Categories > Movies > Descendants > Reckless Paradise
Quinn woke to the sound of fighting and opened her eyes to see that it was light. Staying as quiet as she could, she peeked around the trash cans.
Two boys, ten or eleven years old, were in the middle of a fistfight, egged on by a group of kids about their age. Once one was thrown to the ground and held down for a certain amount of time, the group split in two and parted ways.
The streets were bustling, a strange type of colourful. It wasn’t like the markets in Auradon Central, with their brightly coloured booths and flower decorations, but had its own charm. The colours ranged farther – darker – like the Underground, and Quinn marvelled at all the unique clothing and hairstyles. There was leather and denim and studs, and dreadlocks and mohawks and hair in all the colours of the rainbow.
Vendors aggressively called out their wares and haggled with customers. Everything had an air of tension to it. Clenched fists, holding bags tight, ready for a fight.
They did seem to be exchanging Auradanian money, so Quinn went up to a man selling bread.
“How much for a loaf?” she asked.
“Eight bucks,” said the man.
“Eight bucks?” she exclaimed. The woman ahead of her had gotten it for four bucks. “That’s double the regular price!”
“Six then,” he said.
She was about to protest, but then she saw a little boy, probably about seven or eight, run up to the man. “Papa?” he said, tugging at his sleeve.
“Good enough,” Quinn muttered, pressing the money into his hand and leaving quickly with the bread.
Eating her way through the entire loaf, Quinn wandered around the market. She listened to people’s conversations as she passed, trying to figure out who the major players on the Isle were.
She knew that Maleficent was the self-proclaimed and undisputed leader, but there seemed to be specific groups under her. They had varying amounts of power and were in constant conflict with each other. Various names were thrown about: the Queens, the Defiant Doom, the Innocents, etc.
Quinn knew she had to make an alliance if she was to survive, so she tried to figure out which gang seemed to be the most appealing. The Defiant Doom sounded powerful, so she listened carefully to any mention of it.
“... Tukafotana and his Defiant Doom were in action tonight.”
Her ears perked up and she casually sidled closer to the voices.
“Yeah, well, what do you expect? Genevieve, Georgitte and their girls have been pushing the border for weeks.”
“Their victory was surprising, though.”
“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see how long that lasts.”
“Ha, yeah. Better avoid Tuka’s shop anyway though, he’ll be celebrating.”
Slipping away before they saw her, she smiled a little. This Tukafotana seemed to be a good idea for an ally. He and his gang seemed to be fairly prominent and successful. And if he was in a good mood today, perhaps he would be more open to a new ally.
•••
Quinn stood in the alley beside the Defiant Doom’s hideout. She took a few deep breaths, psyching herself up. “Come on,” she muttered to herself. “You’ve got this.” She opened her eyes and said to the empty air in front of her. “I would like to see Tukafotana about an alliance. Or, maybe, about joining the Defiant Doom.” She took a breath. “I could be beneficial to your gang: I am stealthy, good at climbing and have experience in hand-to-hand combat as well as combat with weapons.” She sighed. “It’s just like a job interview, and at least they taught us how to do those.”
Squaring her shoulders, Quinn stepped out onto the street.
And bumped right into someone.
Biting back an apology, she stepped back to see who she had bumped into. It was a guy, looking to be around nineteen or twenty, with shoulder-length black hair and an arrogant smile.
“You would watch where you’re going, love,” he said in a charming accent.
Daughter of a villain, she reminded herself. “You should watch where you’re going.” She paused. “And don’t call me love.” She tried to push past him, but he wouldn’t move.
Quinn glared at him. “Move, ple –” she stopped herself. “I’m in a hurry.”
“To make an ally of Tukafotana?” he asked quietly, his smirk widening.
Fiddling with the edge of her denim jacket, Quinn chastised herself. An out-loud pep-talk hadn’t been the best idea.
“You know,” he said, leaning as though he was telling her a secret. “Letting everyone hear your nefarious plan is not a great idea.”
“My plan isn’t nefarious!” Quinn exclaimed. “It’s purely diplomatic.”
His eyebrows rose.
Quinn cleared her throat quickly. “Anyway, whatever my plans are, they are none of your business.” She pushed past him – successfully this time – and walked toward the front door.
“You know,” he was beside her again and he slung an arm over her shoulder. “I would make a much better ally than Tuka.”
Frustrated, Quinn shoved his arm away and turned to him. “Oh yeah? Who are you, anyway?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” With a dramatic bow, he said. “I am Jax. The Magnificent.”
It was Quinn’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “The Magnificent? Aren’t we presumptuous?”
He grinned. “And you are?”
“Not interested in an alliance.” She turned around again, but Jax jumped in front of her.
“You’re pretty good at comebacks for someone from Auradon.”
Quinn froze, staring wide-eyed at him. She thought she had been doing so well. Trying to collect herself, she scoffed, “From Auradon? What are you talking about?”
“You’ve done a good job hiding it, I’ll admit, but I can tell.”
She tried desperately to think of a response but came up blank.
“Now tell me, who are you really?”
Realizing that she had no choice but to tell him and hope to have an ally in him, Quinn led them into the next alley.
“Okay, fine, I grew up in Auradon, but I belong here.” She paused. “My father is Starkey. You probably don’t know him, he’s –”
“Captain Hook’s first mate,” Jax finished. His expression had changed, and he now looked quite serious.
“What?” she asked. “Do you know him?”
Jax looked around. “We should go somewhere less public.” He looked back at her. “Why don’t we get a drink?”
•••
When Jax had suggested that they grab a drink, Quinn had thought coffee, but apparently, that wasn’t what he meant. Once they were seated at a small table in the back corner of the bar, he ordered two beers.
“I’m not old enough to drink,” Quinn protested, but Jax waved it away.
“Neither am I, technically. But I’m not one for technicalities,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Quinn,” she said.
The corner of his mouth rose a little. “Well, Quinn, you have acquired yourself an ally.”
Quinn frowned. It couldn’t be that easy. “Why?”
He hesitated for a moment, but said, “Because my father is Captain Hook, and I take loyalty to one’s crew very seriously.”
She nodded but still was not sure she could trust him. The isolated table they sat at, half-hidden by a plant, and the way he glanced around every so often made her a little nervous.
“So,” he leaned back in his chair. “What can you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, your skills.”
“Uh, well, I’m pretty good at archery and quarterstaff and generally getting around without being seen.”
His eyebrows rose. “They teach that to the heroes and royalty of Auradon?”
She smiled a little. “No, my dad – my adoptive dad – he was one of Robin Hood’s men. We’re a bit unorthodox.”
“Well, thank goodness for that, or else you’d be useless.”
“Thank you, I think,” Quinn said, laughing a little. She liked how everyone seemed to get to the point around here; there were no pretenses, no beating around the bush.
He swigged down the last of his beer. “Well, you’re gonna need some Isle basics before you meet the Crew.”
“The Crew?”
“My gang.”
“Right.”
•••
“Come on, Quinn,” Jax said.
Quinn groaned and got up from the ground, rubbing her arm. They had been training for the past half hour and already she had lost count of how many times Jax had managed – quite easily – to throw her to the ground.
“How am I supposed to fight back if you won’t show me how?” she asked.
“You have to have the instinct to fight back before I can teach you anything.”
“I have the instinct to fight back,” she insisted.
He threw a punch, which she quickly dodged and then stepped back.
He sighed. “No, you have the instinct to avoid conflict.”
“Sorry,” she said quickly.
He threw another punch and this time Quinn put up her arms to block it and pushed it out of the way.
“Better,” he said. “Also, don’t apologize.”
“Ever?” she asked in surprise.
“Ever,” he punched again, hitting her arm – not extremely hard, but it still hurt. She winced and rubbed the spot.
“Don’t show weakness,” he reprimanded. “Don’t say please and thank you. Take what you need, ‘cause no one is going to give it to you.”
He threw another punch and Quinn dodged it and tried to punch back. Of course, he blocked it easily and threw her to the ground. He stood over her and Quinn expected him to help her up, but he did not. She quickly hopped to her feet and took a defensive stance.
He looked her up and down. “Well, now the real training begins.”
Two boys, ten or eleven years old, were in the middle of a fistfight, egged on by a group of kids about their age. Once one was thrown to the ground and held down for a certain amount of time, the group split in two and parted ways.
The streets were bustling, a strange type of colourful. It wasn’t like the markets in Auradon Central, with their brightly coloured booths and flower decorations, but had its own charm. The colours ranged farther – darker – like the Underground, and Quinn marvelled at all the unique clothing and hairstyles. There was leather and denim and studs, and dreadlocks and mohawks and hair in all the colours of the rainbow.
Vendors aggressively called out their wares and haggled with customers. Everything had an air of tension to it. Clenched fists, holding bags tight, ready for a fight.
They did seem to be exchanging Auradanian money, so Quinn went up to a man selling bread.
“How much for a loaf?” she asked.
“Eight bucks,” said the man.
“Eight bucks?” she exclaimed. The woman ahead of her had gotten it for four bucks. “That’s double the regular price!”
“Six then,” he said.
She was about to protest, but then she saw a little boy, probably about seven or eight, run up to the man. “Papa?” he said, tugging at his sleeve.
“Good enough,” Quinn muttered, pressing the money into his hand and leaving quickly with the bread.
Eating her way through the entire loaf, Quinn wandered around the market. She listened to people’s conversations as she passed, trying to figure out who the major players on the Isle were.
She knew that Maleficent was the self-proclaimed and undisputed leader, but there seemed to be specific groups under her. They had varying amounts of power and were in constant conflict with each other. Various names were thrown about: the Queens, the Defiant Doom, the Innocents, etc.
Quinn knew she had to make an alliance if she was to survive, so she tried to figure out which gang seemed to be the most appealing. The Defiant Doom sounded powerful, so she listened carefully to any mention of it.
“... Tukafotana and his Defiant Doom were in action tonight.”
Her ears perked up and she casually sidled closer to the voices.
“Yeah, well, what do you expect? Genevieve, Georgitte and their girls have been pushing the border for weeks.”
“Their victory was surprising, though.”
“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see how long that lasts.”
“Ha, yeah. Better avoid Tuka’s shop anyway though, he’ll be celebrating.”
Slipping away before they saw her, she smiled a little. This Tukafotana seemed to be a good idea for an ally. He and his gang seemed to be fairly prominent and successful. And if he was in a good mood today, perhaps he would be more open to a new ally.
•••
Quinn stood in the alley beside the Defiant Doom’s hideout. She took a few deep breaths, psyching herself up. “Come on,” she muttered to herself. “You’ve got this.” She opened her eyes and said to the empty air in front of her. “I would like to see Tukafotana about an alliance. Or, maybe, about joining the Defiant Doom.” She took a breath. “I could be beneficial to your gang: I am stealthy, good at climbing and have experience in hand-to-hand combat as well as combat with weapons.” She sighed. “It’s just like a job interview, and at least they taught us how to do those.”
Squaring her shoulders, Quinn stepped out onto the street.
And bumped right into someone.
Biting back an apology, she stepped back to see who she had bumped into. It was a guy, looking to be around nineteen or twenty, with shoulder-length black hair and an arrogant smile.
“You would watch where you’re going, love,” he said in a charming accent.
Daughter of a villain, she reminded herself. “You should watch where you’re going.” She paused. “And don’t call me love.” She tried to push past him, but he wouldn’t move.
Quinn glared at him. “Move, ple –” she stopped herself. “I’m in a hurry.”
“To make an ally of Tukafotana?” he asked quietly, his smirk widening.
Fiddling with the edge of her denim jacket, Quinn chastised herself. An out-loud pep-talk hadn’t been the best idea.
“You know,” he said, leaning as though he was telling her a secret. “Letting everyone hear your nefarious plan is not a great idea.”
“My plan isn’t nefarious!” Quinn exclaimed. “It’s purely diplomatic.”
His eyebrows rose.
Quinn cleared her throat quickly. “Anyway, whatever my plans are, they are none of your business.” She pushed past him – successfully this time – and walked toward the front door.
“You know,” he was beside her again and he slung an arm over her shoulder. “I would make a much better ally than Tuka.”
Frustrated, Quinn shoved his arm away and turned to him. “Oh yeah? Who are you, anyway?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” With a dramatic bow, he said. “I am Jax. The Magnificent.”
It was Quinn’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “The Magnificent? Aren’t we presumptuous?”
He grinned. “And you are?”
“Not interested in an alliance.” She turned around again, but Jax jumped in front of her.
“You’re pretty good at comebacks for someone from Auradon.”
Quinn froze, staring wide-eyed at him. She thought she had been doing so well. Trying to collect herself, she scoffed, “From Auradon? What are you talking about?”
“You’ve done a good job hiding it, I’ll admit, but I can tell.”
She tried desperately to think of a response but came up blank.
“Now tell me, who are you really?”
Realizing that she had no choice but to tell him and hope to have an ally in him, Quinn led them into the next alley.
“Okay, fine, I grew up in Auradon, but I belong here.” She paused. “My father is Starkey. You probably don’t know him, he’s –”
“Captain Hook’s first mate,” Jax finished. His expression had changed, and he now looked quite serious.
“What?” she asked. “Do you know him?”
Jax looked around. “We should go somewhere less public.” He looked back at her. “Why don’t we get a drink?”
•••
When Jax had suggested that they grab a drink, Quinn had thought coffee, but apparently, that wasn’t what he meant. Once they were seated at a small table in the back corner of the bar, he ordered two beers.
“I’m not old enough to drink,” Quinn protested, but Jax waved it away.
“Neither am I, technically. But I’m not one for technicalities,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Quinn,” she said.
The corner of his mouth rose a little. “Well, Quinn, you have acquired yourself an ally.”
Quinn frowned. It couldn’t be that easy. “Why?”
He hesitated for a moment, but said, “Because my father is Captain Hook, and I take loyalty to one’s crew very seriously.”
She nodded but still was not sure she could trust him. The isolated table they sat at, half-hidden by a plant, and the way he glanced around every so often made her a little nervous.
“So,” he leaned back in his chair. “What can you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, your skills.”
“Uh, well, I’m pretty good at archery and quarterstaff and generally getting around without being seen.”
His eyebrows rose. “They teach that to the heroes and royalty of Auradon?”
She smiled a little. “No, my dad – my adoptive dad – he was one of Robin Hood’s men. We’re a bit unorthodox.”
“Well, thank goodness for that, or else you’d be useless.”
“Thank you, I think,” Quinn said, laughing a little. She liked how everyone seemed to get to the point around here; there were no pretenses, no beating around the bush.
He swigged down the last of his beer. “Well, you’re gonna need some Isle basics before you meet the Crew.”
“The Crew?”
“My gang.”
“Right.”
•••
“Come on, Quinn,” Jax said.
Quinn groaned and got up from the ground, rubbing her arm. They had been training for the past half hour and already she had lost count of how many times Jax had managed – quite easily – to throw her to the ground.
“How am I supposed to fight back if you won’t show me how?” she asked.
“You have to have the instinct to fight back before I can teach you anything.”
“I have the instinct to fight back,” she insisted.
He threw a punch, which she quickly dodged and then stepped back.
He sighed. “No, you have the instinct to avoid conflict.”
“Sorry,” she said quickly.
He threw another punch and this time Quinn put up her arms to block it and pushed it out of the way.
“Better,” he said. “Also, don’t apologize.”
“Ever?” she asked in surprise.
“Ever,” he punched again, hitting her arm – not extremely hard, but it still hurt. She winced and rubbed the spot.
“Don’t show weakness,” he reprimanded. “Don’t say please and thank you. Take what you need, ‘cause no one is going to give it to you.”
He threw another punch and Quinn dodged it and tried to punch back. Of course, he blocked it easily and threw her to the ground. He stood over her and Quinn expected him to help her up, but he did not. She quickly hopped to her feet and took a defensive stance.
He looked her up and down. “Well, now the real training begins.”
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