Authors note – Based on the Trans – U we saw on the original pilot ‘Serenity.’

Second in the Tales of the verse Series

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Reavers leave no survivors, that is true.

Even if they don’t rend you limb from limb or rape you to death. There are ways to kill a person, inches by inches a way to kill who they where. Who they thought they where.

The woman formally known as Beka Gibbons knew that with all her heart.

But Beka was gone, all her illusions gone with the coming of the Reavers. Her and her ten year old sister had been on route to meet their parents. When like a vision of hell itself they descended apoun their transport ship like a wolf out of the night.

Reavers.

**oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god **

**Beka ! **

** Its ok Mei Mei, its going to be all ok**

Even at the memory the woman felt nothing but numbness, a result of her new outlook of life. The cold, unending numbness of the heart. It was like she was looking back at another woman named Beka and her trusting little sister Tanya.

It was another woman not her who swore nothing would happen to her little sister then was held down and watched as they cut into Tanya, and they …

***No no no no no no no no no no no, not real. This cant be real, the verse can’t be this cruel***

….did what Reavers did best while they held her eyes open and made her see, every cut. Every whimper and every scream and Beka screamed along with her little sister. Screamed herself hoarse and begged them to stop, begged them to kill her; begged them to let her tear her own eyes out.

But they didn’t.

They made her watch as they dragged out whole families and did things dreamt of in the darkest part of the mind. They killed her sister first as they made her little sister beg and made Beka ‘see.’

They tore apart all her conceptions of right and wrong, of morality. They whispered in her ear as her mind and soul grew numb with shock…

*** All are cattle, all are weak. No god out here, only the black. Only the truth***

…as her she was eyes where held open and the things she saw. Well the normal mind can’t accept certain things, there are limits to what the sub-conscious can deny. And what it can’t deny it accepts.

It took hours, of blood and gore. Of weeping and endless screams that pounded her senses and her world became red and white. The Reavers knew what they where doing, they where giving her a gift of rebirth. Every torrent of blood was a baptism every white bone a crucifix.

Then they approached her with the heart of her sister, and no matter how hard she struggled. How hard she fought they feed it to her like it was a delicacy and no matter how hard she struggled she swallowed.

**flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood**

Beka wept as they did this as bit by bit her own mind tore into itself. Then they tied her up and dragged her to their hold where she lay for three days.

It was cold and damp but Beka didn’t care. Poor Beka was lying there staring in the dark of the hold and the dark stared back and in that dark she saw. Her mind grew to process what it had seen and it accepted the whispers, the hard won knowledge.

No mercy.

All are cattle.

The numb.

Beka died in there and three days later the Reavers pulled out one of their own.

Now she was one of the pack, had been now for the last three years. Her face wore the proud self inflicted mutilations of her kind. The wolves of the abyss, the true masters of the big Dark.

During the killing Reavers where like animals, like the savage wolves they based themselves own. They where quick and relentless, fearless as they tore down the cattle like the weak beings that they are.

But it was the in-between that was interesting.

Between hunts Reavers focused, they plotted and they planned. They made repairs but only the basics, only enough to get ready for the next hunt. The next feeding.

In short they moved like zombies, without the hunt the cold unfeeling numbness that was part of the existence. Beka supposed that was why she felt the fire, the blood rage like the rest of her brethren. It was like a drug that made life bearable and like any addict they craved it.

The satisfaction of the beating on someone’s face and watching as it became a bloody pulp. The feeling of the blood spraying across your face and letting your tongue taste the salty goodness of it. The skill of a well places cut under the skin to remove it just so, and how with the proper jerk a whole section of back can come right off in one go.

How the screams drove you on, into a blissful frenzy of ripping and tearing. Beka liked to collect scalps, these days. The moment after she makes the cut where the scalp meets the face. She liked to stare into her victims eyes and watch them widen because they know its coming as does she.

Then with one good rip…

It was quite an experience, almost intimate in her opinion. She was almost grateful to the cattle and usually placed a thankful kissed on the top of her victims scalp. Tasting the flesh underneath as her victim screamed again and again making her feel…

Something.

That was a Reavers existence, long periods of unfeeling existence and then the hunt. But it was a truer existence then the cattle.

‘Anything?’

Beka turned to find the Alpha of their pack staring into the deep black. The big black beast ran by the name of Duke, he had removed his ears and had pins inserted in his forehead. Unlike other alphas he did not chisel his teeth preferring them blunt.

Two days ago they had been hunting a Firefly class ship in the Atmo of a piss ant moon called Whitefall. It was a one hell of a chase and her blood boiled and her juices flowed as they neared on their target. Her mouth literally was drooling.

Then the little fuckers pulled a one eighty and they ended up going hungry. A hungry Reaver was not a happy Reaver, plus the damn core was getting tetchy and the pack was nagging for a mark up. Something faster, maybe Pink.

Beka put the pink comment down to the last settler they ate. Gorram bastard was mostly fat and sweaty and something about the meat tasted funny.

‘ Nothing.’ Beka joined the Alpha in staring into space. There was something about looking out that made them feel…calm.

‘Get some sleep.’ The big black Reaver gestured to her cot at the corner of the room. Hanging from the ceiling was a collection of scalps, from long and blonde to short and red. They where beginning to rot away not that Beka cared. What she cared about was getting some new ones, maybe ones with pig tails.

For a moment Beka lied there staring at the hair of her trophies. Reaching out she caressed the hairs lovingly, it was moments like these she felt most restless.

Like most Reavers Beka didn’t sleep much. A Reaver is always on edge, feeling listless till the next prey arrives, then they surrender to the blood lust with open arms. Because of this they are always active, always alive.

If Reavers did feel any fear, which they don’t. They would fear sleeping, because with sleeping comes dreaming and the dreams are not always pleasant. The dreams are more like nightmares, of wolves who think like sheep.

Memories.

But despite being a Reaver, true lords of the dark. Deep down they where still human. After all only humans could think of such beautiful things to do to human flesh.

Being human meant that sooner or later you had to surrender to sleep. Still, getting to sleep was sometimes hard. Beka remembers dimly of a lullaby that used to be sung to her, but she listens to a different lullaby now.

It’s a lullaby of screams, once painful to her its like the music of angels to her. The cries deep and low or high or hysterical. It’s the promise of rebirth, the cries of the dying or the begging; the sweet sweet begging of the damned.

She curled into a fetal position as her Pack continued to prowl the dark between the light. She smiled a Childs smile, listening to the sweet melody of a Reavers lullaby.

The End