Lost Boys of London [EN]

Chapter 8 - Hook or Pan

"He swore this terrible oath:

Hook or me this time."

- Peter Pan, JM Barrie - 

A sharp blade passed across his right hand, cutting through skin, muscle, and sinew-like paper down to the bone. He hadn't even seen the bastard in the shadows. Hook let out a bloodcurdling scream that mingled with the loud, triumphant crowing from Pan's throat. Blood gushed from the wound, his arm and fingers spasming with pain and shock. Searing pain shot into his senses as his fingers first tingled and then went numb.

Out of reflex, he dropped the lantern. Glass shattered on the floor. The light flickered and warred, and the shadows danced wildly on the walls. Wild and uncoordinated by the pain, Hook lashed out at Pan, who nimbly leaped out of his reach.

Hook could barely see in the gloomy, dim light. Sheer anger and the loss of blood made black spots dance before his eyes. The lantern light hit bright green eyes and revealed a glimpse of a spirit consumed by hellfire. Hook's blood dripped from the knife's sharp blade onto the ground, where it fell onto dry leaves.

The vast and twisted grin on the fellow's filthy face was manic and far from remorseful. Then Pan let out an crazy and vile laugh, jumped onto a small ledge inside the tree, and pulled himself upwards to a branch hole.

"I'm gonna catch you, you rotten bastard!" Hook thundered into the darkness.

A gunshot went off, and Hook narrowly missed the killer. Pan slipped out through a hole in the trunk and, cursing; the captain rushed out of the entrance between the roots. With a trembling hand, he untied his cravat and roughly bandaged his bleeding hand with it. Nausea pressed in his stomach, but the adrenaline kept him upright and suppressed the alarming pain.

More shots were suddenly fired. The other constables had also seen the rascal fleeing. Hook made his way through the thicket and sprinted after the fugitive.
With everything his legs and lungs could muster, the captain sprinted after Pan. Although barefoot, Pan seemed to fly over the meadows, sticks, and stones as his laughter rolled into the night.

Shots thundered over and over again. Hook's heart hammered violently in his chest. It was burning from exhaustion, yet he forced himself to keep running. Pan fled across the lawns, between groves of trees, over flat brickwork, and along the gravel paths with no apparent destination.

Suddenly they reached the stony Serenity Bridge, which spanned a large lake. A swarm of Ravens flew to the sky, their cawing mingling with loud shouts, gunshots, and the shrill sound of police whistles. When Hook had almost reached him, Pan abruptly jumped onto the stone railing of the bridge.

The captain drew the police baton, for the barrel of his revolver had long since been emptied. Pan's sharp blade flashed menacingly as it struck the wood of the police truncheon. The exchange of blows that followed became a crescendo of faster and faster thrusts and slashes. Wood splintered, Hook roared, and Pan laughed like a madman. As if it was all just a game.

But then Hook grappled Pan's hand holding the knife and punched him in the face with the bat. The expression on Pan's features shifted, turning cold, and the mask of childish amusement shattered. It revealed the inky black madness behind it as Pan abruptly let out a loud roar and pushed Hook backward with all his might.

The captain lost his balance, and the world spun as he plunged into the icy water.

 There, the cold and deep darkness of the pitch-black pool engulfed him.