Disclaimer: These characters don’t belong to me. I’m just messing with them a bit.

Action! Adventure! Sex! Guns! Humour! Not so cunning stunts.

Apologies to my 4 or 5 fans out there, it's been many weeks since the last post. Wash is still airborne, Simon looks to have found his personal bullet. I plead Life intervention. I hold great respect for the frequent fanfic posters, and wonder: how do you make the time? Much thanks to all those who have kept our BDHs up and running. May your efforts find the appreciation so richly deserved.

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The captain had just achieved a difficult re-entry into sleep when the assailants burst into his living quarters. Most nights he would have awoken instantly, right hand already cradling the gun nestled beneath his pillow. Just maybe not on this rarest of nights when the previous day he’d allowed himself a touch more than an appropriate amount of onboard hooch. His ears were ringing, his brain throbbed. Through that, he could swear he heard the clack of a gun... no, make that guns, being armed. There were three of them. Two men wearing body armour, the nearest one toting a rifle, the other a long barreled pistol. The woman sported a long knife with a gleaming straight blade. One gun prowled about the cabin, knocking things over for the sake of it. The other gun was by the bed, looking nervously menacing. The captain forced his eyes to focus on the third party, already standing right next to him... how’d he let himself let her get so close? “Not so good, then,” he mumbled to the compa... aw, call it as you see it: whore beside him. Already having risen to a seated position, she appeared to be facing the barrel of an assault rifle hovering mere inches from her forehead. Remarkably, she held her gaze upon the weapon with dignified calm, tempered, maybe, with a strong hint of defiance. Hah. Beauty, smarts, no shortage of bunk skills. Not lacking in courage. He liked strength in his women. Damn, he had to admit, been a long while since he found anything this good. At which point he found a blade resting perilously over his jugular. The wielder of the knife was known to some as Ang Li. Still working on her reputation, and needing a spaceship. This tin can would do, for a start. Building up a rep could be fun, if done right. Seeing she now had the captain’s undivided attention, she began to enunciate carefully. “You will be keeping both hands right where I can see them.” She had a low, raspy voice, oh but very unsexy. Kinda chilling, actually. Sobering, even, which, thinking on it, her victim considered was a good thing. Yup, just like him to find a positive angle on a hopeless situation. Helped clear his head. The captain smiled, mentally sorting out how to speak softly enough and yet still be audible while minimizing movement of his larynx. “Easy, now,” just above a whisper. “We’ve got an understanding here. No need to be tetchy.” “Oh my dear captain, be assured that I am completely at ease.” As if to demonstrate her relaxed state, with her free hand she lightly traced a swirling line along his chest, twining her fingers amongst the fine hairs hardened with dried sweat. Then sliding her hand further to settle with heated firmness upon his rock still abdomen. Not wanting to move his head even the slightest amount, hardly daring to breathe, the captain swiveled his eyes as far down a he could in their sockets. The plane of the knife’s blade commanded the majority of his world view for a bit, until he could make himself survey her position, workin’ out angles. Sooner or later this bitch was gonna make a mistake. Didn’t have to me much of one, but then he’d make his move, giving it all he had in one instance and damn the consequences. His life looked to be too short to be spending any time worrying about anything other than the fastest way out of this situation. Stay still now, explode when the time came. As for the guns to his left, well, you dealt with these things as they reacted, or you died tryin’. It was just one of those moments. Meanwhile, the companion had ceased her staring contest with the barrel of the gun, which in any case was now pointing at the floor. She noted how her captor’s eyes widened, focusing on her chest, obviously surveying her breasts, nipples, belly. Noted too the previously grim set of his mouth transformed into a salacious grin, the relaxation of his shoulders and posture. His body language easily read, no companion training needed to interpret meaning. As an opening to action, this was as good as could be expected in such a circumstance. Her actions would, however, rely on her training. Thus she also concentrated to assimilate the scenario to her right, noticing the captain’s captor was wasting time toying with him, though to what purpose was lost on the companion, and quickly factored out as irrelevant. The companion used the few seconds available until the gunman inevitably returned his gaze to her face to slowly draw in a deep, even breath, squaring her shoulders to expand her chest, further enhancing the mercenary’s distraction while fuelling her muscles. She had, imperceptibly, she hoped, drawn her legs closer, to gain purchase. With the onset of her exhalation, the companion thrust with her left leg, simultaneously swatting down on the rifle barrel while throwing out her right arm, fingers rigidly locked, in the direction of the knife held to the captain’s throat. A risky move, mitigated by the captain’s choice to instigate his own escape in the split second he’d seen Ang Li’s eyes flick over to assess the motion on the other side of the bed. He’d determined he could sweep the knife away with his left hand, it being better able to sustain a slash than could his throat, then continue the momentum to roll off of the bed. But the whore’s arm came through and made sufficient contact with his to throw off his aim, with the result they both missed their target. The captain was unable to stop the rotation of his torso in time to prevent a slicing motion across the rigidly held blade that cut deeply into his throat, severing a jugular vein along with important components of skin and cartilage. A crimson jet painted the companion’s hip as, summoning all the force she could from her kneeling position, she forced her body upward in an attempt to slam her shoulder on Ang Li’s chest. The second gunman, through with the senseless occupation of tossing items off shelves, had turned about to witness the whore showing off her tits to his comrade-in-arms. He’d seen his gorram fool buddy drop his guard. His instincts, accumulated over years of soldiering, made him wary: a threat was a threat, no matter how pretty the packaging. He had his pistol ready. Sure enough, the whore made a move to dive across the bed. In an instant he adjusted his aim and fired in the general direction of her arc. As he lost awareness forever, the captain’s last conscious sight was that of the companion’s body jolting sideways, falling away from him.

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Hotfoot preceded Patience down the ladder to the captain’s quarters. Cody, trailing Patience, made for his gun, but eased off at the mayor’s hand signal. Patience took in the blood soaked sheets and craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the bodies lying tumbled beside the bed. All she could make out was the big sandy haired feller sprawled atop of a cute gal, she, too, obviously dead, her shoulders painted crimson by the blood from his throat, her hair matted with it. Patience cast a wicked smile at Ang Li. “Don’t much look like Zoe, I’d reckon, bit frail through the back. Damn fool be celebratin’ his new ship with one of our prairie harpies?” Ang Li began wiping her knife on the bed. Allowed herself a dismissive shrug. She replied, “I neither know nor care who this girl is… or rather, was.” Casually lifting a corner of the bed’s quilt, she carefully attended to cleaning the awkward area where the blade joined the handle. She weighed the advantages and disadvantages of ending this crone who styled herself queen of a nothing moon. Decided that at this early stage of her plans that an ally, no matter how trivial the import or tenuous the connection, was worth letting live. Most likely this Patience would become expendable, if she didn’t first succumb to old age, but was not worth killing just yet. Maintaining her focus on the knife, Ang Li added, “Of significance, we have eliminated the captain, as per your price. As agreed, you will have his body. We will dispense of the other, if you do not wish to do so yourselves.” In her time, Patience had dealt with enough youngblood bravado, so she weren’t about to be the least bit fazed by this phony. Anyone willing to take out Malcolm Reynolds just to claim this go-se boat was merely doin’ everyone a favour. Hell, them boxes of Alliance rifles was just a bonus. That wanna-be psycho bitch could talk tough from here to Londinium, didn’t matter none, since Patience was gonna win this situation no matter what angle be taken on it. She turned to her younger deputy. “Cody! Make yourself useful for once, and turn our dumbass Browncoat over so as I can spit in his dead face. Serve him right, costin’ me my best shooter and my favourite horse.” Cody smartly did as he was told. Good to show her he weren’t squeamish and all. He grabbed a hold of the captain’s shoulder, and with some effort heaved the dead weight over on to its backside. Cody stepped aside as Patience sauntered over to have a look-see. Whitefall’s mayor bent down and took a good look. She straightened up slowly, face contorted with anger, and turned to glare at Ang Li. “That ain’t him.”