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Emma wasn’t too sure on how she had gotten here.
It had started as a normal call-out. Well, normal for Storybrooke, anyways.
A hell-beast, said the anonymous caller. Easily as big as a car, they had said, with wings half the size. It sounded like a challenge, and Emma had felt like she was wasting away at the station, with nothing to do. She had wished for a little excitement today, something she could sink her teeth into. Sometimes, she wished she knew better than to wish for anything.
It was actually quite cute, though unnatural enough to be nothing that this world could have produced. Maine was normal enough, and normal could not have produced this. A strange mix of creatures – the body of a wolf, the wings of a dragon. She’d never seen anything like it, even on her visits to the Enchanted Forest. It was snarling at her now, sharp teeth glistening wet with saliva, and she found herself fixated on them, on how they could likely tear her apart.
The wolves wings were a beautiful red, reminding her of blood past spilt – and if she wasn’t so intimidated by them, she may have felt wonder at the appendages. What sort of psycho adds a dragons wings to a wolf anyway? Wolves were majestic enough creatures, and maybe this was just Emma’s unhealed childhood trauma, but she thought dragons were fucking awesome. She’d kill to see one that, for once, wasn’t trying to kill her.
What fairytales did she know that held wolves, or dragons, close to the heart of the story?
Red Riding Hood – Ruby, whom she considered a dear friend, would not have sent this winged creature after her, and neither would Granny – she was practically keeping her in business with the amount of bear claws and coffees she had purchased from the establishment recently.
Maleficent stayed safely under the clock tower, out of harms way – and though Emma had stabbed her a while ago, it didn’t mean that she would send some fucked-up wolf-dragon hybrid to kill her, right? She was saving Storybrooke (not that the dragon-woman would have known that, but the point still stood!!), and she had been desperate – willing to take Regina’s word for it when she sent her down there with a sword. Also, it didn’t help that her newly-discovered son had literally been in the hospital, and Storybrooke’s lack of a decent gym – she had needed some way to release her frustration, and Maleficent was a dragon, and she had a sword. She thought she was justified for that one, at least.
So, no one she could think of. No one she knew specifically wanted her dead. Surely that was some sort of record, that she didn’t immediately recognise who wanted to kill her today?
She sized the thing up, keeping a safe distance, hand on her gun holstered in her pocket. Of course, she had forgotten her sword in the car. When you, as the Sheriff, receive a noise complaint from deep in the woods, you think about what trivial things it could be – an animal, a fallen tree, maybe some of the older kids from the school around the corner creating a ruckus, but a winged wolf?? She really didn’t want to be here, not doing these things – she wondered why she had even taken up Graham’s offer to be Deputy all those moments ago. And then she remembered Graham, and her desperate need for some sort of tether to Storybrooke, to the town, to keep her in her son’s life, and she stopped the train of thought as quick as it came.
It’s teeth were still bared. She did her best not to move, hardly breathing, hand still on her gun, and she waited. She wanted it to strike first. This may not be a person, but at least she’d be able to claim self-defence if this was someone’s pet – not that it was legal. She was pretty sure it wasn’t legal. She should really brush up on Storybrooke’s laws, considering she was the one supposed to uphold them.
And then it did, and holy shit it was fast. And it fucking hurt, too, when its teeth clamped down on her leg, too fast for her to pull away, too fast for her to react- she could feel blood trickling down her leg, and when she finally got her bearings and realised, “hey, I have a gun I could be using!!”, she pulled it from her holster and shot.
The creature made a noise half-way between a howl and a snarl, unlatching from her flesh and finally putting its wings to use – flapping hard to reach halfway up a tree to nurse its wounds.
She’d managed to shoot it in the side, and was silently impressed, since she had made the shot running on adrenaline, and the shock of pain.
Well shit. She looked down at the bite mark on her leg, trickling blood through her light blue skinny jeans – the blood was obvious, but at least it had compression?? She still had adrenaline pumping through her veins, so she assumed she would feel the pain later. All she felt now was the wetness of the blood, and the searing disappointment that came with being overwhelmed.
She couldn’t spend too much time looking down, though – the beast was above her and if she left herself unguarded for too long, she would be finished.
The beast – it was a hybrid, she remembered, a mix between two animals to create something stronger. Genetic mutation was Whale’s thing… Whale was an asshole, that much could be deducted from a single conversation with the man, but he wouldn’t go as far as sending his weird little creatures after her, would he? She’d threatened him about the topic enough times that he shouldn’t have even thought about making anything in the first place, and… despite how creepy he was, she found herself trusting him – her superpower never lied.
It lunged again, but she was slightly more prepared this time – she shot at it at the same time that it got to her skin, its crushing teeth piercing into her arm just as she hit it in the head.
It seemed to be…. invincible, though – it reacted to the shot to the brain in the same way that it did the shot to the side, with a pained howl, and an angry snarl. How could she kill it if it didn’t react to being shot at? Through the head??
Damn, ouch, she felt that one. Again, blood flowed, and all she could do was laugh.
The adrenaline was numbing her body, and she couldn’t really feel the pain she knew that was likely emanating through the limb – both of her limbs, neither that are burning as harshly as they should be.
The wolf-dragon being yowled again, moving back, seeming to forget that it had wings. They dragged limply behind it as it snarled, trotting away, keeping it’s eyes on her. Emma looked down at her arm – bleeding through her red leather jacket. Her favourite red leather jacket, torn to shreds by this creature.
She shot at it again, this time unprompted – because hey, if the beast could attack her jacket without waiting it for strike first, then self-defence laws be damned – and watched as the blood flowed from the creatures flesh this time. She felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the sight.
Then something happened that she hadn’t really been expecting.
Emma Swan is nothing if not observant. If not quiet, and watchful. Well, most of the time, anyway. So the fact that she hadn’t clocked this sooner wasn’t exactly in character.
The hybrid’s tail was another part of their dragon genetics – long, scaly, and acted like a sick sort of whip. Again, she would be intrigued, if it wasn’t currently trying to kill, or at least mortally injure her.
It’s tail flicked out at her as it tried to nurse it’s wounds, and because she wasn’t anticipating it, it made a direct contact. Her body went sailing through the air, like a less-than-majestic Swan she had been named after, and came crashing down into a nearby tree – the cons of fighting in a dense forest, it was easy to hit your head, and since trees were pretty solid, it was bound to fucking hurt. She sat up as quickly as she could – which turned out to be not very fast, when you’ve just been knocked about by a freak of nature – trying to keep eyes on the beast as much as possible. She didn’t want it to get the upper hand, much less actually get another hit in on her.
Only then did she realise how hard she had hit her head. The world tilted as she tried to get her body to function properly, and her haphazard first-aid training kicked in as she attempted to figure out what the hell was going on with her.
Hit to the head, disorientation, lack of balance – typical concussion symptoms.
This beast played dirty, affecting her cognitive function, intentionally or not. Could it be sentient? Was there anyway that that could be possible, even with the genetic mutations? Could an animal grow a conscious? Well, she could hardly spend much time pondering it when the danger was still directly in front of her, trying to be rid of the blood, and probably the bullets, in its flesh and fur.
She couldn’t think. All she could see was green and brown, all she could smell was copper, and… green. To be honest, there wasn’t much in her head that wasn’t green.
She hears another growl, and she sits up – she forces her head up, and she looks at it, right in the eye – trying to intimidate it right back.
It, instead, lunged, biting her right in the arm. Again. The same arm, too. Her right arm was bloody and practically useless at her side, because even though her brain hadn’t really processed the pain yet, her body could definitely feel it. It pulled away this time, seemingly anticipating the shot from her gun again. Luckily for the bastard trying to kill her, she had dropped her gun when she was literally chucked across the forest by it’s freakishly strong tail.
She used the tree to support her as she stood, eyeing the creature carefully. It had moved away again, teeth bared – it looked quite menacing for a beast with 2 gunshot wounds about it’s body.
She saw her gun, and the hybrid didn’t make a move for it or her when she picked it up.
When she had a hold of her gun again, she fired, twice, the noise hurting her ears and ringing through her already aching head – it hurt, it really hurt a lot, but she didn’t complain because she had a job to do.
After a long and gruelling few more minutes, the beast collapsed to the floor in a bullet-riddled heap. She felt a sick sense of satisfaction, watching it’s steaming corpse.
Once she was sure the beast was fully dead, she sighed. Collapsing herself against a tree, trying to gain her bearings – everything hurt, and she was bleeding from a few places. It hurt now, adrenaline slowly seeping from her bones as she tried to keep herself standing. She was strong, stronger than this, so she forced herself forward.
Using the trees to support herself, she moved back towards her Bug. Her Bug, her little safe haven. Sure, she had stolen it all those years ago, but it didn’t really matter to her. Once she had gotten her Bug, she hadn’t spent any more nights on the streets. It had been her place, she hadn’t let anyone else inside in a while. Not since Neal.
Until Henry, but Henry was a special case. For her son, she’d break her rules, because she knew he’d (probably) respect her traditions, if they were anything alike.
Luckily, she hadn’t had to go very far into the woods to find the source of the noise complaint, only a few minutes walk – making it easier for her to get out and find her beloved car again.
And inside her car was a phone. And that phone contained a very specific phone number, which she immediately dialled as soon as she had practically fallen into the drivers seat of her car – only briefly worrying about the upholstery.
The phone only rang once before Regina’s voice rang out on the other side, a smile obvious in her voice. She contrasted Emma so beautifully.
“Good evening, darling. I’m just leaving the office, so I’ll be home to you soon. Why are you calling?” she asked in that familiar, silky smooth voice of hers that makes the blonde melt, even if it’s over the phone. Suddenly, she doesn’t hurt so much any more, and the pains in her head are slightly soothed. She loves her girlfriend.
“Evenin’, love.” she responded, and only then did she realise how rough her voice sounded – lightly from the brutal beating she had just received from that weird mythological type creature. “I was just calling to say, uh…” she momentarily loses her train of thought before she’s back on track again. “I might be home late… for dinner.” she finally spits out, breathing heavier than before at the exertion of simply talking. Everything hurts.
Regina’s voice switches up immediately, from relaxed to almost panicked – though she masks her fear well.
“Where are you, dear? I just want to make sure you’re alright.” the words spill out, thick and quick, as of the quicker she got the question out, the quicker she would get an answer. She could tell, even over the phone, that Emma wasn’t well, or that she was hurt very badly. She could hear it in the slight slur to her words, the heavier breathing the mic had picked up. All she needed was a location.
“I’m somewhere near the, uh… the town sign? In the Bug.” she sighed softly, sounding almost dreamy as her next words register to Regina. “I’m getting tired, which isn’t a great sign.”
“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” the older woman commanded, before the phone line went dead. Emma didn’t even have time to worry about it, because she heard the familiar ‘whoosh’ of magic usage, and suddenly Regina was storming towards the car, looking thunderous and concerned all at once.
She pulled open the driver’s side door, and then knelt down in front of the bleeding blonde, eyes scanning her fast to take in her injuries. Emma feels the familiar flood of magic overwhelm her system as Regina starts to speed up the healing process.
The brunette takes the blonde’s cheek in her hand, and smiles at her dazed girlfriend with as much reassurance as she can muster.
“You’re alright, my love. You’ll be okay.”
Emma just sighed, leaning into the contact like a happy kitten.
“You always make everything okay.”