sail3695

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Truth-enstein?

“So, how we doin’?” Booth leaned through the kitchen door. “Doc getcha all fixed up?”

“Not a doctor yet,” Moshe applied the final wraps of the cast. “Stop it, Uncle Lenny!” he laughed as the attorney gave his hair a good tousling. “From what I can see, the medic on that boat you rode here took care of business. All I had to do was set up the cast.”

Yuri nodded. “I thought that as well. Nice to hear you say it, though.” He watched as the med student squeezed a tube above his arm, leaving a heavy stream of thick goop that was soon to be smeared into the wrappings. Moshe looked to be roughly his age. Behind the black framed glasses and intern’s lab coat, the family resemblance to “Uncle Lenny” was unmistakable.

“Finished,” Moshe proclaimed as he removed his gloves. “Now we let this cure for about ten minutes before we reapply the sling. How does it feel?”

“Warm.”

“That’s the curing process.” Moshe cleared the remnants of his work from the table. “Where’s Dad?”

The attorney stepped in. “His study…finishing breakfast.”

“Shiny,” the young medic made for the door. “Back in a few ticks.”

Booth sat across from Yuri. “Good kid,” he said of his nephew. “Had a rough patch there around seventeen…I did a little pro bono work for the rabbi to clear his record, and now look at him!”

The mechanic studied his new cast. “You and your family have done so much for me,” he shook his head. “This cast, hiding me in a synagogue overnight, and the food! Oh my god!”

The lawyer patted the beginnings of his paunch. “Hadassah can cook alright. She’s decided that if she can’t get me married off, the least she can do is fatten me up like my brother.” He leaned forward, elbows propped upon the checkered table cloth. “So…I had a friendly little chat with your boss…DeVillers? Really charming guy.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Yuri grunted.

“Yeah, you’re reading him alright. We’ve got a meet scheduled in a couple hours. Now here’s what’s gonna happen. Right about now, your company’s source box jockeys are finishing the address trace. I’m conjuring we got about ten ticks before the gorillas in the suits show up on either end of the block.”

The younger man’s brow furrowed. “Would they force their way in?”

Booth waved a hand. “Nah. Temple Shalom Khao Yai has cultivated a…symbiotic relationship…with the local Five-Oh. Anyway, we’re gonna march right out the front door with a couple uniforms. They’ll make with the lights and sirens on the way to my office, where a few of my associates will hang out to keep things serene…capiche?”

Yuri gave a dull nod. “This feels like a gangster movie.”

The attorney chuckled. “Count your lucky stars on that one, boyo. If we’d been tryin’ to dodge the local O.G? They’d still be hosing us off the pavement. Corporate contracts like this call for discretion, not to mention some legit sounding ex military types with all the bona fides. And that,” Booth smiled, “is what makes ‘em predictable. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be sitting here getting fat on Hadassah Büdenstein’s cooking.”

Yuri gave a curious tilt of his head. “Büdenstein? She’s your sister-in-law, no? It’s not Booth?”

“Shortened my name,” Lenny rose from his chair. “Salesmanship, my man! ‘Booth the Truth’ is something your average defendant can remember.” Sensing the younger’s skepticism, he added, “You try to make a catchy slogan with ‘Büdenstein’ that doesn’t remind people about dead bodies and electrodes in the neck. Now go on and make yourself pretty for the meeting.”

The mechanic obeyed, slipping his newly hardened cast into the sling before rising to leave. At the kitchen door, Yuri paused to offer a wry grin. “How’s this? Lenny Büdenstein, Attorney at Law…It’s alive?”

“Don’t sell the tool kit yet, kid.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

As long as you're having fun, your humble hosts are content. Now back to our regularly scheduled episode.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Happy New Year from the cargo bay!

Now that we're mostly undecorated and getting over our sugar comas, we thought a little refresher on where we are might be in order.

It's currently Day 2 in game time. Here's what I know:

The Skyes are away in their shuttle, working a job that won't see their return until late tonight.
Cap'n and Pen have a meeting with Hafez Nadal to get the word on China Doll's next job.
Later, Alana and Cal are planning an escape.
Not sure what Hook's got in mind for the day.
Father Collins is fishing for leads in one of Greenleaf's local establishments.
Yuri and his Niska appointed shuttle chaser square off with the suits.
Abby's doing Abby things most of her time on Greenleaf. She's available.

Thus, Day 2.

QUESTION: Everyone seemed to like the AU fun we had in OOC. The "hard stop" last night left a few of you with stories to tell. Would you like us to create/manage a Gdoc to permit AU Firefly stories to continue?

That's everything for now...except to offer each of you wishes for a Happy and Safe New Year.

wolf and sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Anthem - (That’s a Wrap, Part 2)

Who needs coffee when you’ve got a 5:00 AM face plunge into ice water?

“Girl,” Rene cocked an eyebrow as she coaxed Morgan from the sink, “tell me you got some sleep last night?”

It was good that the makeup artist didn’t wait for the actor’s first performance of the day. Morgan’s words immediately snuffed out as a hot towel covered her face. “I got a few hours,” she lied.

Rene shook her head. “Mmm, mmm, mmm,” she placed a judgmental hand upon her hip. “That mouth says ‘yes,’ but those bags under your eyes say ‘huh uh.’ I’ma tell Summer…she will so give you ‘the look.’ Good thing I brought my bag of tricks."

The girl smiled nervously as she settled back into the chair. “I’m sure I’ll get busted any minute.” As Rene set to work her art, Morgan glanced over the swath of photos taped to the mirror. Summer gazed back, her expression neutral through the series of closeups detailing her makeup. The two women were a match for height and body type. Summer had colored her hair to match Morgan’s reddish hue. She noted the difference in their faces…Summer’s jawline was a bit more rounded, and Morgan realized that her nose was more of a button, where that of her dance coach and on camera double had more graceful lines. “How’d she do?” she asked.

Rene pulled back, admiring her work. “I missed the dailies…had Donald in the chair for a night scene, but I heard Summer rocked it…hmmm.” She rummaged through her kit, frowning. “I’m a little short on your base. Gimme a sec to grab more from the van.”

“Sure.” The makeup artist dashed out of the room, leaving Morgan and her stomach full of butterflies. She pondered her fears as the confident eyes of Summer gazed back from the photo set. It’s not Abby, the actor mused. I can wear her like my own skin. Maybe it’s how this scene connects? Or how it doesn’t? She knew the script, knew the blocking and moves. She understood the overall surreal nature, which could be the actual sticking point for a girl as grounded as Abigail Travis. She’d listened to “Pipe Dream” so many times in rehearsals that she could make her marks. But could Abby? The character hooks were easily adopted, but for the life of her, Morgan had yet to find ‘that thing’ which would tie this scene directly to the soul of China Doll’s youngest crewmember.

As she sought her answer through Summer’s image, her hip pocket vibrated. Good thing Rene’s not here, Morgan smirked at the makeup artist’s “no phones!” rule. She fished the iPhone from the pocket of her sweats, then blanched when she saw Edgar’s name on the text.

When I listen to the lyrics, I hear a young woman discovering her personal anthem. What does Abby hear? E.

Morgan knew them by heart. She’d pored over the lyrics, industriously saddling important words and phrases with Summer’s precise choreography. She’d done the work, graduating from the timed mechanics to the addition of more graceful, fluid efforts. The music flowed through her.

As was often the case, Abby’s observations could knock her right off her pins. ”I ain’t heard no words.”

Morgan’s jaw fell open. After these months…the absolute immersion to give this character a living, breathing persona…she’d totally left Abby’s feelings out of the scene altogether. She’d failed in her job as an actor…more important, as a host to this character. Sorry, Abby, she gave silent reply as the earbuds came out from her pocket. I’ll fix that right now.

With Abby settling into her skin once more, Morgan called the song onto her phone. For the first time, they shared the music, listening together as the lyrics struck home.

”Well if it feels good then do it,
Don’t let nobody shake you down…”

The music pulsed through them. A smile rose to Morgan’s lips. “What do you think?” she asked.

Abby’s head bobbed gently as she listened. “Yeah,” she answered. “I cotton tah this.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Stowaway

Nothin’ quite so nice as a hot shower.

Abby let ‘er head loll as the jets hit twixt her shoulderblades. The water tumbled down her back, steamin’ hot as it rolled down ever’ part ‘o’ her. Curious fingers made their way tah her wound, an’ ain’t no doubt she could feel it. Like a ripple on a still pond, the girl conjured as she probed the firm little ridge.

She pondered the bullet. Abby’s no stranger tah seein’ what they could do to a body; the time Uncle Bob an’ ‘is crew put down them pirates give the girl all kindsa evidence fer how folk could git tore asunder. Ever’ time she ruminated on that, she grew more set of mind that the bullet what struck her had tah be a ricochet. Sure ‘n it bounced once or twice afore hittin’ me. Kinda explained it all. If that slug done hit ‘er first, by rights she’d be standin’ here without one, possibly both cheeks. Good luck, she settled her mind afore it could run toward tha next bullet what had her name…the one she ain’t met yet.

After a thoroughly fine scrubbin’, she stepped outta the shower an’ towelled off afore one ‘o’ them sink mirrors. Abby turned as she dried ‘er hair, eyes naturally drawn tah her new scar. There it was, plain as day…a vee shaped little red ridge on her light skin. Doc tole her the color’d fade over time, an’ she hoped that tah be true. Lookit me, she chided herself. Took a bullet an’ a kiss tah get me frettin’ over the looks ‘o’ my pi gu. The notion give ‘er a chuckle.

After chinos an’ boots, the deckhand pulled on a fresh tee shirt. Hai Tiki Bar - Pelorum emblazoned across ‘er chest. She ain’t never seen Pelorum ‘cept fer sittin on top ‘o’ Mariposa’s hull tah look at tha ocean. Shirt was a leave-behind from a passenger. She liked the colors..somethin’ folk called ‘tye-dye.’ She’s also partial tah the slogan…”Come get freaky at the Tiki.” Abby got no clue as tah the meanin’, but she figgered she might see fer herself someday.

But now, she had work in the engine room.

Boat’s on shore power, so everythin’ was all shut down an’ could be cleaned. First thing’s first was tidyin’ up after the houseguests. Rex’s hammock blankets an…ugh, unders…was heaped about, not tah mention a powerful load ‘o’ seeds Lucky done scattered.

She’s pushin’ broom when it bumped up agin’ a five gallon bucket. Not an odd sight fer an engine room, but this’n was all decorated in stickers an’ colored markers…placed upside down. Isaac’s? she pondered, curiosity wellin’ up over one ‘o’ his makeshift drums bein’ so far from home. A cookie sheet covered the top. Abby pulled it aside, peerin’ in to find herself being studied by two beady little eyes. “Mouse,” the girl shuddered. “On tha boat.”

Mouses...it ain’t tha one yah see what’s worrisome; it’s the hunnerd yah don’t. Runnin’ about the boat, raidin’ food stores, frightenin’ passengers, an’ makin’ more mouses. But the really huài de thing ‘bout mouses was them teeth. Mouses chewed ever’thin’. And sometimes that ‘ever’thin’ could be cables an’ hydraulic lines what kept the boat in tha air.

She had to tell Cap’n.

From inside the bucket, the stowaway stood on his hind legs, whiskers twitchin’ as he looked up at ‘er. This had to be Pen’s doin’. Would fit ‘er tah catch him alive an’ then keep ‘im someplace warm durin’ their cold flight. “So killin’s out,” she said. “Guess yew must be hungry…mayhaps thirsty, too.”

After scoopin’ up some ‘o’ Lucky’s seed an’ gettin’ water, Abby pondered jest what tah do with their passenger. “Yah can’t stay,” she whispered as he chewed a seed. “Guess yer gettin’ a new home. Let’s go.”

Abby carried the bucket outside the boat. Far end ‘o’ the tradeport was the landfill, with the jungle beyond. She conjured that to be his best option. “Welcome tah Greenleaf, Little One,” the girl said as she released the stowaway.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Happy Boxing Day from the Cargo Bay!

We hope that all of you had a wonderful Christmas with your friends and loved ones! We're also excited by the Holiday AU pieces many of you have posted to the OOC thread. While we enjoy seeing what you bring to each episode, it's a real blast to read the product of your imaginations.

As mentioned earlier, Wolf and I will move the clock forward on Episode 3. Day 2 on Greenleaf will officially kick off MONDAY, 12/27. If you've got additional Day 1 posting you'd like to get up, we encourage you to post before turning in tonight. One JP we're aware of won't be ready in time, so I've already posted a place holder. If you're in similar straits, feel free to do likewise.

So, lots of activity on Day 2! The Skyes embark on their latest heist. Yuri realizes that his future is in the hands of a "shuttle chaser." Alana's pulling stitches and prescribing sound advice. Father Collins will arrive. Hook has dropped hints about visiting a professional. Cal and Pen will get the skinny on our next job from their new best friend, Hafez Nadal. And Abby, wild child that she is, has plans to go shopping for headphones. Lots to write, and always a joy to read.

Remember that we're leaving OOC open to AU posting through Sunday, 1/2. I've got more to write there, and I hope y'all are having as much fun there as I am. Enjoy your holidays, and stay safe into the new year.

Wolf and sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Late Night Jungle Walk

Post by @Aalakrys

Once Cal and Penelope parted ways, the pilot’s feet carried her not back to her new home aboard the China Doll but rather a familiar route to her second home. The rain had really started to come down, but it was warm and the air thick. Unlike New Melbourne’s brine and salt flowing on the air, the earthy pungent smell of the forest came through in the deluge as it beat away commercial vapors. It was subtle, but an adopted in native like Penelope could sense it.

Traveling into the forest was not recommended outside certain protected areas, walls built up by the Alliance when they settled in proper to ‘oversee’ the medicinal tree farms. There weren’t any particular rules against it for on foot travelers, though air-borne ones got a scrutiny with a fine eye. No fly zones, especially over the Ipê nurseries and natural growth, were common. With her newly minted identification card, Penelope didn’t have to worry so much about her name triggering any of that when they landed the China Doll.

Instead, as she could see the dense forest coming into view behind the massive walls (constructed from the forest’s bounty, to the ire of the natives), a bothering was mingling about her thoughts mighty peskily. Cal had said to keep herself off her family’s radar. She wasn’t intending to do the opposite. It was just… as her feet carried her on, it was by way of old stomping grounds. Folks that knew her didn’t forget a face - weren’t their way. The call of the Great Andean had been too great once her captain got her out the ship.

Who was she foolin’ - she was lookin’ for a reason to step out.

In the downpour, most folks had cleared out except those accustomed to it. Luckily, the sun weren’t comin’ back up soon. Between the rain and the night, Penelope figured she was safe from being spotted as she shimmed through one of the less official exits into the forest.

It wasn’t safe to go into the jungle alone, unarmed, at night, and soaked to the bone. Not if you didn’t know where you were going, especially - and even then, risky as hell. The daunting fear of the darkness and what lurked without was a natural deterrent to most. But never really to Penelope.

She wasn’t irresponsible as she seemed though. The moment she crossed through the fence, an entirely different set of skills long dormant came to the forefront of her mind as the rainfall thinned dramatically under the canopy she was now coming under. With a deep sigh, breathing in the full aroma of the life around her, the all-but-native was home.

The destination wasn’t far - but it was enough a distance to know as an adult that she could’ve easily been killed at least twenty different ways as a child unawares. Two, she spotted in the dim light remaining before nightfall. Critters were usually more scared of humans than interested in attacking, especially if there weren’t a threat, so she continued on easy until she reached the foot of a tree so wide she couldn’t see around.

It’s trunk spread its girth out as if it had just settled in for a nice long sit, roots splayed half dug into the moist soil sponging against her boots. There she left them, behind on the ground as she used the rough, steady surface of the great tree as foot and handholds. Grandfather tree was her tree; at least in the way a tree could belong to a person in spirit. He’d taught her a lot, told her all the best stories - just by spreading his massive arms wide in welcome for her to discover the forest all around.

Time hadn’t passed at all for this ancient sentinel. A year or so of her life was just a blink for Grandfather tree, a hybrid of kapok that would last - in theory - a thousand years. This one, her mother had told her once, was at half its life. Monitoring had waned once the focus on medicinal properties picked up, and the natives cared more for its grace than those that funded its creation. Penelope liked it because her mother had; had sought it out the night she first came to the forest and slept in its arms. And then came to love it.

If she couldn’t see her siblings and father, she could at least still visit some family.

Remnants of her had lingered, she saw when she reached the spot she ultimately ventured to every time. A nook perfectly fit to sink down into for nap after a long day, and all around it her wooden talismans she’d learned from her days with the natives still dangled up high above. Penelope Randell, the girl smiled brightly as the woman sighed in contentment once again as she sunk down into the welcoming arms of her Grandfather tree and listened to the forest come alive after the rain. Tonight, she had no urge to climb into the canopy and see the stars - she’d, for the first time in her life, had enough of them for one night. The life around her was what the soul craved.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

That’s a Wrap - Part One

FF2V Holiday AU



Another day on China Doll. Another toilet tah clean.

Abby sprayed in tha solution, goin’ all ‘round tha underside of tha rim. Then she hit it with her brush, scrubbin’ an’ diggin at ever’ spot til the bowl’s all shiny. Once that part’s done she grabbed a fresh paper roll from her cart an’ slipped it inta place. ‘Cept fer makin’ a pass with the mop, she declared “One down, two tah go.”

Second stall was a rinse and repeat. She’d jest dropped on her knees in the third when ‘er hip vibrated. Abby pulled the little reader from ‘er back pocket.

New Message from Thomas Jinks. (Image attached.)

She thumbed the link. The screen glowed with both his words an’ the pic he shared.

Come back to New Melbourne. The glamorous life awaits.

Pitcher was a closeup of Thomas, grinnin’ all crooked as blood an’ fish guts was drippin’ down his face. If she’s any judge, looked like the Jinks kids got up tah tha devil while they’s cleanin’ their catch. Abby held her capture up so’s tah git a proper shot ‘o’ her scrubbin’ the toilet, a big smirk on ‘er face fer tha cam’ra. Then, she typed a message right back at him.

And give up all this?

Thomas musta liked that’n, ‘cuz he didn’t waste no time.

Darling Crabby, my Princess of Poop.

The deckhand giggled an’ banged out a reply. That’s Queen of Commodes, to you. Don’t you have work to do?

Next message from Thomas come with an audio file attachment. My brothers say you’re right. Give this song a listen. I heard it and thought of you. She took a minute, cleanin’ out the last toilet afore she stood up. Showers was next. Easy peasy, ‘cuz they both mopped up jest like the tiled deck. Abby fished the buds outta her pocket. With her mop an’ bucket at tha ready, she pressed “play.”

“And cut!” Edgar’s voice rang across the soundstage. Morgan knew at once that the director considered this take to be The one. He was so polite that one needed to listen carefully for his tells. Unlike Joss, if Edgar wasn’t satisfied with a take, his call to cut scene came in the form of a dubious question. Hearing “Cut?” was her signal to approach him for a quick consult before cameras rolled again.

She could see him, laughing and chatting with the head ciinematographer. Edgar was happy. Today was a wrap for shooting in Studio A, but she had work to do. Morgan laid the ear buds on the prop table, before donning her mask. “All good?” she asked the guest director.

“Splendid,” his eyes sparkled above his mask. “Tomorrow’s the day. How do you feel?”

“Terrified.”

He dismissed her worries with a “bah” and a hand upon her shoulder. “You killed it in blocking, Morgan. Repeat that, and tomorrow shall be a very short day. Get some rest tonight, alright?”

“I’ve got a table read in thirty,” she replied. “Then it’ll be ‘trailer, sweet trailer’ until Makeup at five AM.”

“As the lord intended,” Edgar chuckled as he flagged down his Floor Manager. “Miles, let’s prep for B-roll.”

“Right away,” the serious young man keyed his shoulder mic. “That’s a wrap, people,” his voice echoed through the studio. “Anybody who isn’t a gaffer should clear the stage. One hour dinner break for everyone shooting B-roll tonight. Check your departmental sheets for tomorrow’s call times. And remember, everybody,” he paused as the entire cast and crew shouted his nightly farewell message back to him.

“GET HOME SAFE, COME BACK SOBER!!!”

Thirty minutes til table read. Enough time to wolf down her dinner salad and get to the rehearsal room. Morgan hurried to the craft services table to find her meal all packaged in a clear plastic container. Romaine lettuce, cucumbers, and vinaigrette, was inscribed on the lid. A small bag of almonds had been taped on as well. Amelia never forgot. She’d just collected a water bottle when a voice came from behind.

“Cal Junior, I presume?”

Even behind the slight muffle of his mask, that voice was unmistakable. Morgan turned, her eyes widening at the proof of her ears. “Why…hey…wow, Mr. Fi…”

“It’s Nathan,” he offered a friendly elbow bump. “And I’m the one who should be starstruck. I just wanted to tell you how much I love what you’re doing with Abby.”

“Oh,” Morgan expelled a breath that seemed to deflate her. “I love her so much. She’s a joy to play…but sometimes I think she’s starting to take over. I catch myself speaking ‘Firefly’ and slipping into her twang at places like Starbuck’s,” she laughed nervously.

“Shiny!” Nathan’s smile was self evident through his mask. “Happened to me all the time. I catch myself channeling Mal during little moments…like contract negotiations. So…” he ventured. “Ready for tomorrow?”

“No…yes…I don’t know,” Morgan shook her head. “Doing both parts in two single takes? I mean..it feels good in rehearsal, but when I think about tomorrow? She clutched her stomach. “Butterflies for days.”

“Hmm,” Nathan shrugged. “That’s not what Summer says at all.”

“Really?”

“Really.” In the distance rose the high pitched whine of electric motors. The gaffers had wheeled out their lifts, and were now headed up to focus the lighting. “She and I had dinner last night. Now Summer’s always a pretty positive type, but for the life of me, I couldn’t get her to shut up about your rehearsals. Believe me, I tried..even offered to pay her. That was a joke.”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan tilted her head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” But she wasn’t. Not a bit.

Nathan dipped hands into his pockets. “You’ve worked with Summer going on three weeks…long enough to know each other’s moves and to have fun with it. Fun…that’s the key,” he said. “Alan and I brought Edgar in for tomorrow’s scene because he can capture the detail and draw that fun out. Tomorrow? Summer and Edgar are gonna have a great time. I’d suggest to you that you’ve put in the hard work. Tomorrow’s the fun part…but Abby already knows that.”

Morgan smiled as her eyes met his. “She does, doesn’t she?” The studio clock flashed, catching her attention. “Oh,” she scooped up her things. “Sorry, I’ve got a table read in fifteen.”

He nodded. “Right, you and Val for ‘The Great Drawl-Off.’ Joss was worried it’d come off comical, so he’s liable to be stressed. Don’t mind him, okay?”

“I won’t. I know he’s got a reputation problem right now.”

“He does. Have things been alright between you?”

“Listen,” Morgan spoke frankly. “I’ve worked with so many indy directors who make Joss on his worst day look like an angry kitten. I can handle some needling. Besides,” she looked about the soundstage with it’s numerous shooting sets. “He brought this to life. And you…”

“And you,” Nathan interjected. “There’s not a person involved here who doesn’t love what we’re doing. That ‘verse,” he pointed toward the set as lights flashed and moved in the gaffers’ hands, “started in Joss’ head, but every one of us has helped it along. You and the China Doll crew own it every bit as much as Serenity’s crew does.” He cast a wistful eye over the darkened galley set. “There’s a lot of love in these places. Enjoy this, Morgan.”

“I will…I do.”

“And don’t forget,” Nathan lifted an index finger. “Christmas party tomorrow night after we wrap. Jewel and Sean are coming. There may be caroling, but I didn’t say that…now, you’d better run. Do me a favor? Tell Val I said “Haaaagh.”

“Okay,” Morgan chuckled, “and do me a favor? Don’t tell Joss I called him an ‘angry kitten?”

“No promises.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”One Call…That’s All!"

For Yuri, the act of reading the lawyer’s business card while standing in a Khao Yai sewer tunnel seemed highly appropriate.

Business Card

“Keep that safe,” Booth said as he sloshed back toward his newest client. “Okay, I got my bearings now. Follow me.” The attorney didn’t seem to mind wading in the ankle deep filth, another box checked.

Yuri found himself grateful for the calf length workboots as they progressed through the deepening shadows. “Where are you taking me?”

Booth glanced over his shoulder. “Got a safe spot up ahead. A place where you can tell me everything I need to know without a wet work team kickin’ the door in.”

“Wet work?” Now he was confused.

“The gorillas in the suits?” the lawyer replied. “Ex military types, usually spec ops guys who just can’t settle down and grow a beer gut like Buddha intended. Their job was to have you feedin’ the pythons by oh-dark-thirty tonight…conjure?”

“Conjure,” Yuri nodded dumbly, though he didn’t conjure at all. “But why?” he asked. “Was this my company’s doing?”

“Around this corner,” the little man directed him through a junction. The tunnels beyond were much narrower, their uneven brickwork forming an overhead arch that barely allowed a man to pass without stooping. “C’mon, baby, you knew something bad was gonna happen when you agreed tp meet your bosses,” he chuckled. “We’re under the old part of the city now. Don’t touch the walls…it doesn’t scrub off.”

A half dozen rats scurried past, moving as an organized unit in single file. Booth didn’t see fit to comment. “But…a wet work team? To get rid of me? Why?”

“I’m not a hundred percent on this, yet.” The tunnel’s confines gave the lawyer’s voice a hollow echo. “But your ship’s all over the cortex. ‘No survivors…went down with all hands,’ is the kinda la shi Ogilvy-Norton’s pumping out in their press releases. Makes you an obstacle, my man! Number One, their street cred dips if you go public. But they can bounce back from that. It’s Number Two that’s got their corporate panties in a twist.”

“What’s number two?”

“Money. My girl’s not done crunching the numbers yet, but she was already North of a billion credits in the loss of the ship and cargo. Right now, your bosses are scrambling to grease the wheels for their insurance policy to pay out. As Niska tells it, a sole survivor…a mechanic who can testify to shoddy maintenance? You could put their whole bankroll on the skids. Hell, even paying to have you offed is cheaper than the cost of your death benefit.” He laughed. “You’re worth less dead than alive…much less!”

“But…” Yuri cast a wary eye behind them. “Then those guys…the spec ops. What’s to stop them following our tracks?”

Booth snickered. “Right now, they’re shadowing the truck. It’ll head to my office…in another hour or so. Gotta drop the band off first, capiche? They’ll bust in after dark. When we’re not there, they’ll scratch their pi gu’s and search for clues on the truck. So we’ve got a good three hours before they find the bottom hatch and put two and two together. After more time to backtrack manhole covers, if they’re stupid enough to drop into the sewers they’ll be up to their knees in the city’s dinner rush.”

The thought of professional killers wandering aimlessly in knee deep effluent gave Yuri a chuckle of his own. “Pretty clever,” he smiled as they approached an access ladder. “I liked the Mariachis especially. Nice touch.”

“Shiny!” Leonard Booth, Attorney at Law, pulled a wrench from his suitcoat pocket. He swung, banging the tool twice against the ladder. Suddenly, the manhole cover above them was lifted, loosing a cone of light that forced Yuri to squint. “Cuz you’re paying for them!”

“Huh?”

“C’mon,” the little man climbed upward. “I hope you like knish!”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A year ago at this time, Wolf gave me the best Christmas present ever when he dragged me from the most ferocious writer's block of my life. Now here we are, finding ourselves among a group of exceptional writers who're making a dream called China Doll into a living, breathing entity.

Anyone who's written RPG before understands the holiday slowdown of the last 2 weeks in the year. Already busy schedules tip into overdrive, and the opportunities to just relax are positively gold. Thus, RPG plots tend to lag as some writers just don't have their usual desk time.

Then, there are the others, the OCD's who want to fill those chilly nights with even more stories and character interactions. We know who we are. So, rather than seek out a 12 step meeting, Wolf and I thought to open up the OOC thread for an AU HOLIDAY!

For the unfamiliar, AU= Alternate Universe.

From now through Sunday, 1/2/22, all members are welcome to write AU Firefly tales here in OOC. These stories can involve your existing characters, or others you may wish to try on. Any time period is fine, so long as you're inside the Firefly 'verse. If you want to team up for 1x1 or small group RPG, go for it...with the understanding that we have a hard stop the night of 1/2.

Except for those caveats, you're free to tell whatever stories you like! (I'll add that explicit content is best left in your Gdocs.)

FF2V will continue without pause during this time...because Abby won't shut up.

So have fun this holiday season! Feel free to enjoy the new channel, and here's wishing all the joys of the season to you and your loved ones.

Happy Holidays,

Wolf and Sail