that I desperately need to take from you." He leaned forward, and Killian swallowed hard. "It's hope." His eyes narrowed. "Hope is strictly forbidden here. You thought you could escape me. I don't appreciate that." He stood then, advancing toward Killian. "And to think, I already had plenty of reasons to punish you. Glutton for it, aren't you?"
Having literally nothing to lose, Killian ran forward with a yell, slashing at the God with his hook, but only struck air. He stumbled to a stop, wildly scanning the room; Hades had disappeared.
"What did I just tell you about hope, Captain?"
The voice was directly in his ear.
Killian shuddered, attempting to whip around, but suddenly felt himself immobilized, the familiar buzz of magic trailing over his skin.
Killian never thought he could hate someone as much as the Crocodile.
Hades walked in front of him. Killian struggled. "You thought you could hurt me," said Hades, in a sarcastically hurt voice. "You hoped you could hurt me," he amended. "You can't. No one can." He laughed, like the idea genuinely amused him. "But you'll learn that in time. I'll give you some fair warning, however." He vanished again, and his voice whispered once again over Killian's shoulder, making him flinch. "Defying me makes me angry. You do not want to make me angry. And, unless you forgot," he hissed, "I am already angry with you."
Killian fought the magic.
It did nothing.
"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" said Hades, circling him again, slowly, sizing him up in a way that made Killian's skin crawl. "No matter. I have all the time in, well, eternity. I will remove that hope from you." He continued that slow circle, even as Killian struggled in the grip of the magic. "Now," Hades said, his voice as dark as the blackness around, "you need to be punished, Captain."
Near-panic rose in Killian's chest, and he tried to shove it back down. He would not be afraid of this demon. He would not.
"Hmm," the God drawled, "Where to start?"
Killian fought.
"Let's see. I could…" Hades leaned over Killian's shoulder, whispering, "take the other hand," making Killian tense with fear that shot through his whole system. Hades chuckled. "Just the threat seems to be enough. Perhaps I'll let you keep it… For now."
If he still had a heart, it would have been pounding in his head.
Hades stopped in front of Killian. Killian glared at him, pouring every ounce of hatred into the gaze as he could. "Well, you seem to think you can run away. I can't have that." Without warning, Hades lashed out, slamming the heel of his foot into Killian's left knee. Killian cried out, the grip of the magic released him, and he fell to the ground, his knee exploding in pain. He writhed, right hand scrabbling toward the destroyed joint, harsh breaths escaping his teeth, tears burning his eyes.
"That oughta do it."
"Bloody—" gasped Killian, a cry escaping him when Hades stomped his foot over Killian's left ankle. Bones snapped, fire exploded. "—HELL!" His voice cut into a strangled yell that he tried to stop. The bastard didn't need the satisfaction.
But bloody damn hell it hurt.
He breathed hard, the entire limb feeling like it caught fire. Nerves frayed, bones grated like knives against each other, no position alleviated it—Killian shut his eyes, broken sounds escaping clenched teeth.
"Still feel like running, Captain?"
Killian's eyes, half-glazed over in agony, narrowed weakly at the God, loathing radiating from him.
"I…" Killian's voice caught in something strangled as pain thundered throughout his leg, and he fought the urge to curl in on himself. He breathed hard, his breaths mixing with a cry he desperately tried to swallow. His words disjointed, he said, "I've… lost… every—thing," he huffed out, voice catching on the last word as agony spiked. Pain-glazed eyes narrowed at Hades, a wicked smile flicking at Killian's lips. "You… really think… you… sc-scare me?" He laughed, something more hysterical than humorous, even when it set his ribs on fire.
Hades no longer looked amused. "We'll see about that."
Something dark spotted Killian's vision, and as the world blurred, he heard Hades order something to someone out of sight.
"We'll pick this up soon." said Hades somewhere beyond the haze of agony. "Stay off that leg, now!"
Not a moment later, Killian was lifted.
Pain erupted.
And he knew no more.