AN- OH, and, yes, for those folks who want to know, me mentioning the 76th (and Monty) was intentional. Cheers, mates, and expect the next 'un in a few days! ______________________________________________________________________________________________ Day drew into dusk, the distant rumble of thunder and artillery created a soothing, if deadly, lullaby to the still slumbering soldiers. Three cloaked and hooded figures made their way towards the distant maw of the facility that hid their bane. They drew them up closer, as if to ward off the chill, but, in reality, they were more to ward away prying eyes. As they drew closer, they noticed the conspicuous lack of the customary two guards that were susposed to be guarding the entrance to the facility. This was rapidly attributed to the figure that came out of the shadows at them, a rather huge gun jockeying between. “Hold fast, folks. ‘Less somebody here got clearance, I can’t let ye pass.” The gun focused on the figure in the middle as it moved closer. The hood fell away, revealing the face of one Lt. Malcolm Reynolds. “Wait, friend. I believe that you’re working for an associate of mine. Mind proving me right.” “Only if ya’ll will prove to me that you is who you should be.” The gun never faltered. Mal handed him a slip of paper and an Ident Card from where he had been holding them in his hand. “Book gave me these; mind showin’ me yours?” The man handed him a similar card, showing him to be one Jayne Cobb, a Mercenary for Hire. Mal handed it back to Jayne, smiling slightly. “I guess we’re really doing this, then?” “Looks like,” said Jayne. Zoë and Tracey pulled back their hoods and cloaks, revealing a sawed-off and an SMG, respectively. Mal had dual pistols, for a faster reload time (or lack of one). “Shiny,” said Jayne. “Let’s go be bad guys.” *** The night shift guards were dozing, a subtle nerve agent being released into the air systems before hand, and it had a good time to circulate. It was non-lethal, although it had about the same effect as being drunk, including the hangover afterwards. Their befuddled minds, therefore, had trouble understanding when Four armed folk came in, tying them up with random objects that resembled rope and their own handcuffs. “Now, ya’ll just keep quiet,” said Mal as he finished gagging the last of them. “I ain’t one to throw stones in a house a glass, so we’ll just take back what is ours and be on our merry.” All four of them were wearing filters on their mouth and noses as a precaution, even though being in contact with the Agent shouldn’t be detrimental for that short a time. “This way, sir,” said Zoë as she looked down a smallish side-Hallway. Book had given them schematics for the building on Thursday night. Tracey stayed behind to guard the entrance, while the three of them walked into the place slowly- bullets were something best not getting shot with, when it came right to it. When they got past two sliding glass doors, they saw River. She was strapped up to a chair or somesuch, wires and the like running out of her until it seemed that she was a part of the machines themselves. Mal touched her forehead, finding it sweaty and feverish. “River?” Her eyes snapped open, staring unseeingly at him. “River?” He said again, hesitantly. Then, she screamed. Long loud, and full of anguish, until he was sure she would crack the glass or cause her throat to bleed. Mal and Jayne covered their ears in pain, and Zoë winced in sympathy of the girl. Then, there was an ominous click from behind them. A scientist type person collapsed, letting go of the button that sent out the Send on the intercom. “Zoë,” said Mal as his Sergeant went over to the man, “Zoë, Zoë, please, please tell me that the signal doesn’t go to the outside.” “Wish I could sir.” “Fucker. Alright, we’d best get gone from hereabouts.” He quickly ripped the wires from her, drawing blood in some places. He picked her up like a child, which, when it came right down to it, she still was. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing slightly. Her eyes were bloodshot and haunting. The three ran down at breakneck speed, speeding past Tracey, who still had the were-withal to follow at a sprint. They reached a mule that Jayne had come in. Mal gently placed River in the middle seat, strapping her in. Zoë climbed into the drivers seat, and Tracey in shotgun, with Jayne filling in opposite Mal. A bullet pinged off of the guard rail near Mals hand. Truth to tell, the Browncoat almost smiled. It had been so long since things made sense, what-with giant bugs killing his men on him. Shooting Alliance folk made sense to him, and he returned fire with a reckless abandon. Still, it was comforting to only have to worry about bullets killing him. Or RPGS, he reminded himself as one came dangerously close to the mule. He obliged the Alliance folk by firing back at them (River was still screaming her head off at this point in time). Jayne looked back at the pursuing Alliance figures, who were all focusing their considerable fire power on the lightly-armed mule. He brought his rather large gun to the rear of the vehicle and started blasted at anything that was shooting at them (A tactic more of necessity then finesse; most things were shooting at them now, it seemed). Then, when the firing got sufficiently loud enough, the Independents rushed in. “Huh?” Mal was, rightly, confused; as he had not let anyone else in on his plans besides those with him and on Serenity. “Book forget to tell ya?” Shouted Jayne over the din. “He informed all the Browncoats hereabouts about the whole ‘Sheep to the Slaughter’ thing. Apparently, they weren’t happy. Sucks for them ‘Liance folk, though.” He laughed a mite sadistically as he unleashed another burst into the milling crowd of folk who wished them harm. Mal unleashed another shot with his pistol, nailing an officer in the forehead as he lifted an RPG at them. “Jayne?” “Yeah?” Grunted the man as he and Tracey unleashed volleys on opposite sides of the mule. “Why are you here?” “Money was too good to pass up,” the merc shouted back over the din as he reloaded his bigass gun. “Oh, and I almost forgot; this here is Vera,” he said, pointing to the gun. “Shiny,” said Mal. Then, as the noise and the screams and gunfire and explosions reached a crescendo, and as an older model tank dug its treads into the soft, muddy ground; the Earth shook and crumbled underneath the construction of steel and rubber. The Earth fell away, and a tanker bug came up like one of the dogs of Hell, spewing Hellfire and Blasphemy. River kept on screaming as the soldier and tiger bugs began pouring out of the breach.