The world seems foreign already, like a mouth full of worms. The passengers around me don’t know how I feel; they can’t see the rage burning inside of me, grinding at my humanity as it slips away to some dark place. Sick and lonely, longing for death. How could they know, they haven’t seen what I’ve seen-- haven’t tasted the warm gush of madness upon their lips. They don’t know that I had a name. Once.
~*~
Serenity :: Kitchen :: Mal, Jayne, Zoe
“Sir? You alright?”
Mal looked up from the map spread across the kitchen table, realizing that he had not been paying the closest of attention to the crew’s discussion on their latest job. Frowning, he searched for words for a moment before answering Zoe’s query.
“I’m fine; why wouldn’t I be?”
Zoe just shrugged. “Couldn’t tell ya.”
Jayne, the ever tactful mercenary, decided to supply the group with a possible answer. “Maybe he’s bent out of shape what with visiting his home planet and all. Seeing it all blown up and stuff.”
Mal scowled. “Who’s bent outta shape?” He shoved his chair back from the table and stood to go. “We got a job to do, and it's gettin done hell or high water. Land, pick up the cargo, and leave; this isn’t going to be no trip down memory lane.”
Shadow :: Lone Province :: Mal, Zoe, Jayne
Going home was not at all what Mal expected.
It was worse.
The world seemed full of ghosts, with the faces of dead browncoats lurking around every corner. Mal could practically feel the accusatory glares staring him down whenever he turned away, though in reality the few people left on this now damn near uninhabitable planet were just trying to scrape together a livelihood and likely had no idea who Mal was.
Even so, Mal just wanted to pick up the goram cargo and get the hell out.
Of course, nothing could be simple.
Oh, picking up the cargo was easy enough; right where it was supposed to be, right on time. Too easy, really, and that should have been enough to tell Mal that something was horribly wrong.
“Capt’n? Something gone horribly wrong.”
Ah. There it was. Mal looked to where Jayne was pointing in the sky and let out a stream of cursing that would have made a person with more delicate sensibilities blush as he walked around to the front of the shuttle.
Reavers. There was no mistaking those ships, adorned with their mutilated dead as they were. While the Alliance still debated the human monsters’ existence, out here on the edges there was no denying them.
There was also no worse way to die than at the hands of the Reavers, though death would be the kindest part of an encounter with them. They were once men, or so some said, but they had somehow twisted into something out of the worst of nightmares. Anyone who knew what was what would put a bullet through their brains to avoid capture by the likes of them.
And now they were coming to Shadow.
Mal made a split second decision and did not question his instinct in this matter, though he expected his crew would attribute it to some sentimental attachment to his home and the people in it.
He picked up the radio and gave Wash his orders.
“Reavers. Bring her around; we’ll be getting the folk around here rounded up.”
He turned back in time to see Jayne spit in disgust, making a wet splat on the dry ground, and gritted his teeth against the tirade that was sure to come once they had finished in their task. Zoe was rock solid and impassive as always, and a simple “yes, sir” was the only response from that corner.
Frankly, “yes, sir” was about all he wanted to hear right about now.
He hopped in the shuttle quickly, before he changed his mind.
Serenity :: Loading dock :: All
Mal surveyed the crowd for a moment before making eye contact with Zoe. Now that they were on safer ground, he wondered just what she thought of his judgment call, but after an outburst from Jayne he found he had enough of opinions for a while. At least he could expect wordless compliance from Zoe, even if she did resent the hell out of him for this.
Deciding there was little chance of reading his impassive crew member’s expression, he turned back to the crowd in hopes of telling them how it was. He imagined their rough and narrow escape after being hurriedly ushered into the small craft amidst terror and confusion had shaken them somewhat, but people tended to forget past troubles all too quickly.
“This,” he gestured expansively, “is my ship. These,” another gesture, this time to the crew, “are my crew. You just do what they say and don’t break anything and we’ll all get along just fine. You don’t want to be here, and I don’t much care for the unexpected guests either, let me tell you, but remember this: better here than back there with the Reavers.”
With that little reminder of what they had escaped, Mal continued. “The cargo is off limits to you. That goes for the cockpit as well, and the crew’s quarters. We’re going to get you somewhere safe just as soon as we can; until then, keep your hands to yourself and don’t start no trouble you don’t want me to finish.”
“Now. The chain of command.” Mal spared a sideways grin at his crew, remembering the last time he had explained that the chain of command was the chain he got out when he had to beat people to show who was in command. This group probably didn’t need anything quite so severe.
“My ship is more important than you. My crew is more important than you. My cargo is more important than you.
Any questions?”
Mal reckoned that little speech was enough to clear up any misunderstandings on just what sort of guy he was, but figured he would stick around in case there was any confusion on the matter.
He kept his hand on his gun.
~*~
This ship is different from mine. Mine was decorated with corpses. They made me watch. Like parents to a wayward child, they made me watch, tried to teach me right from wrong. It was right, in the end. My heart thrashing against its frail cage, like a frightened, wounded thing. I couldn’t turn away, I had to see. I had to learn.
I found a new home, and crashed my ship upon it, and now I am on another. We are herded about, like sacred lambs. The lost Prophet, left behind to find the way, bringing offerings of flesh and blood. I am. Reborn.
~*~
Serenity :: Inara’s Shuttle :: Mal, Inara
“You’re in my shuttle.”
“Actually…” Mal put on what he hoped was a charming smirk. Inara did not seem particularly charmed, but then, she was the expert at such things, seeing as how she was a whore and all. “It’s my shuttle. And I have good reason.”
After a moment of withstanding the death glare she was shooting his way, he continued.
“I’d sleep a little easier at night knowing none of our guests were off screaming for the Alliance first chance they got. We got a job to do, and we’re going to get it done hell or high water, and if those people out there can’t sit tight for that we’re going to end up in a world of trouble.”
Inara regarded Mal impassively for a long moment before answering.
“I’ll keep an eye on communications in here if Wash can do the same from where he sits.”
Mal nodded his head, trying not to look too triumphant and failing miserably. “That’d be a kindness. And…” he leaned on one of the supports, trying for an innocent smile this time, “…well, seeing as how your whole job is about knowin’ people, I was thinking maybe you could…just keep an eye on the passengers.”
Inara raised one eyebrow. “Keep an eye on them? Is that what you think I do?”
Shrugging, Mal pushed himself off the support and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, I know what you do.”
After shooting the captain another glare, Inara sighed. “Fine. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
Serenity :: Sick Bay :: Jayne, Doctor
Jayne let out a harsh grunt as he wrapped the bandage around his upper arm, where the bullet had grazed. He would be fine, but getting shot right now was a sight inconvenient considering Mal seemed determined to play girl scout all of a sudden.
And here comes one of the brownies. Great. Jayne gave the passenger, whose name he did not know and did not care to know, a glare, then took out a larger than strictly necessary hunting knife to cut off the bandage, clamping the blade between his teeth when he was finished and looking around for something to hold the now trimmed bandage in place.
The passenger was unimpressed by this display, apparently more interested in the medical equipment than Jayne’s petty antics. Just as Jayne curled up his lip and made to tell his uninvited guest to buzz off, the passenger spoke.
“You’ll want antibiotics. You’ll get infected otherwise.”
With that, the passenger picked up a needle and examined the dispenser for a moment, turning it over and around before taking a vial of fluid and letting it snap into place with a hiss.
Jayne looked extremely doubtful, but remained still, the knife still between his teeth and a perplexed expression on his face. Finally, he gave a shrug, which was enough of a cue for the passenger to approach and administer the shot.
Whatever. As long as he was getting paid.
Serenity :: Cargo Bay :: Mafia
“I reckon we’re in an interesting position. So the question is, what do we aim to do here?”
The impromptu leader of the small group looked around before leaning over the container they were currently surrounding.
“Captain said we’d be making a few stops along the way. I say, first place we can get an uplink we call up the authorities and start dealing.”
“I don’t much care for bargaining when we don’t know what our chips are worth.”
“Not a bad point. Here’s what we do; you’re going to try to get this thing open. You, you’re going to work on finding a way to contact the Alliance, but we’ll wait on telling them anything until we know what we’re dealing with.
Any other details…we’ll take care of when they come.”
~*~
When they come, I'll be ready. Waiting behind lidless eyes. They don't know that I'm a monster, a demon. Just beneath the skin. I fight back the urge to expose it, to cut away the dying flesh and break from this cocoon. It is inside of me, inside of all. It is everywhere and nowhere. They don't know that I'm a monster. They will. They'll see it.
I will raise this ship as though it were my own.
/ooc Alrighty, the mafia for this game will be a group of people who want to turn the ship over to the alliance, the doctor is, well, a doctor, the serial killer is a person gradually turning to a reaver, and the sheriff is going to be 'working' *coughs* with Inara.
Firefly Mafia Scenario
The world seems foreign already, like a mouth full of worms. The passengers around me don’t know how I feel; they can’t see the rage burning inside of me, grinding at my humanity as it slips away to some dark place. Sick and lonely, longing for death. How could they know, they haven’t seen what I’ve seen-- haven’t tasted the warm gush of madness upon their lips. They don’t know that I had a name. Once.
~*~
Serenity :: Kitchen :: Mal, Jayne, Zoe
“Sir? You alright?”
Mal looked up from the map spread across the kitchen table, realizing that he had not been paying the closest of attention to the crew’s discussion on their latest job. Frowning, he searched for words for a moment before answering Zoe’s query.
“I’m fine; why wouldn’t I be?”
Zoe just shrugged. “Couldn’t tell ya.”
Jayne, the ever tactful mercenary, decided to supply the group with a possible answer. “Maybe he’s bent out of shape what with visiting his home planet and all. Seeing it all blown up and stuff.”
Mal scowled. “Who’s bent outta shape?” He shoved his chair back from the table and stood to go. “We got a job to do, and it's gettin done hell or high water. Land, pick up the cargo, and leave; this isn’t going to be no trip down memory lane.”
Shadow :: Lone Province :: Mal, Zoe, Jayne
Going home was not at all what Mal expected.
It was worse.
The world seemed full of ghosts, with the faces of dead browncoats lurking around every corner. Mal could practically feel the accusatory glares staring him down whenever he turned away, though in reality the few people left on this now damn near uninhabitable planet were just trying to scrape together a livelihood and likely had no idea who Mal was.
Even so, Mal just wanted to pick up the goram cargo and get the hell out.
Of course, nothing could be simple.
Oh, picking up the cargo was easy enough; right where it was supposed to be, right on time. Too easy, really, and that should have been enough to tell Mal that something was horribly wrong.
“Capt’n? Something gone horribly wrong.”
Ah. There it was. Mal looked to where Jayne was pointing in the sky and let out a stream of cursing that would have made a person with more delicate sensibilities blush as he walked around to the front of the shuttle.
Reavers. There was no mistaking those ships, adorned with their mutilated dead as they were. While the Alliance still debated the human monsters’ existence, out here on the edges there was no denying them.
There was also no worse way to die than at the hands of the Reavers, though death would be the kindest part of an encounter with them. They were once men, or so some said, but they had somehow twisted into something out of the worst of nightmares. Anyone who knew what was what would put a bullet through their brains to avoid capture by the likes of them.
And now they were coming to Shadow.
Mal made a split second decision and did not question his instinct in this matter, though he expected his crew would attribute it to some sentimental attachment to his home and the people in it.
He picked up the radio and gave Wash his orders.
“Reavers. Bring her around; we’ll be getting the folk around here rounded up.”
He turned back in time to see Jayne spit in disgust, making a wet splat on the dry ground, and gritted his teeth against the tirade that was sure to come once they had finished in their task. Zoe was rock solid and impassive as always, and a simple “yes, sir” was the only response from that corner.
Frankly, “yes, sir” was about all he wanted to hear right about now.
He hopped in the shuttle quickly, before he changed his mind.
Serenity :: Loading dock :: All
Mal surveyed the crowd for a moment before making eye contact with Zoe. Now that they were on safer ground, he wondered just what she thought of his judgment call, but after an outburst from Jayne he found he had enough of opinions for a while. At least he could expect wordless compliance from Zoe, even if she did resent the hell out of him for this.
Deciding there was little chance of reading his impassive crew member’s expression, he turned back to the crowd in hopes of telling them how it was. He imagined their rough and narrow escape after being hurriedly ushered into the small craft amidst terror and confusion had shaken them somewhat, but people tended to forget past troubles all too quickly.
“This,” he gestured expansively, “is my ship. These,” another gesture, this time to the crew, “are my crew. You just do what they say and don’t break anything and we’ll all get along just fine. You don’t want to be here, and I don’t much care for the unexpected guests either, let me tell you, but remember this: better here than back there with the Reavers.”
With that little reminder of what they had escaped, Mal continued. “The cargo is off limits to you. That goes for the cockpit as well, and the crew’s quarters. We’re going to get you somewhere safe just as soon as we can; until then, keep your hands to yourself and don’t start no trouble you don’t want me to finish.”
“Now. The chain of command.” Mal spared a sideways grin at his crew, remembering the last time he had explained that the chain of command was the chain he got out when he had to beat people to show who was in command. This group probably didn’t need anything quite so severe.
“My ship is more important than you. My crew is more important than you. My cargo is more important than you.
Any questions?”
Mal reckoned that little speech was enough to clear up any misunderstandings on just what sort of guy he was, but figured he would stick around in case there was any confusion on the matter.
He kept his hand on his gun.
~*~
This ship is different from mine. Mine was decorated with corpses. They made me watch. Like parents to a wayward child, they made me watch, tried to teach me right from wrong. It was right, in the end. My heart thrashing against its frail cage, like a frightened, wounded thing. I couldn’t turn away, I had to see. I had to learn.
I found a new home, and crashed my ship upon it, and now I am on another. We are herded about, like sacred lambs. The lost Prophet, left behind to find the way, bringing offerings of flesh and blood. I am. Reborn.
~*~
Serenity :: Inara’s Shuttle :: Mal, Inara
“You’re in my shuttle.”
“Actually…” Mal put on what he hoped was a charming smirk. Inara did not seem particularly charmed, but then, she was the expert at such things, seeing as how she was a whore and all. “It’s my shuttle. And I have good reason.”
After a moment of withstanding the death glare she was shooting his way, he continued.
“I’d sleep a little easier at night knowing none of our guests were off screaming for the Alliance first chance they got. We got a job to do, and we’re going to get it done hell or high water, and if those people out there can’t sit tight for that we’re going to end up in a world of trouble.”
Inara regarded Mal impassively for a long moment before answering.
“I’ll keep an eye on communications in here if Wash can do the same from where he sits.”
Mal nodded his head, trying not to look too triumphant and failing miserably. “That’d be a kindness. And…” he leaned on one of the supports, trying for an innocent smile this time, “…well, seeing as how your whole job is about knowin’ people, I was thinking maybe you could…just keep an eye on the passengers.”
Inara raised one eyebrow. “Keep an eye on them? Is that what you think I do?”
Shrugging, Mal pushed himself off the support and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, I know what you do.”
After shooting the captain another glare, Inara sighed. “Fine. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
Serenity :: Sick Bay :: Jayne, Doctor
Jayne let out a harsh grunt as he wrapped the bandage around his upper arm, where the bullet had grazed. He would be fine, but getting shot right now was a sight inconvenient considering Mal seemed determined to play girl scout all of a sudden.
And here comes one of the brownies. Great. Jayne gave the passenger, whose name he did not know and did not care to know, a glare, then took out a larger than strictly necessary hunting knife to cut off the bandage, clamping the blade between his teeth when he was finished and looking around for something to hold the now trimmed bandage in place.
The passenger was unimpressed by this display, apparently more interested in the medical equipment than Jayne’s petty antics. Just as Jayne curled up his lip and made to tell his uninvited guest to buzz off, the passenger spoke.
“You’ll want antibiotics. You’ll get infected otherwise.”
With that, the passenger picked up a needle and examined the dispenser for a moment, turning it over and around before taking a vial of fluid and letting it snap into place with a hiss.
Jayne looked extremely doubtful, but remained still, the knife still between his teeth and a perplexed expression on his face. Finally, he gave a shrug, which was enough of a cue for the passenger to approach and administer the shot.
Whatever. As long as he was getting paid.
Serenity :: Cargo Bay :: Mafia
“I reckon we’re in an interesting position. So the question is, what do we aim to do here?”
The impromptu leader of the small group looked around before leaning over the container they were currently surrounding.
“Captain said we’d be making a few stops along the way. I say, first place we can get an uplink we call up the authorities and start dealing.”
“I don’t much care for bargaining when we don’t know what our chips are worth.”
“Not a bad point. Here’s what we do; you’re going to try to get this thing open. You, you’re going to work on finding a way to contact the Alliance, but we’ll wait on telling them anything until we know what we’re dealing with.
Any other details…we’ll take care of when they come.”
~*~
When they come, I'll be ready. Waiting behind lidless eyes. They don't know that I'm a monster, a demon. Just beneath the skin. I fight back the urge to expose it, to cut away the dying flesh and break from this cocoon. It is inside of me, inside of all. It is everywhere and nowhere. They don't know that I'm a monster. They will. They'll see it.
I will raise this ship as though it were my own.
/ooc Alrighty, the mafia for this game will be a group of people who want to turn the ship over to the alliance, the doctor is, well, a doctor, the serial killer is a person gradually turning to a reaver, and the sheriff is going to be 'working' *coughs* with Inara.
Verileah
19 years ago