A Neverland Tale - HOOKED (eng)

Chapter 1.8 - Capt. J. Hook

Hooks POV

Again, something held him back and stopped the answer Hook would normally have given to a lost person. No, normally the kid would already be dead, at least after that remark. Anyone who didn't command respect might as well hang himself from the main mast, in his opinion. But what the fellow said actually occupied the captain's mind for a while. Claiming respect from a lost man? It didn't add up. These kids lacked a sense of recognition as well as humility in equal measure, they were impetuous, brash, and acted rashly and impulsively. However...not this one. On the other hand, what could you believe in a lost person? Especially when a fellow imagined stealing his coat and getting away with it? As if the very name of James Hook wasn't menacing enough to send a cold shiver down the listeners' spines?
'A horned demon. How do you know you're not looking at one? '
He did not speak it, but the cold look from icy eyes said enough.


Determined, he took a step forward, half expecting the fellow to react in sync, but... he had no eyes at his back. It jerked quietly as the desk opened unyieldingly behind the boy, blocking his escape route. 'Did you think you knew your way around this place better than I do?' Trapped between the desk and the saber, there weren't many escape options for the boy, so he held still as Hook forced him to stretch his neck above the blade. Blue eyes flashed fiery at him. Fiery? Dense brows drew together as the captain regarded his prey thoughtfully, gauging the situation. It didn't seem to frighten him, or rather to fuel something else, something stronger. By all means, Hook knew the will to survive of many doomed men and had seen the last spark of hope on which they ignited unexpected resistance. But in the end, they all realized at some point that their situation was hopeless. This child was either too naive, too new to see his predicament, or... brave but stupid. Between them, the air thinned for a moment, as if the moment froze into ice, held forever in the glass frame of a snow globe. It passed, grazing the souls of James Hook and Luke with cool fingers and leaving them to their own devices again.

"Neverland is full of beauty. Maybe you've lost sight of it?" (Luke)

His eyes narrowed, small steel splinters colliding with each other in the icy storm of cool irises, forming sharp-edged jags that mercilessly cut through any courage if you let them intimidate you too long. Hook could not deny that some things were more bearable. There was the play of flowers in the harsh wind of the forest, and the rustling of leaves bending under heavy raindrops. There was the picturesque sight of the Neverseas, kissed awake by a blood-red morning, or the cheers of the crew after a battle won. There was also the feel of sharp steel in one's hands, freshly ground, polished, and finished to a high standard... one's initials embossed in gold letters on gray metal, perhaps the power over life and death... reduced to a second. Things that made a life here, well, more interesting. Things that made sure you didn't become completely numb... that put some life back into your chest. But by no means was a reason to ascribe more to this patch of land than was necessary. In one fluid motion, he ran his hook over his beard, then Captain Hook raised his eyes again to the trembling scarecrow.

"Well... actually, that's commendable for your taste, isn't it?" (...) "The story wasn't good enough I feel...?" (...) "But you know... you're right. It was pretty stupid... now that I think about it..."(Luke).

With narrowed eyes and extremely suspicious, he watched as the fellow clumsily slipped into the coat. Crocodiles, mermaids, jumping off a cliff? Ha, probably everything would have ended more smoothly for him than the captain's cabin of the Jolly Roger.
'Even stupider than I thought.'
Pan probably really just wanted to get rid of the little guy. A shame about the little life, but whoever tried to grab the red brocade had to reckon with the consequences. Disparagingly, he eyed the child, watching as thick fabric lay heavily over the lanky shoulders, pushing them down rather than underlining them. Plump and much too large, the brocade folded around the gaunt body and hung over his hands even at the arms. No, the coat was made for a man like Hook. Someone with broad shoulders and the stamina needed at sea not to capsize or to stay on course. Someone who could grip hard and whose blows could be deadly the first time. Not a boy who was just beginning to collect calluses on his fingers.
"You should have chosen the crocodiles," he grumbled sullenly.
So engrossed in his thought processes, Hook was momentarily distracted and with the two steps the lad took sideways he noticed a heartbeat too late.