sail3695

Firefly - Second 'Verse

"Farewell and Adieu..."

"Rex Black is a character created by @Psych0pomp."

You've seen that credit mentioned alot in our previous episode. Rex, our rakish, ribald, rogue of a First Mate, was one of the first characters to join the crew. Along with his parrot, Lucky, he cut a colorful swath through our posting in the first episode, with a written voice that was as hilarious as it was engaging. If there was sin to be had, you could count on Rex to be first in line.

We hadn't made it out of Episode 1 before learning that his author, @Psych0pomp, was wrestling with a number of difficult issues on his homefront. He tried to hang in there, but his posting activity dwindled through Ep. 2 until one day when we realized that Psych had stepped away from all of his RPG commitments unannounced. With no one to voice our First Mate, Wolf and I agreed to step in and write him when our plots required, until we could write the character off at the end of episode three.

And then came Headhunters M.C.

The bike gang was first envisioned to conduct a raid on China Doll once we'd broken atmo, followed by a landing on one of Greenleaf's moons. (Bryson's Rock, lol) From there we'd see the conflict over shipping rights play out. This was all well and good until a drunken Hook went spoiling for a fight in the Twirling Rabbit. That little surprise turned our planning on its' ear and opened up a significantly richer story for the bikers and their hapless hostage, not to mention what we've seen of Hook's growth and suffering for his actions.

But none benefited more than Rex. The new plot arc provided additional tension and some brilliant individual character growth (Hook's bout of the DT's forcing him to lower his rifle comes to mind). But Rex? Not only did he make his exit as a hero, he departed with a style and flare that are purely his own.

@Psych0pomp, if you read this, we wanted to express gratitude for the use of the character. As he grew to be universally admired by our writers and lurkers, we like to think that we kept him alive and vital within your guiding vision. Rex Black will be missed.

wolf and sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Episode 4 - “Redemption Road”

WELCOME TO OSIRIS! The time is now 10:00AM local. After her doin’s in the Blackout Zone last night, China Doll backtracked into orbit and fired up her pulse beacon for a proper landing. This morning finds her snug in her berth at Capital City Spaceport.

Cap’n and Rex pulled off a neat one last night, but with Rex gone and Abby in the Doc’s hands, workin’ crew is becomin’ a might scarce. Hook was pullin’ duty all over the boat, helpin’ the broken armed Yuri in the cargo bay and gettin’ up a mighty fine breakfast, but he wasn’t lookin’ any too healthy this morning. Cal decided to bump Yuri up to First Mate, handed him the clipboard, and nudged him toward the lawn chair to drum up passengers and cargo.

Now, with everyone settled into their chores, China Doll began her regular dance. Find folk. Find cargo. Keep flying.

OOC: We’re finally here! Welcome to our new writers!

Firefly - Second 'Verse

High Midnight - Part 3

JP/Collab from @Xandrya, @Gunther, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695
Rex Black is a character created by @Psych0pomp

"Om Tare,
Tuttare,
Ture Svaha."

In the Order of the Interverse, there is a chant which calls upon Green Tara, or the 'Mother of Liberation.' She is hailed as the embodiment of profound compassion, relief from mundane suffering, and universal salvation.

"Om Tare,
Tuttare,
Ture Svaha."

This chant entreats Tara to swiftly deliver us all, and even now, the syllables "om tara-ture-tara-ture ay soha" flooded the standoff in the shadow of the China Doll. Two dozen tiny mouths uttered those strange words as children materialized from the darkness, weaving their way among whizzing targeting scans, biker leathers, and bats not yet bloodied.

"Om Tare,
Tuttare,
Ture Svaha."

At their center, a splash of color, a bright orange kasaya robe and a woman who wore it. Her face was calm, serene even, as she made her way among the Kings clan toward Root, his lieutenants, and Abigail.

Joe stared in awe at the vision of the children and the bright orange robe. ‘Who the F—? Is that?’ Joe thought to himself. He just stared through the scope watching the scene unfold. Then he noticed something peculiar. It wasn’t anything developing in the clearing near the China Doll. It was his hand. The trembling started slightly at first, then his hand began to shake violently. His entire body began to shake. He gently placed the rifle on the ground and buried his face into the soil. The desire for whiskey was taking over. He closed his eyes and focused on fixing whatever this was. Slowly, the shakes faded, but he felt tired. He would not let down the captain or Abby. They needed him. He picked up the rifle and resumed peering through the scope aware of what just happened to him. Hopefully, it was just a passing thing.

Enthralled by the sudden appearance of multiple bodies, Alana's immediate reaction was to lower her weapon just the slightest, the muzzle well below range of her target's center mass. Their chanting was captivating, even as the strange woman made her way towards those holding Abby hostage. Maybe Alana was too afraid to move, or maybe there was something else at play, but whatever was going on, she remained firmly grounded in place. Beyond the physical aspect of the experience, it seemed as if her inner voice had quieted down, settling her down some despite the circumstances.

The mechanic gaped at not only the woman in her bright orange robe, but also the band of children in her wake. Little silhouettes filtered through the assembled bikers, before stepping into the dim light from the cargo bay. They swirled around the woman like a school of fish, moving and chanting to lift the pall of threat from those in their path. Yuri took his lead from the Doc, feeling relief wash over him as the pistol slipped into his pocket. “C’mon, Edina,” he whispered as he lay a hand atop hers. “Come on.”

Until Yuri touched her, she’d been alone with her rage, sighting down the tool of her vengeance toward another who thought such violence came as a god given right. Edina knew intimately the sort of pain these people had visited upon Abby. She could feel the sharp ache, the uncomfortable tightness of skin stretched by swollen tissues beneath, and the throbbing cadence of a head trauma. She knew first hand the cruelty, and grief welled in her heart for one so young to endure it. And there, square in her target scan, was the man responsible.

The arrival of children lent a surreal cast to her surging emotions. At first she resisted. How to give up the source of so much pain when he’s standing right there? Yuri came to her rescue, a gentle hand upon hers to lower the heavy gun. “C’mon, Edina.” Her hands trembled as he removed the weapon. The hateful spell now broken, she felt the first tears on her cheek as her eyes found Abby once more.

“We’re done here,” Pacho said to his people. “Put ‘em away. Saddle up.”

Seeing his local reinforcements turning for their machines, Root held his stance. “Hey Pacho,” the biker chief called his counterpart, “you gonna tell me what the dìyù just happened here?”

“See that woman?” Pacho stepped up beside his ally. “She’s the Sister, man. We don’t cross The Sister.” He patted his old friend on the shoulder. “See you back at the clubhouse.” He paused to raise a deferential hand. “Buenas noches, Hermana.”

'The Sister' dipped her head slightly in response to Pacho's show of respect. The children had gone silent, occupying themselves now by standing close to the members of Root's gang, surveying their Greenleaf cuts and jungle-mud soaked boots in wide-eyed wonder. As Pacho's gang of biker backup quit the scene unfolding in front of the China Doll, the witching-hour spell of quiet began to fall away, and Root's crew was much more matched to that of the China Doll.

The Sister? So the woman had a name. Judging by the biker who was readying to pack up and go, it seemed she wasn't one to mess with, especially since her and her "children" had materialized out of thin air. Alana side glanced her crew as well as her captain. The fact that one man was bowing out so easily was very telling, and she wasn't too keen on sticking around to find out why.

As more than a dozen bikes coughed into life, the Headhunters president remained unfazed, his pistol trained squarely upon the forehead of the boat captain. “Debt’s gotta be settled, Strand,” he said. “Blood for blood. If it ain’t this “Hook,” then it’s another one of your crew. Make the call.”

"Not so fast there, cowboy," the Captain began, mightily aware of Root's pistol pointed square at his head. "Your customer's gonna get mighty tetchy when they open up what they paid for and find a bunch of lucky cats." Despite effort, a grin played at the corner of his lip as he faced the biker leader. "But if you hightail it, I can point you to the plot we stashed it for safe keeping. Whaddya say?"

“Nips,” Root’s eyes were as unwavering as his pistol.

“On it,” The woman holstered her pistol in favor of her cortex. She raised it to her ear, then jerked it back in reflex to the explosion of profanity at the far end. “Stavros? Hey, wait a minute…what?” she asked as the next tirade could be heard by all within earshot. “Yeah…yeah…we just heard about it…right. Bunch ‘o’ lucky cats.” she traded glances with her chief. “We’re fixin’ it,” she assured the client.

“Tell ‘im the Kings won’t forget how he tried to screw them outta the deal,” Root said. “We’re gonna fix that for him, too.” As his lieutenant relayed the message, the M.C. president said, “You just don’t know when to quit, do you, Strand?”

"Don't reckon I know how," the man intoned. His eyes stayed trained on Root's while he felt Rex move from his left.

“He also doesn’t know where the goods are.” Rex tapped his forehead with two fingers. “But I do.”

Cal's eyes finally strayed from the biker to focus on Rex's profile, a furrow forming in his brow.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Story Note

China Doll descends through broken cloud toward the surface. Cal guides her in, with Sam’s navigation directing them toward the coordinates offered by Root. In the distance, Capital City is a gleaming pinnacle of central planet advancement, the magnificent spires of her towers glowing as they reached for the stars overhead. Even to those flying in at night, the opulence of both the city and the sprawling suburbs was unmistakable.

Not so for the designated “blackout zone.” As the Firefly dipped in low, the occasional streetlamp or dim glow from shuttered windows could be seen, scant patches of light from a world enveloped in darkness. Finding their objective, Cal brought the ship to hover above a rough looking patchwork of bare foundations, stark reminders of the buildings that once stood on this ground.

Headlamps flashed in the distance; the waiting truck signaled the ‘all clear.’ Though still lacking the finesse of their former pilot’s touch, Cal was able to set the boat down in a fashion that didn’t spark alarm from her human or AI crew.

Once China Doll settled, the unloading went quickly. Rex, Hook, and Cal put their backs into hustling the twelve crates down the ramp and onto the truck’s lift gate. In just minutes, the job was completed. The truck sped off, leaving Cal with his payment and a strong sense of unease for what was to happen next.

His orders came quickly. Rex hurried inside to summon the doc and Edina. Hook disappeared into the darkness, a rifle slung over his shoulder.

As the crew gathered on China Doll’s cargo ramp, the air soon filled with the growing rumble of engines. The bikers were coming.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Perils of Abigail Travis, Part 6 - “Burn In”

Road Angel’s hangar deck was all kindsa busy. As Abby watched, Root an’ four ‘o’ his folk powered up their sky cycles afore hoverin’ clear ‘o’ tha parked bikes. The five of 'em formed a jagged line in tha open bay. Once he’s settled, tha bike gang leader waved ‘er over. “Ever ride before?” he asked.

“Horse,” Abby said as ‘er eyes crawled all over tha big machine.

“Kinda similar,” Root patted the seat behind him. “Hop on.”

"What do I do?” She weren’t quite ready to git on this thing.

“See the foot pads?” he pointed toward the flat chrome rests. “Mag lock your boots to those. Now, handgrips are your choice. Some folk like the ones just beneath the seat,” his gloved hand connected with a low hung chrome handle, “Or you can lean forward an’ put your arms around me. Don’t fret,” he laughed at the stormclouds on the girl’s brow, “it doesn’t mean we’re going steady or anything.”

“Handgrips are shiny.” At his coaching, she threw a leg over tha bike seat an’ climbed on. Abby set 'er boots down, feelin' tha grip as they's clicked in an’ locked tight. She had tah admit tha EV suits these bikers wore was lighter an’ more comfortable’n what she growed up in. ‘Cept fer bein’ magged, she didn’t feel no problem movin’ about. “Think I’m all set,” she tole Root after tryin’ them handgrips.

”Ku.” Close your faceplate. Let me know when you got a green light.” He pulled his into place, sealing the suit. “Com check. Everybody on?” Root studied his bike’s status readouts as each of the gang confirmed. “Payback, that means you too.”

“I hear y’all,” Abby’s voice come over the com. “Got a green light on muh suit.” Root locked a boot on tha deck, holdin’ them in a low hover. The girl watched ‘is hands on tha handlebars, right hand throttlin’ as left kept tha brake engaged. She could feel tha bike’s power rumblin' up underneath each time he revved that throttle.

“Slack,” Root ordered. “Open her up.” The hangar door rolled upward, revealing the broad sweep of Road Angel’s forward landing deck. The pale blue jewel of Osiris lay ahead and beneath, one of her moons peeking out above the horizon as a dazzling tapestry of stars flickered in the heavens. “Everybody good?” the biker chief's voice sounded in coms. Once the rest of his crew gave the 'go' sign, he lifted his boot. “Let’s roll.”

Ring of Fire

The five bikes peeled off, one before the next, into the black. Abby hung on as Root’s bike led tha way along tha deck. Suddenly they swung left, leanin’ hard inta a turn. She looked down on tha rough plankin’ whizzed below jest outta reach, til they weren’t no boat left tah see, jest black. She could see Root, grippin’ them high handlebars as stars an’ planet whirled about tah suit his new headin.’ One look over ‘is shoulder said they’s steerin’ fer tha far horizon. “We ain’t goin’ down?” she asked.

The biker’s head turned. “Half orbit,” he said through the com. “Cap City’s around the back. It’s nighttime there.”

Tha girl turnt on ‘er seat tah look back tha way they come. She seen tha other four bikes, all runnin’ sorta loose formation tah catch up as their boat, Road Angel, growed smaller an’ smaller behind. It’s a good thing, she conjured, ain’t nobody can see I’m likin’ this.

The five cycles raced through the inky blackness, before falling into an easy bank for their half orbit. To the right, Osiris filled the sky, her cloud tops and land masses moving in a stately progression as they tore past. “So, Payback,” Root said on the open channel, “Haven’t heard any freakouts. Not your first time in an EV suit, I conjure?”

Abby shook ‘er head. “Nope. Growed up in tha black. First time out tha airlock when I’s ten.”

“Really?” Nips’ asked. “What’s a ten year old girl doing in an EV suit?”

“Ya’ll call me a liar if’n I tell.”

“Oh, now we gotta know,” Cottonmouth joined in.

“Yeah!” Mouse piped up from the tail end of the pack. “C’mon, Payback. Spill!”

The surface ahead of them lay in the shadow of advancing nightfall. Moving together as a unit, the five Headhunters swept on toward the oncoming darkness. Here and there, lights began to wink on among the deepening shadows. “I’m with them,” Root cajoled his passenger. “We gotta know.”

“Chalk drawin’s,” Abby surrendered.

“WHAT?”

The channel come alive with all them bikers laughin’ an’ askin’ questions. “All kindsa stuff,” she answered one. “Nah, it all wipes off durin’ burn in,” she tole another. To a third she answered, “most times nobody ever sees ‘em but me…'cept’n that one time we's stood to fer an Alliance cruiser. Officer tole my Uncle Bob they’s thinkin’ on finin’ him, but they liked all them flowers on ‘is hull so much they changed their mind.”

“We should try that one, Prez!” Nips chortled as the planet below fell to the black of night. Ahead of them lay Capital City, a spectacle of lights that sprawled out for miles in all directions except one.

Abby looked at tha city lights. “Is tha city on a big lake or somethin’?” she asked at the large chunk of darkness seemed ta nudge right up agin’ tha town. In that pitch black she could only make out a few lights. Seemed sensible they’s boats out on tha water…

“That’s the Blackout Zone,” Cottonmouth replied. “Where we’re headed. Crammed full of all the poor folk, the moon brains, the junkies…anybody don’t qualify as an upstanding citizen of the Alliance.”

“Yeah,” Nips agreed, “but even they come sneaking around for a taste.”

“Or a piece,” Mouse added.

“Cut the chatter,” Root ordered. “Time to burn in. Set your shields.” At his order, all five bikes deployed reentry shielding that seemed to telescope out from their bottom frames. Each thin sheet locked into place, creating a clamshell shape that curved out and upward.

Abby watched as Root lifted tha bike’s nose a spell. From over his shoulder she could see tha screen and how he’s aimin’ right down tha center of a long curved tunnel ‘o’ squares, purty simple stuff.

“Hey boss,” Cottonmouth said hopefully, “It’s really dark down there...”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon!” the gang’s enforcer nearly whined. ‘It’s too perfect! Can’t we do it? Please?”

“Pretty please?” Mouse put on her most appealing tone.

“No,” Root answered.

Nips cut in to the rescue. “You know,” she said, “Payback’s never seen it. If you’re tryna get her to swear in, seems to me we should show her some of the cool?”

“Had this planned, dincha?” Root played at a brusque tone. “Alright, alright….but just ten percent fuel dump. TEN PERCENT!”

Abby felt tha first buffetin’ of friction as the atmo come up to meet ‘em. Tha bikes was all set up in formation now, a tight vee, like a flock ‘o’ geese. She seen their shields all startin’ tah glow orangy-red as they come plummetin’ down.

“Ready?” Root asked. When the first flames appeared, he gave the order. “Light ‘em up.”

“YEEEEHOOO!”

Abby turnt tah catch tha sight as tha bikes dumped fuel. Each one’s shields was flamin’ like a torch, an’ tha fuel they's jettin' out made five fiery trails what stretched out fer miles behind ‘em. All them bikers was hootin’ an’ hollerin’ tah beat tha band. As fer Abby, weren’t no two ways on this’n. Yeah, she thought, this is cool.

As if her could read her mind, Root said, “It’s okay to enjoy this, kid.”

Weren’t no time a’tall til they’s down in thick air. Everybody left their shields out as windbreaks an’ tah slow them bikes fallin’ through broken cloud as tha black zone rose up tah swallow ‘em whole. Soon enough they come in low, an’ Abby could make out a few lights an’ one-two folk movin’ about.

“So, what’s the plan?” Cottonmouth asked.

“The Kings,” Root said. “Pacho’s waiting. We’re gonna hang at their clubhouse an’ drink their beer while we wait for the signal. Then we’ll take Payback to her people and claim what’s ours.”

“Yew mean killin’,” Abby said flatly.

“Hope not. Only one of your crew owes us a life. If your captain’s wise, he’ll see it our way.”

The bikes circled over what appeared to be an abandoned freight yard. Burning trash barrels cast their lurid glow upon ranks of parked cycles, and also marked the landing sight for the Headhunters. Root led the way, easing his bike down toward the center.

“Wait,” Abby said. ‘What if I swear in…ride outta here with yew when this is done? Is that enough tah keep killin’ outta this?”

“We can talk,” the MC President said as his skids touched down.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”Phone a Friend”

JP/Collab from @wanderingwolf and @sail3695


What Rex had to tell him wasn’t comforting at all.

These bikers…these Headhunters. They’d been doing this business for years, making regular runs to Osiris with a hold full of drops. Doc had all the scientific names for the chemicals she’d found hidden in harmless looking little bottles, but whatever they were called, truth was plain as day that he’d been played by Hafez Nadal. He’d been made an unwitting poacher, and for a fraction of the price.

Tough enough predicament to conjure one’s way clear of. The fact this same bike gang now had a blood feud going with China Doll was gonna make it nigh on impossible to steer him and his clear without bloodshed. Though the crew, and even their lone passenger were all one hundred percent behind facing the gang to get Abigail back, the lonely calculus of their captain had him more’n a bit worried that good people were gonna wind up on the ground. When they came, they’d come in numbers. He was out of options. With a silent curse for his efforts, Cal accessed the cortex.

The image on screen flipped, rolled, and then eventually locked upon the one person he’d thought to avoid. Badger, the lower tier crime lord from Persephone, fixed the captain with the grin of an amused predator. “Well, well, well,” he began, “Captain Strand finally chooses to return my message. Have to admit to feeling a bit like your old mum. ‘You never call! You never write!” he teased.

“Oh c'mon Badger, it ain't like that. If I'd got a wave from you I'd've replied out of respect, sure as the mail." He could feel his thin smile slip ever so slightly.

“Didn’t receive it, you say?” The little man slipped two fingers beneath his bowler hat. As he scratched his head, he offered, “I hired two blokes on New Melbourne with instructions to deliver a personal invitation. I was told they gave said invite to a member of your crew in the street. Never made it back to you, then?” He chuckled. “Sounds as if one of us needs to reexamine our hires. So,” he continued, “let’s discuss what prompts you to call on such a bright day. How might I be of service to the great Captain Strand?”

"You could say that again," Strand thought aloud, considering who might have failed to pass along the message. Now that he thought of it, might be the same crew who landed them in this mess in the first place... "See, I'm headin' into a colorful sort o' situation," Strand paused to scratch his chin, "The sort that might suggest a gang of bikers whom I seem to have slighted by doin' a run as a favor--you know how it is."

Badger raised an eyebrow. “Bikers? Mmmm. Quite the cockup,” he responded in a condescending tone. “So what’s it you’re looking for? Even the odds, perhaps? Gun hands start at five hundred a pop, but if you’re skint and hiring that cheaply, you might’s well put the coin into coffins. Add to that the eleventh hour nature of this request, and I’d conjure you’re looking at…hmmm,” his smile transformed into the toothy grin of a viper, “twenty thousand for ten. Have you got twenty thousand, Calvin?”

Cal sobered a mite as the serpent played with his food. Removing his hat, he ran a hand through his hair. "Bai Lih Mohn there Badger, if I had that scratch lyin' 'round I wouldn't be flyin' into this ruddin' mess." His back was against he wall, sure, but he had one card yet to play. (trans: wishful thinking)

"They took the kid; the one what got tangled up with your 'passenger' on Persephone. They did a number on 'er, too. All shades of black and blue." He watched Badger's face in the beat that followed.

“One of the more colorful aspects of business as usual. So perhaps a more…symbiotic…solution might be in order?” Badger’s eyes danced merrily as he toyed with his words. “Just so happens that I’ve an acquaintance in Capital City…the very one whose affairs I’ve been hoping to discuss with you. Promises have been made, and now they must be kept. I’ll make a call,” he spoke as if delivering salvation, “and then, old chum, it’ll be your honor to keep my promise. How’s that, then?” Badger’s grin broadened. “Seem a better fit for the old coin purse, does it?”

The Captain chewed his cheek a moment before acquiescing, "Fine." There was that feeling of falling again; falling into another open-ended deal with a ship that couldn't fly on promises.

“Splendid,” the aspiring criminal don answered. “Send me your landing coords and ETA. I’ll have my associate pay a visit. Mind you, you still might be walking into a Serenity Valley of your own making, but I can’t fix all of your faux pas, now can I? Do call if you haven’t been ventilated, will you?”

Cal's smile didn't quite touch his eyes as he raised a finger to kill the wave. Badger might just come through, but his incessant prattling was a price to pay in itself. And in the end, could a man ever really rely on anyone besides hisself?

Badger lifted an imperious finger. “Final thought for an old mate. Next time you find yourself considering business dealings with some overtly friendly sort, do come and discuss it with old Badger? My expertise comes at a price,” the ever present grin tightened a bit, “but it just might keep you and your crew out of the O.K. Corral. Best of luck.” With a tip of his hat, the little man’s image winked into blackness.

The Captain stood from the pilot chair, alone on the bridge in the black of space. The cigarette was in his mouth of its own volition. Somewhere, out there, Osiris's blue dot was growing toward the China Doll. Maybe too fast for him to think his way out of this one.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Story Note

It is now Day 4 - Landing Day for China Doll.

The boat is scheduled to land at midnight, at coordinates within the Capital City Blackout Zone. (We first learn about Blackout Zones in the Firefly TV series, episode 5 - "Safe.")

Through hard running and round-the-clock effort by the boat and her crew, they're running two hours ahead of schedule, which is good. Cap'n has a plan.

CURRENT CREW are invited to add individual or JP/collab posting if you've got something in your character arc. If not, we'll continue to push ahead and begin dropping the climax/finale Monday evening.

NEW WRITERS: Again, welcome aboard! You are free to post your CS to the "Characters" tab, and we'll get this boat on the ground just as fast as we can to meet with you on Osiris.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Story Note

It is now Day 4 - Landing Day for China Doll.

The boat is scheduled to land at midnight, at coordinates within the Capital City Blackout Zone. (We first learn about Blackout Zones in the Firefly TV series, episode 5 - "Safe.")

Through hard running and round-the-clock effort by the boat and her crew, they're running two hours ahead of schedule, which is good. Cap'n has a plan.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Sorry to push, guys, but if anyone has a post to go up for in flight day 3, now's the time to get it in. Tonight (Friday, 6/24) at midnight EDT we'll skip time to Day 4 - Landing day on Osiris. We have a couple prelim posts and then will start posting the all hands finale.

Now for the real news. Welcome to 2 more writers, @PatientBean and @udonoodles! We're excited to have you, along with @Theyra, joining in the fun. While we're welcoming new folk and characters, say 'hi' to Imani Ozuka, a new char. from @Xandrya.

If you haven't already, please feel free to post your CS in the Characters tab.

We're feeling good about wrapping the current episode early next week. Thanks, new folks, for your patience!

sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Perils of Abigail Travis, Part 5 - “Cut”

Cold.

Half ‘er face felt a right chil, while rest of ‘er’s sorta snug. She could hear sounds ‘o’ folk movin’ about, talkin’ an’ laughin’ one t’other, all friendly like. As she ‘membered where she was, Abby opened ‘er good eye.

Cottonmouth was sittin’ at ‘er side, lookin’ right down on ‘er.

“No..” she commenced strugglin’, putin’ arms up tah shield from blows was gon’ start any second. “No…no…” she tried bringin’ ‘er legs up fer defense as well, “no…”

“Hey…hey!” the enforcer showed open hands held in supplication. “You’re shiny….you’re shiny. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

Her head was still thuddin’ an’ dull, and ‘er heart’s racin’ at sight 'o' the man what whipped ‘er bein’ this close. Here it comes, she conjured as he turnt away fer a tick. But this time, what Cottonmouth brought tah her weren’t no kinda weapon fer beatin’. This time, he held pills in one hand an’ a tall glass ‘o’ water in t’other. “Augh!” she cried out as both hands clutched tha glass. She drank, and drank, and drank s’more…

“Mouse,” Cottonmouth said, “Get another glass over here.” He waited, pills balanced in a patient hand as the hostage gulped the last of her first real drink in three days. He held them out toward her as Mouse arrived with another brimming glass. “Take these,” his voice was gentle. “They’ll help with the pain and swelling.” When the girl cast a mistrustful eye, he replied, “if I was tryin’ to kill you, I woulda done it already.”

That seemed good enough fer Abby. The bikers had ‘er sprawled on one of them sofas in their lounge area. Slowly, she pulled ‘erself upright an’ swung ‘er feet tah tha deck. She’s surprised tah feel socks on ‘er feet, an’ the knees what poked out from under tha blanket was wearin’ denim. They’d put ‘er clothes back on ‘er…cept’n tha bra an’ tee shirt what got cut up by Lido…
Abby tucked tha blanket over her bosoms an’ beneath each arm, afore downin’ them pills with three more healthy gulps ‘o’ water.

“Here,” Cottonmouth returned the icepack to her right eye. “You’re gonna have to hold it there…sorry. You hungry?”

Here he was…him as beat on ‘er with her own boot, now tha very soul ‘o’ kindness hisself. Has to be a con, she ‘membered how them grifters on China Doll switched to an’ fro tah confuse ‘er fer their aims. Fer all their chicanery they never laid hands on ‘er, though. And, she contemplated, ...while con this may be, I ain’t et in three days, neither… “Yeah,” she answered.

“Dinner’s not for a couple hours. Chili and cornbread, and gorram it’s good,” he smiled. “But we’ll getcha somethin’ to hold you over. Whatcha want?”

“PB an’ J’ll work,” the girl said, a little dumbstruck.

“You got it.” Abby flinched when Cottonmouth jumped to his feet. He run off tah tha galley an’ left ‘er jest sittin’ on tha couch. They’s bikers about, some what gandered her way an’ passed whispers, but ain’t a one of ‘em lookin’ tah have a go. And none ‘em seemed any bit riled that Cottonmouth left a big buck knife on tha coffee table right fronta her, tah boot.

A minute later an’ all she could conjure was how there ain’t nothin’ better’n a PB and J with a sack ‘o’ cheese puffs on tha side. Cottonmouth fergot a napkin, so when she’s finished, Abby set tah lickin’ orange fingertips clean.

“You want another one?” he asked.

“Nah.” With food in ‘er belly an’ sweet, sweet water soakin’ inta her system, Abby’s head was clearin’ enough fer curiosity tah change course. “Why tha change?” she up an’ asked. “Why come y’all stopped kickin’ tha la shi outta me?”

Cottonmouth sat down upon the coffee table, forearms resting over his knees. “Don’t want to steal Root’s thunder,” he smiled, “but I can say this. Sorry for poundin’ on you like I did. That’s my job…”

“And it was my call.” Root stood in the table room’s open doorway. “Wasn’t personal, kid. How you feeling?” he asked as he stepped toward the sofa, followed by Nips.

“Beat hard an’ nearly raped,” she snarked inta his face. “How’re yew?”

“Oh yeah,” Root’s memory jogged. “What’s the word on Lido?”

Cottonmouth shook his head. “He’ll live, but he’s not gonna feel like walkin’ for a couple days.”

The MC president listened, his face impassive. “Takes us down to five for burn in. Cheesedick’s jaw still ain’t right after she kicked ‘im.” He chuckled as his sole eye landed upon the girl. “Well, Little Missy, you knocked two of my guys outta commission and put my top L-T in for an earlobe reattachment.”

“With her hands behind her back,” Nips added.

Root grinned. “With your hands behind your back. Not sure what you know about bike clubs, kid…”

“...Done learnt enough already…”

“...And you did it the hard way, which was sorta stupid,” he observed, “But one of Nips’ jobs is to keep me straight on our rules and regs. While the rest of us were gettin’ ready to space you, she was keepin’ score. May I?” he gestured toward Cottonmouth, who relinquished his seat on the coffee table. “You met Mouse,” he pointed toward the tiny woman. “She’s what we call a prospect. Sworn into the club, but she’s still some membership requirements to complete. You,” he pointed a casual finger toward Abby, “helped her with one of those today.”

“Using a weapon to defend the club,” Nips offered Mouse an approving nod. “She’s had two beatdowns. Was scheduled to see Lido for the third, but that’s not happening.”

“And,” Root added, “she’s still short her act of trustworthiness. But you? According to Nips here you’ve taken four beatdowns that left marks on three of ours. For all the punishment the only thing we got out of you was your name, if it really is ‘Abby,” he chuckled.

“Told ya true,” Abby sipped ‘er water. “Collected a few nicknames along tha way…”

“And one more today,” the biker chief lifted a hand toward his lieutenant. “But your stunt with the shotgun? Aside from makin’ all of us la shi our pants, you used a weapon to defend your club.”

“Muh club?” She’s still lookin’ fer tha con, and by dawg they had ‘er confused now.

“Your boat.” Root said as Nips draped a denim vest in his outstretched hand. “China Doll. Have to admit I’m a little jealous right now, but as Nips tells me, ‘Rules is rules.’ And so,” he unfolded the garment to present with both hands, “you met all the qualifications for a full patch. Welcome to the Headhunters, Payback.”

“Wait…wait,” shed tried sayin’ as a throaty bellow echoed through tha lounge. “Ain’t joinin’ yer club. Tomorrrah night I’m back on muh boat.”

“Maybe so,” Root shrugged. “That means we got til then to change your mind. And that cut,” he said. “You put that on, you’re our sister, safe as safe can be among us.”

Mouse come ‘round, holdin’ a tray with a bunch ‘o’ whiskey shots. Abby looked upon tha vest. Headhunters M.C. - Greenleaf stood out bold around a pair ‘o’ skulls what had some kinda tribal dots on ‘em. Truth be told, this was tha sorta thing she’d as like pick up at a thrift shop. “Well,” Abby said, “don’t look like yer offerin’ me no other kinda shirt.”

As she stood an’ dropped tha blanket, she had tah admit surprise at sight of all them bikers turnin’ their eyes away from her bare chest. The vest went on, an’ fit good an’ snug. “Why ‘Payback?” she asked as tha zipper went all tha way up top.

“Uh,” Nips hesitated as she handed their new sister a shot. “Cuz payback’s a bitch?”

Fer tha first time in three days, Abby smiled.