Chapter 1| Shots Fired

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Killian's POV-

It's an addiction.

Like a drug that leaves you frantic, yearning for more.

It takes away from my constant pain of the devil relentlessly nawing on the shards of my broken soul, and momentarily shoves my misery off onto someone else every time I pull the trigger.

"It's all about the tumblers...." Killian mumbles quietly to himself.

As He kneels down on a back porch in his jeans, the dark denim soaking into the puddles of rain water sitting idle on the steps, while he tampers with the lock. His eyes thoughtful as he balances on one knee.


I'm in. The door softly swings open a few inches, creaking. The warm air from the heated house starting to escape into the cold night. Killian discreetly swings himself into the dark laundry room, his unkept hair rebelling. Falling down into his face as he quickly shifts around shutting and locking the door behind him. His black gloved hands twisting the knob until he hears the door click shut.

The blinds on the door barely shaking from the sudden intrusion.

He strolls in With his .22 Caliber pistol strapped over his shoulder, Subsonic rounds attached to his belt. They act as a silencer, as the bullets normally would rupture through sound barrier when they break away. But his employer makes sure he's well equipped.

Pushing his back up against the wall as he slowly starts to round a corner, making sure the coast is clear.
And it is, the house is dark and empty. Making it nearly impossible to navigate around the furniture spread through out the living quarters.

After stealthily making quick work up the carpeted staircase, Killian stumbles acrossed the perfect vantage point to get a clear shot in at the unsuspecting target.


The dark night almost suffocates you. Your Demons taking advantage, they come out to play. These are the moments you pay the consequence of being in this line of work.

Not the killing. Watching people suffer, struggling and gasping as they take their last breath. But the painstakingly slow moments that pass, granting your brain permission to wander.
The mind plays cruel tricks, creating all the pain of the past to eat you alive.

Gun locked and loaded, the safety switched off.
Killian loses his inner battle. Allowing his Demons to come out and play as the fateful night rolls on.

Emma's POV-
*earlier that night*

Turning the keys towards me in the ignition, I turn off my reliable bug. Also whats currently my hotel on wheels.

I reach around into what should hardly be considered a backseat, blindly searching until I feel what looking for, excavating it from behind my seat I push my arms through the sleeves of my red leather jacket.
Grabbing ahold of my loose blonde strands, I pull my hair up into a messy pony tail with little help of my rear-view mirror.

Just One more job. Then, finally... I'll have the funds to retire this renegade lifestyle.

The car door protests as I step out, and my heels meet the wet black pavement and into the bitter Portland air. Transitioning from the comfort of my heated car;
Shivers crawl through me leaving via my mouth when the sudden chill knocks into me.

I make my way through a dark backalley belonging to the lively 'Rabbit hole' Tavern. Stepping over some trash bags someone carelessly threw out.

With every footfall my heels create a echo. Vibrating back to my ears. The casual splash when I step into a puddle.

The burnt brick walls surrounding me either side stretch up towards the black night sky, the surrounding city lights making it barely possible to spot any stars.

Distant sirens fill the air, Insecurities rattle around in me as I start feeling just how small I really am.

Shutting those feelings down for good, my lungs filling with the crisp air as I take a deep breath striding with all the confidence I've got, up to an almost hidden metal door.

As the memo I received earlier required I do, I knock 5 times. And then wait.

A tall burly man -With a ponytail? Seriously we could be twinning. God knows that combo mixes.- Opens the door as I try, really actually try, to hold back a snicker.

He decides on 'assisting me' to our meeting place by grabbing ahold of my jacketed arm. I don't know though, if thats a normal thing that they do here, Or if its because he could tell I thought he looked retarded. But he can keep his hands to himself-

"I've learned to walk, Thanks.-" I said reassuring him, My annoyed Sarcastic voice filling the empty hall. While quickly ripping my arm out of his grasp.

"Ah the always pleasant, Miss Swan"- A older accented voice filters through the stifling air. The room I'm led into is dark, aside from one light set above this mans desk. The artificial light casting an almost blinding glow.

Shadows lurk around the room. Call me crazy but I think the shadows are moving-

Blinking back my concern, looking him straight in the eyes. "You sent for me?" I question. Trying to keep my voice steady and disinterested.

"Yes. It would appear that I have.-"

"Maybe next time send a text, or An email, or I don't know, CALL. Not sure if you've noticed, but we are currently in the 21st century."

"Well -" He says faying shock as the hand thats not holding onto his cane, sits atop his chest."Call me a hopeless romantic, dearie but here I thought you'd find message by bird so much more, personable."

"Yeah, well you thought wrong. I don't take too kindly to sharing my donuts with a fleet of hungry pigeons. Thanks"

"My condolences. Now- getting down to business"
"I need you Miss Swan." He reluctantly admits "You see, There is an item being housed nearby and I need someone to collect it." He pauses "And not just anyone. I need the best."
"With the market I'm in, I need security that I'll be staying on top, I cant afford to be beaten by my competitors."

"What makes you so sure I'm the one for the job. How did you even find me?" I skeptically ask.

"I've got ears underground. I know everything that goes on Miss swan.-
know what you do; And how you cover your tracks. Not many can say the same, That is how I need to keep it." "Now, do we have a deal?" His eyes borderline creepy, like there picking me apart piece by piece.

The man motions to his body guard with the pony tail, with a simple nod of his head.

Silently communicating, the body guard opens a vault located behind his desk concealed by a 'van gough' knock off.

After the hidden vault slams shut, a woven sack is carefully laid down onto the oak desk.

The alarming sound of seams slicing, penetrates through the air as he cuts open the sack with a knife he just happens to have on his person. The appealing sound of clanking coins overflowing out onto the wooden desk, tickling my ears.

My eyes instantly go wide. As a thief that looks Extremely tempting. As a poor person living out of their car, it looks like life.

Gold coins reflect and glisten in the artificial light gathering my undivided attention, until a sneaky voice threads through- "They call me Mr.Gold - Welcome to the team."


Kinda getting the ball rolling, setting the scene... Wanna see a thief & Wanted Assassin on the run??

I may or may not keep this, its just for fun. So please lemme know your thoughts & if you'd be interested in reading more. Don't forget to VOTE and comment! Love you guys :3

| travels_with_ouat |

Shots Fired | CS (#Watty2017) Read this story for FREE!