Seven

"Where's Jefferson?" August demanded as he and Robin burst into the police precinct.

They had no time to mess around; their two cases were connected and there was a decent chance they knew exactly who the next target was. The phone book Robin had checked told them there was just one more Emma Swan who resided in the city of New York. It only made sense for her to be the murderer's next move.

"Right here," Jefferson stood up from his desk, walking over to join August and Robin as they ploughed across the room.

Robin had given him a call to fill him in on their latest development before they had begun their journey back to the precinct, allowing Jefferson to make some progress in contacting the potential third victim. August wanted confirmation that they had her safe, or at least on the way to the precinct. They had advanced warning that she was the next victim.

"Have you reached the next girl?" Robin asked Jefferson.

August eagerly awaited his response. The plan was simple; get the final Emma Swan into protective custody whilst they located the murderer using the soon-to-be compiled sketch from the witnesses of the first murder.

"Not yet," Jefferson gave a small shake of his head. "I've tried calling but I keep getting hit by the answering machine. I've sent two patrol cars over to her apartment building. We should hear back from them soon."

"We need to get on top of this situation. Fast," August stated. "It's a media storm out there. There's already been a leak of the second victim's name to the press. They've caught on to the murderer following the order they're listed in the phone book. They were out there when we came in, asking if we'd caught the pattern."

"Oh, and I'm sure they're loving this," Jefferson commented dryly.

They were all familiar with the likes of the regular press that gathered on the building's front steps. The more respectable press waited patiently for their official statements whilst the ones with a tendency to sensationalize were like vultures for a hint of an exclusive as officers entered or exited the building.

Jefferson's phone rang and he was at his desk immediately, snatching the phone up and holding it to his ear. August was hot on his heels, Robin following behind a little slower. Whilst Robin stood waiting patiently as Jefferson listened closely, August was a little more intense, searching Jefferson's facial expressions for any sign that they had managed to make contact with the final Emma Swan.

"Have you tried the apartment manager?" Jefferson sighed lightly as he questioned the officer on the other side of the call.

August let out a huff of air. It didn't take a genius to determine that meant they hadn't received an answer from Emma at the apartment.

Jefferson sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Of course he is. Okay, I want you posted outside. You find her, or see anything suspicious, I want to know about it. Immediately."

Jefferson slammed the phone back down with more force than he might have intended. The loud crash as it was shoved down earned him disgruntled looks from some of his colleagues whose only worry at that time was completing their paperwork.

"I swear the universe is working against us," Jefferson muttered in apparent disbelief at the situation rapidly unfolding before them. He continued, reporting back to August and Robin, "There was no answer at her apartment and the apartment manager is out. I guess at least someone is enjoying their Saturday night."

"I'm calling her," August stated.

He couldn't stand waiting around, hoping that the officers posted at the apartment would happen upon her. He snatched Jefferson's phone up off the desk and placed it to his ear, dialling the number scrawled across a post-it note in Jefferson's handwriting, complete with the name Swan.

"I just called her!" Jefferson shot back at him with minor irritation, making it clear that he thought August's actions were a total waste of time. "And we've just established she's not at her apartment. She's not going to answer if she's not there."

"I'm calling her," August insisted, refusing to listen to reason.

As he completed the number, the dialling tone rang out in his ear. It seemed to go on forever, as he impatiently drummed his fingers against the desk, then it cut off with a click.

"Hi there!" A chirpy female voice answered on the other side of the phone.

Relief flooded through August upon receiving an answer and, despite himself, he shot an I told you so look in Jefferson's direction. The other detective shot a smug smirk back as he watched August with his arms folded.

"Hello, I'm Detect-"

"Ha, ha, ha, fooled you!"

The voice cut August off before he could even finish introducing him, laughing away at his supposed foolishness. Jefferson, despite the severity of the situation, struggled to hold back a snicker at the crestfallen look on August's previously smug face. He knew, from his own attempts at getting in contact with Emma, exactly what was happening on the other end of the call.

"You're talking to a machine but don't be shy! Machines need love too so talk to it and Lily, that's me, or Emma will get back to you."

Realising he had been hit with the answering machine, August slammed the phone back down on the receiver and shot Jefferson a glaring look as the man continued to make his amusement known.

"Don't fancy giving the machine some love?" Jefferson snarked.

"Nice to see someone's enjoying themselves whilst this woman's life hangs in the balance," August retorted, having none of his comments.

"Take a chill pill!" Jefferson instructed him, throwing his hands up in a mock surrender. "I'm only trying to lighten the mood."

"This is serious, Jefferson!" August shot back at him. "We know there's a girl out there that someone's trying to kill. We have no idea where she is and you're… what? Making jokes!"

"The murderer has been using phonebooks to track down his victims. They've all been killed in their homes. If we can't find this Emma Swan with all our resources, I'd bet this psychopath is having the same trouble. She's not at home and we have officers on surveillance in case she returns home, who are also keeping an eye out for any signs of strange activity. What more do you expect me to do?" Jefferson challenged him.

August couldn't find an argument to that. As much as he wanted to do something, infuriatingly there wasn't much more they could do. He wasn't about to admit that to Jefferson, however, and the two fell into a tense silence, holding each other's stare.

"I can see it already," Robin spoke up, breaking the silence from where he stood at the nearby window. He was staring out of it, looking down at the growing number of reporters gathering outside the building. "They'll name him the Phone Book Killer."

August broke his eyes off Jefferson, trying his best to ignore the likely amount of satisfaction it gave the other man. He joined Robin at the window, staring down at the cameras and reporters below, an idea forming in his mind. Determined, he set off towards the elevators.

"Where are you going?" Robin called after him.

August stopped, turning back to them to briefly fill them in on his plan.

"To make an official statement," he told them. "If I can get myself on TV, there's a chance she'll see it, and then maybe she will come to us."


It was dark by the time Emma emerged from the movie theatre and she was hungry, despite having made her way through an entire bucket of popcorn on her own. She ducked into the pizza parlor right next store to the movie theatre, the smell radiating out of it successful in drawing her in. The place was crowded, presumably filled with other moviegoers who had the same idea as her. It was loud, making it hard for her to hear her own thoughts over the combined noise of the television, general chatter, laughter and the video game sounds erupting from the consoles dotted around the place.

It was nothing like she imagined Gusteau's with Neal would have been like, but she was comfortable in the environment which was very similar to the places she had hung out in as a teenager. She had a feeling she would have felt extremely out of place at Gusteau's, just another reason in her growing list of reasons she wasn't too bummed about Neal cancelling their date.

She took a seat at the bar, deciding not to take up a table all to herself. Looking around, it didn't even look like they had a free table if she wanted one. After getting herself a drink and placing her food order, Emma turned her attention to the television on the wall just behind the bar. They had the news showing, the words BREAKING NEWS flashing across the bottom of the screen, the bold white lettering standing out against the red strip behind it.

"In breaking news, New York City police have just confirmed the presence of a one-day pattern killer within the city. Detective August Booth released a statement just moments ago."

The scene on the screen transitioned from the anchor-woman in the news studio to a police detective stood on the steps of the police building.

"I can confirmed reports of a second murder taking place this afternoon in which the murder weapon and technique is identical to that of the murder of Emma Swan which took place this morning," Detective Booth stated.

Emma's loose attention was fully gained at the mention of her own name on the news for the second time that day. It had been weird enough that morning, hearing her name in the same sentence as 'brutally shot to death'. It was even more unnerving hearing it in refence to the phrase 'one-day pattern killer'.

"Hey!" The customer beside her spoke up, waving a hand to gain the bartender's attention. Once successful, he gestured loosely towards the television. "D'ya think we can catch the football scores on the other channel?"

"Don't touch it!" Emma snapped, lurching herself onto her feet. She was ready to dive over the bar and take the remote control for herself if it came to it.

Her sudden outburst earned her some strange looks, particularly from the customer to her left, whilst the bartender sent the customer an apologetic look and a shrug before returning to making drinks. Emma settled back down into her bar stool, returning her attention to the detective on the news.

"…the second victim, found in her apartment this afternoon, was also named Emma Swan. Due to these similarities, we do believe that these two murders are linked and will be investigating them as such. We urge…"

The rest of the words fell away into the background as Emma abruptly found herself feeling extremely exposed. It was terrifying looking at the world with the knowledge that someone could quite well be out to get her. She looked around the packed pizza parlor, recognizing no faces in the crowd. They were all strangers to her. She knew no one. Any one of them could quite possibly be on an anti-Emma-Swan murdering spree and she wouldn't even know about it until it was too late.

She was in something of a daze. Everything suddenly felt hazy and dream-like. With one police statement, her entire world had been flipped on its head. Where she had initially felt comfortable in the pizza place, she immediately found herself alert to everyone's movements, questioning everyone's actions and trusting no one.

Emma shook her head clear. She had to focus. Panicking would almost certainly get her killed. Besides, she never panicked. Getting in touch with the police was her most logical option and her eyes landed on a pay phone at the back of the parlor. She kept her head down and made a move to it slowly, trying her best to remain casual and fly under the radar. She knew it was vital that she didn't draw too much attention to herself. She was in a crowded place and, as unsettling as that was with the new revelation, she reasoned that it had to be one of the safest places for her. Not only would it make it harder for any potential murderer to see her, but she also doubted that they would open fire in such a busy place with so many witnesses. That's what she convinced herself, at least.

Making it to the pay phone, Emma was met with the sight of an 'out of order' sign. She punched it in frustration. It was an action of instant regret as her knuckles met the metal phone box underneath the sign. She cursed at herself, shaking her hand as it throbbed.

She knew, from her many nights out with Lily, that there was a bar just down the street with plenty of pay phones. If they were all out of order, it would be a clear sign that the universe wanted her dead. And even then, she wouldn't give up without a fight. Determined, Emma turned from the useless payphone and made a move for the door.

The contents of someone's spilt drink on the hard floor sent her foot flying back from underneath her and Emma was sent hurtling forwards as she lost her balance. She collided right into a man, her hands pressing against his chest to save herself.

"Steady there, lass," he spoke with a calm English accent as he helped guide her back onto her feet, his touch light around her left arm and leaving her the second she had regained her balance. "Are you okay?"

There was concern in his voice. Concern which she almost believed to be genuine until she looked up at his face. She recognized him immediately. The intense blue-eyed stare was the same one she had been on the receiving end of at work earlier that day. It was the guy from the dinner who had followed her every move as if his life had depended on it.

"I'm fine." Emma insisted abruptly.

She took a step back from the guy, her brain screaming at her not to trust him. It sparked a fierce debate to rage on in her head regarding whether his presence there was a mere coincidence or whether he was stalking her with murderous intentions. His intensity certainly didn't help his case; he stared at her, just as he had done in the diner, like she was the most important thing in the world. Lily would tell her it was romantic, point out his ridiculous good-looks and tell her to roll with the stalker-murderer vibes radiating off the man. Emma, however, no matter how much she complained about it, actually valued her life and, although she would never admit it, the news of the two Emma Swan murders had her paranoid. It couldn't be a coincidence; there were too many factors at play.

She brushed past him, heading for the door of the pizza parlor. On the extremely off-chance that the guy was completely innocent, there was still a murderer out there specifically targeting Emma Swan's. She needed to get in contact with the police. Her plan remained the same – to get to the bar and, more importantly, the phones.

The street outside was near-enough empty, low on potential witnesses which Emma knew wasn't great given her situation. The safety in numbers which she'd held to her advantage in the pizza parlor was no more. Emma knew the sooner she got to the bar, bound to be packed with people on a Saturday night, the safer she would be.

She took a quick, casual glance over her shoulder when she reached the half-way point to the bar. The sight of My Blue-eyes just a few feet behind her confirmed the suspicions she had raised back in the pizza parlor. He was following her! He tried to cover it up, acting all casual when she glanced back, sticking his hand in his pocket and staring into the shop window beside him, feigning interest in the comic book store window. Emma had seen the initial confusion on his face, however, the momentary frown as he tried to work out what kind of store he was actually looking at. It was obvious he had no real interest in comic books. There was no intense stare at them, not like the one she kept finding herself on the unfortunate end of.

If there was any doubt in her mind that it was a coincidence back in the pizza parlor, it had evaporated with the knowledge that he had clearly followed her out onto the street. That was no coincidence. The confirmation was almost calming for Emma in a weird way. It meant she knew who she was up against. It gave a face to her pursuer and she size him up. He wasn't much taller than she was and he wasn't exactly packed with muscles. He leaned towards the thinner side despite hints of muscle definition. It was almost like he was in need of food, even though she knew he had eaten two plates of burgers and fries earlier that day. Regardless, he didn't look the type who could easily overpower her and, with the advantage of an extra hand, Emma was fairly confident she could take him.

Before she really knew what she was doing, Emma rounded on him, stalking right up to him. Adrenaline coursing through her body, she was in full fight mode of her fight or flight response. His eyes widened at the realisation that she had clocked him, but he had no time to react before her fist collided with his face. Hard.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled with a mouthful of blood as his hand went to the split lip Emma's punch had inflicted.

He bent down slightly, spitting blood onto the sidewalk. The forward motion lifted his black coat off the waistband of his jeans, revealing a handgun sticking out from it. As Blue-eyes wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Emma knew she had to get it from him whilst he was distracted. She made her move, elbowing him in the back of the neck for good measure to keep him doubled over before grabbing the gun from him. She took three hasty steps back, releasing the safety off the gun, then pointed it straight at Blue-eyes' chest.

"You're messing with the wrong woman," Emma told him as she held him at gunpoint, her finger hovering over the trigger warningly.

His grumbles as he rubbed his neck halted immediately when he straightened up and those blue eyes fell on the gun pointed at him. He threw his hands up into the surrender position right away.

"Emma…" he spoke warningly, like she was making some huge mistake.

Hearing him use her name only made Emma more prepared to use the gun if it came to it., The guy -who she had only seen for the first time that lunch time – knew her name.

He took a step forward.

"Ah-ah," she shook her head as she cocked the gun threateningly, making her position clear to him. She had the gun. She had control. "Is this what you used? To murder those women? Planning on using it to kill me?" She challenged him.

"Emma, you're making a mistake," he spoke slowly, calmly. He didn't looked fazed at all about being on the wrong end of the gun. The guy's relaxed manner, and the way he kept insisting on using her name – which she hadn't told him – was unnerving. "I didn't kill those women. I'm not here to kill you, love. I'm here to protect you."

"Clearly, I can handle myself," Emma shot back at him.

Her distrust of the man grew further upon recognizing the type of gun she held in her hand. It was a standard police-issued handgun. One of her many foster fathers had been a police officer. He had been the one who had shown her around a gun. It was because of him that she knew exactly what she was doing with the gun she held, and it was because of him that she recognized the gun to be a police-issued one.

The man, despite his claims to be protecting her, clearly was not a police officer. If he were, he would have identified himself the second she took the gun from him. He would have grabbed his badge and cleared the misunderstanding up in a second. Instead, he was trying to gain her trust through mere words alone. Little did he know, she wasn't a trusting person. She'd had her trust thrown back in her face far too many times over the course of her life to hand it out for free.

"You really think you can survive on your own?" the man challenged her. He looked both impressed yet slightly amused at the same time.

"Managed pretty well in my life so far," Emma shot back at him.

"But you haven't faced anything like this before," the man returned, his tone deadly serious, the look of amusement from moments before gone in an instant. "You have no idea what you're up against. I do! It's a ruthless killing machine programmed for one thing. To kill you. It has no conscience, no mercy, no pity and it will not stop until you are dead."

"Do you know what you sound like?" Emma asked him.

A serial killer murdering everyone with the name of Emma Swan was one thing. A 'ruthless killing machine' was a whole other thing. She lived in the real world and didn't buy one word of his desperate, crazy ramblings.

"Like a mad man, I'm sure," he acknowledged reluctantly. He let out a heavy, resigned sigh. "But it's true," he maintained, meeting her eyes with his blue ones. There was no intense stare but a pleading look in his eyes, a desperation for her to accept his insane proposition. "Swan, you have to believe me. The thing that's after you, it's not human. It was designed to kill. That's it's entire purpose. It can't be stopped and you can't do this alone."

"You're a crazy person! Or a liar! Or both!" Emma exclaimed as he continued down the line of things which only happened in science-fiction movies.

"You really don't believe me?" The words came out low, quiet, like he wasn't at all surprised but wanted so badly for her just to go along with it. "Can't you see I'm telling the truth?"

"I can see that you believe it," Emma answered carefully, speaking gently.

The man didn't seem so murderous to her with his spiel of unstoppable machines. He just seemed confused, lost in his warped version of reality. She felt an urge to try and held him but she knew she had to be careful with her wording so not to send him over the edge.

"But just because you believe something doesn't make it true," Emma broke it to him carefully.

"I don't believe it. I know it," he corrected her and he seemed to be struggling to hold back his frustration. He seemed to be doing his best to stay calm and he ploughed into another wave of information, "The machines are my world. Fighting against them is all I've ever known and as much as I wish that I were crazy and it's all some grand delusion, I'm not that lucky. The machines have done nothing but take from me my entire life. My mother. My brother. My father. Friends. Acquaintances. Even enemies. And now I'm telling you that you need to believe. Not for my sake, but for your own, and for your family's."

Emma let out a light scoff. It was comforting to know that he didn't know everything about her, even if he did know her name,

"I don't have a family," she corrected.

"Not yet."

"Ohhh!" Emma exclaimed in mock realisation, her patience really starting to wear thin the longer the exchange continued. "Now you can see the future too?"

"No one can see the future!" he corrected her immediately, staring at her like she was the crazy one for even suggesting it.

"Of course, you can't," Emma muttered sarcastically, "because that would be ridiculous!"

He let out an irritated huff at her sarcasm.

"I… I just cheat," he struggled to explain.

"Oh!" Emma exclaimed with a sarcastic nod because that made it all make sense to her.

"Just, listen," he urged her, "and just hear me out."

"No. You are a stalker!" Emma told him. "A stalker who is clearly out of his mind and is in no state to be carrying around a gun!"

As she referred to it, she jolted the gun slightly in her hand to remind him of who was in possession of it. Whilst his delusions had planted new doubts in her mind as to whether he really was the murderer she suspected him to be, she still didn't have the time to continue the back and forth with him. Whether it was him or not, there was a murderer out there. She was on someone's list somewhere and she needed to get back on track.

"Now, this is how this is going to work," she told him slowly. "I'm going to take this gun and, unless you want me to shoot you with it, I suggest you back off."

He looked ready to argue with her and then appeared to decide otherwise. He took a cautious step back, seemingly conceding. Emma turned quickly, setting herself back on the path to the bar. She put the safety back on the gun before placing it in her own waistband, under the cover of her red jacket. She could get to it quickly if she needed to defend herself. She made routine glances over her shoulder, checking in with the guy's movements, or lack thereof. He remained fixed in the same place she had left him, neither following her nor walking away.

Whatever he was up to, Emma left him to it, ducking through the door of the bar when she finally reached it. The place was lively and crammed with people enjoying their Saturday night, a luxury Emma couldn't afford. The DJ was blasting music, the small dancefloor packed with a bachelorette party and the tables were full with other patrons drinking and talking amongst themselves. Emma waded through the crowd to the row of pay phones at the back, grateful to see all four were fully operational and no 'out of order' signs in sight.

She stopped at the first one, her hand diving into her pocket for the coin she needed to use the phone. She shoved the coin in the hole eagerly, promptly dialled the number and then held the receiver to her ear, listening to the familiar dialling tone as she pressed herself up against the wall. She could see most of the bar from that position and could just about make out the door through all the bodies. If anyone entered looking hell-bent on murdering her, she would spot them, especially if it were the guy she had just held at gunpoint.

She wouldn't be forgetting him in a while.

There was a click in her ear as the dialling tone cut out and it appeared someone had finally answered her call.

"You have reached the New York City Police Department Emergency number," an automated, pre-recorded monotone voice told her, "all lines are busy-"

"You've gotta be kidding me," Emma muttered in disbelief.

"If you need a police car sent out to you, please stay on the line-"

Emma slammed the receiver down in frustration. The police were there just the other day when she was going a little over the speed limit but as soon as she needed them because her life was in danger, she couldn't get through! It was just her luck.

She grabbed another coin from her pocket. If she couldn't get the police, Lily and Peter would have to do. The familiar number was dialled in no time and, once again, she found herself listening to the dialling tone. She only hoped Lily would hear the phone going over the music and whatever else they were up to which Emma opted not to think about.


The phone rang out in the apartment.

Faint music escaped the headphones of the discarded Walkman on the floor, a distorted, irritable noise when unable to make out the lyrics. A large black boot stepped down on it, crushing the Walkman under its weight. The Huntsman had no interest in such primitive technology. Its only interest was in its mission; to kill Emma Swan and ensure Dark-Knight's victory. The third and final Emma Swan lay in her own blood just a few feet from it. Her boyfriend's lifeless body lay in the bedroom, mere collateral damage. He had put up a valiant fight in an effort to protect Emma Swan but he had been no match against the ruthless killing machine.

Mission accomplished, it turned on the incessant ringing from the primitive machine across the room, drawing its gun. As if on cue, the ringing cut out as it was ready to fire upon the device.

"Hi there!"

A voice rang out from the machine.

The Huntsman stared at it, motionless, listening and waiting expectantly as a long pause followed.

"Ha, ha, ha, fooled you! You're talking to a machine but don't be shy! Machines need love too so talk to it and Lily, that's me, or Emma will get back to you. Wait for the beep!"

A loud beep followed. Disinterested, the Huntsman turned back to the body of Emma Swan, beginning on final check to ensure she was dead and its mission was accomplished before it would leave.

"Lily, it's Emma!"

A new voice rang out over the inferior machine. The Huntsman's head snapped back to it instantly.

"I don't know if you've seen the news but there's been another Emma Swan murder. This isn't a joke anymore. I think someone's on a rampage or something, I don't know but I think I might be next. And there's this guy whose been following me all day. He's crazy! Going on about machines… I don't know what the hell is happening to my life right now! This is bad. I really hope you get this soon because I need you and Peter to come pick me up. I'm in the Rabbit Hole bar at the moment and it's pretty busy. I'm thinking safety in numbers is the best approach and my car is too many blocks away to risk it. I need a lift to the police station. I've tried calling them but I can't get through. I going to try again. So, as soon as you get this, can you get to the Rabbit Hole. I'll call if anything changes."

The voice stopped and the Huntsman turned to the body on the floor, to the woman it had been so sure was Emma Swan but Emma Swan had just spoken over the machine.

It had made a mistake. Its mission was not complete.

It moved quickly to the drawer underneath the mediocre machine, pulling it open and riffling through. It needed visual confirmation of the identity of Emma Swan if it were to find her in the Rabbit Hole bar. Its cold blue eyes landed on two small rectangular cards in amongst the junk of the drawer. It picked them up, reading the words City College of New York and Student ID on both of them. The name on one car read Lilith Page whilst the other read Emma Swan. It scanned across the one of greater interest to it, the one with Emma Swan's name on it, and found the picture ID to be of a young blonde woman. The Emma Swan in the picture looked nothing like the lifeless dark-haired woman who lay on the kitchen floor. No, the woman on the floor bore a striking resemblance to the picture on the Lilith Page ID.

It had made a mistake.

It scrunched Lilith Page's ID up, tossing it down on the floor as it pocketed Emma Swan's. Emma Swan was still alive, but she wouldn't be for much longer.

The Huntsman knew exactly what she looked like.

It knew exactly where she was.

It knew exactly what it had to do.