Closing Doors: Firefly's, a Second Life bar for fans of Firefly and Serenity.

  In January of 2007 I had just discovered Second Life.  Spent my time exploring, sometimes randomly, sometimes by searching out key words I was interested in, and mostly marveling at how clever people are.
  One of the things I regularly searched for was "Firefly" and "Serenity".  I'd visit all the places that came up on searches for those words,  hoping to find some hangout or community of fans, maybe a role-play area.
  Unfortunately (or fortunately as it might be) every place I'd visit, day after day, was always empty.  Some were small parcels made as little fan devotions, some were entire towns, like Washtown, but there was never anyone at any of these places, no matter what time of day it was I'd visit.  
  When my wife Jen joined me in SL we'd both look around for Firefly or Serenity places to hang out at.  Never could find anything really.  And the few times we did run into someone at, say, Washtown, we weren't really a part of the "in crowd", we were just newbies and all.
  So with about a month of SL experience, we decided we'd just start up our own Firefly bar!  A place for fans of the show or just anyone who wanted to, to hang out and enjoy music, dance, flirt.  We'd build it ourselves, on a commercial rental sim.  
  We were probably crazy.  I mean, one month old newbies who are going to build and then run a club business when we didn't know anything?  Not even the difference between "mainland" and "private islands"?  

  Well, we built the place and started it up, with a regular schedule so that patrons would know for sure when someone would be there.  Wednesday nights, Friday nights, Saturday nights, and Sunday nights.
  Jen focused on building stuff, I focused a bit more on texturing, decorations, figuring out how to make dance poseballs work (yes, this was way back when).  Jen and I spent so much time building, shopping for stuff, hiring people to script and build what we couldn't figure out how to do ourselves.  It was great fun and a great challenge for both of us.

  From that first effort on the Sterling Heights sim in February of 2007, then to our friend Ariel's sim "This Land", then expanding to a full sim on the "Blackburne" sim, onward to the Sailor sim where we downsized our hours and how much time the place was using up, then to the last days on the "The Verse" sim in 2013 we had a lot of fun, built up a pretty good community of patrons, seen our traffic go up, down, up, down again, worked our way through slow times and enjoyed the busy times.

  Jen and I met so many friends, people who left imprints on our lives, mostly positive, only occasionally negative, and enjoyed owning and running Firefly's for the last six years.
  Now, on the occasion of our sixth anniversary (which is like, forever in SL years), it's time to draw the curtain, take a last bow, and exit the stage.
  Jen and I both want to thank all of the wonderful people we've met over the years through Firefly's.  If I start mentioning names I'll be here all night so I'll just leave it at that.  We appreciate the support we got from so many people, patrons who donated to keep us in business, others who helped run the bar or DJ'd or bartended or danced on stage to entertain the crowd.
  It's not easy, making the decision to call it a day on a place that's been a part of your life for six years.  But everything comes to an end, and it's time for Firefly's to move on.

  In February of 2007 when Jen and I had our first Friday night open, with no one there in the bar but she and I for most of the night, we never would have imagined what the next six years would be like, how great so many people we met would be.

  Thank you all, from the bottom of our hearts. 

  Rick and Jen Aucoin, January, 2013

Goodbye, Cruel World

Well, after three+ years of making a go at rp in SL based around Firefly, it's time for me to throw in the towel.  I've been RPing at Nomos now long enough to know I want to RP in a larger community than I've been able to find or assemble in the Firefly areas.  Almost two weeks and I'm having fun at Nomos, so... it's with some regret I'm packing up Nack and all of the rest of my FFRP and putting them away on a shelf with other fond memories of things gone past.

It's been a distinct pleasure to know you folks, and I'll still be running Firefly's on Friday nights.  Firefly's isn't and never has been about RP. 

Farewell from Nack, Raids, Ravish, Savage, Jayne, Pillage, Tarlek, and many others I don't care to name.

Taking off from Eavesdown

As the cargo bay door sealed with a racket of clunks that reverberated through the small ship, Nack made sure the luggage for his passenger was strapped down against any sudden acceleration. Once the bay door was sealed Nack jogged up the ramp to the small bridge of the Osprey, shouting over his shoulder at Josie. “You’ll want to strap in up here in the second seat. We’re lifting in two minutes!”

Nack settled into the comfortable pilot’s seat and looked over the boards to make sure the auto-preflight check had gone as it should. Green lights across the board, everything was a-okay. Good thing, since if it wasn’t green he’d be stuck here longer, hiring a mechanic to figure out what the problem was.

The sound of the girl trying to manage the five point harness of the second seat got Nack’s attention. “Gorramit girl, we’re 90 seconds out, get buckled.”

“I’m trying! What is all this, who straps in like this on a ship anyway?” Her voice had gone up a full octave from the husky purr she’d used to sucker him into taking her as a passenger off these docks.

Nack spun in his chair and lunged at the second seat, startling the girl badly judging from the way her eyes went round and her head jerked back. Nack’s hands pulled straps and buckles from around her slender waist and jammed the rig into place tight around her, ignoring her protests as her breasts got more than a bit smushed and manhandled. Throwing himself back into the pilot’s seat just in time for its automatic strap system to wrap him up safely Nack heard the engines of the Osprey boom to life astern and the small ship started vibrating intensely.

Hands tapping out commands onto the boards, eyes focused on the readouts above, Nack muttered, “You’ll want to hold onto something and I sure hope you haven’t eaten anything in the last few hours”

“What? What did you saaayyyyyiEEIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!”

The courier ship leapt up off the landing pad; right on its launch window, not one second late or early. Blasting upwards and rotating to face nose to space, the Osprey was not a comfortable ride. G-forces pushed you down into your seat hard, rotated you around, dropped you a few hundred feet then drove you upwards hard again.

Nack was used to it; if he wanted a smooth ride he’d hire a real pilot. His passenger didn’t sound like she’d ever been on a ship quite like this though, judging from her screams of terror.

Barely audible over the roar of stupidly-overpowered engines and a young woman screaming in mortal fright right behind him, Nack heard the piping voice of his Blackburnian Leet, as always right on his shoulder.

“d00d, u suxxor!”

“Shaddup, Leetie…”

Passengers are always a bad idea.

Waiting for a launch window on the docks of Persephone.

How many hours wasted sitting on a couple of empty crates, waiting for his turn to get off this world and on his way back to Hale’s with cargo?  Too gorram many over the years.

This trip was a loss anyway, only a few crates of decent booze and one container of cigarettes.  Not even enough to pay for the fuel on this run, curse the luck.  Every smuggler, fence, and thief he knew at Eavesdown was out of luck this week.  Two in jail, one dead from a deal gone bad, the rest with nothing much to trade.

Sometimes you eat the bear, sometimes the bear eats you.

Whateverthefuck a bear was.

Adding insult to injury; a three hour wait for a launch permission.  

So… people watching from his seat on a busted old crate in front of the Osprey’s open bay while enjoying a nice buzz from a sample of synthetic opioids one of his friends on the docks set him up with.

There’s worse ways to spend a few hours.

“You.  There.  Ship Captain… Reynolds?”

The feminine voice didn’t really register to Nack’s ears, till it repeated the call, from much closer.  Turning his head his eyes alighted onto a lovely young redheaded woman, dressed in expensive core-world made “Rim World” style.  She was holding a printout of ships at dock in one hand and looking at Nack down her slender nose.

“Eh?  Wut?”

“You are Captain Reynolds of the… Osprey?  It said so on the registry for this berth.”  Nack’s preoccupation with the snug fit of her black pants delayed his response for several seconds. 

The girl raised one elegant eyebrow, tilting her head slightly.  She held out the printout of the dock register.  “It says you are going to Beaumonde.”

Oh, yeah, shit.  Reynolds.   Nack hadn’t used that fake ident in a long while and his slightly foggy synapses were trying to catch up, desperately.

“Yeah, Captain Reynolds, that’s me.”

Exasperation showed on the pretty face of the girl, her blue eyes narrowing.  “Yes, but are you going to Beaumonde?  The registry shows that as your next port of call.”

Nack rubbed his face with his hands and stood up.  “Sorry, yeah, Beaumonde.  Got a small bit of courier work heading that way… in about 20 minutes, I guess.”  Nack looked around for a timer to confirm his vague guess at how long until he was going to have liftoff approval.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Reynolds.  My name is Josie Gaidin and I would like to purchase passage to Kalidasa system on your ship.”

Nack blinked again, looking back at the woman. 

“Wut?”

“Captain, I am in a hurry.  It is critical that I get off this dock within the half hour and yours is the only ship going my way in that time frame.  How much do you want for passage?”

Way to open negotiations, darlin’.  Tell them you are desperate, you need to go now, and that you are the only ride available.  Let’s see… one billion credits…

Looking more closely at the girl’s face Nack could readily see stress writ clearly for anyone with eyes to see.  So, she was on the run.  Cops or family or boyfriend or husband… easier to deal with if it was cops… but the look of her… gonna guess boyfriend is two steps behind her.

“I’m not takin’ passengers, Miss.  Sorry.”  Nack sat back down on his crate, pulled out a cigarillo and thumbed his lighter active.  The girl, Josie, stomped a booted foot in frustration but quickly got herself under control and sat next to him on the crate, facing him and with her thigh touching his knee. 

She leaned in, an earnest look on her pretty-as-a-picture face.  “Please, sir, I can pay, and I truly need to be on your fine vessel when it lifts from this dock.”  Josie took Nack’s hand in hers, pleadingly.  “I have nowhere else to turn, I implore you sir, help me.”

Looking into her helpless beautiful face, Nack tossed a mental coin to decide between valiantly aiding this poor girl or shooting himself in the head right there for a damnfool.

The welling of tears in her big blue eyes sealed the deal.

“Erm… okay, darling, sure...hey, it’s alright…um, I’ve got a little space available that isn’t being used by valuable cargo, not much, mind you, but a little, and could use the company along the way.”

Truth was his courier’s cargo hold was ninety percent empty so there was a good 300 cubic meters of space without even trying hard.  And the girl could ride in the second cockpit seat.  Nack wondered if she was a chatterer.  Well… even if she is, she’s pretty enough to be distracting for the long flight.

Nack quoted her a price per cubic three times what a commercial flight would cost just to see what her reaction would be.  She agreed immediately and called over a porter flat which had been hovering just out of sight.  A truly heroic pile of fancy antique style luggage tottered its way to the loading ramp of the Osprey as Nack looked on in dismay. 

His card beeped as the money was acknowledged transferred before he had taken stock of the luggage and the woman hurrying herself up the ramp into the small ship, suddenly all business and composed. 

“Oh, Miss... might not be heading straight to Beaumonde....”

 

Watching for trouble.

The warbot, the one they are calling Ravish, is here for that damned 'bot we brought from Blackburne.  Nothing but trouble has come out of keeping that thing with us, we should have pushed it out an airlock on an intercept with one of the local suns.  But, that's water under the bridge where Jesus flung it now.

Several families have been killed by it.  Sometimes when it's spotted in the town there ain't no one about to challenge it, chase it off.  Someone innocent always dies when that's the case.  So I figure I'd best at least take my turn at watching for it.  There's a lot of wide open space that thing has to run across to get to the town, across the landing pads.  I'll take my chances with my shooting versus its dodging if it comes to that.

OOC: Naked Firefly RP In Second Life

Arising from discusions I've had with several of my fellow Firefly fans and roleplayers in Second Life, as well as a lot of thinking I've done on the nature of RP in SL, a new project has been started by myself and Imrhien Fargis.

There are several different types of players and participants in the RP scene on SL, none are superior or inferior to the others.  Each has its adherents, and one assumes that the members of each 'faction' of players enjoys what they do (otherwise they wouldn't do it, eh?).  Of late there have been quite a few discussions among the members of one of those factions about where to play, where to "be" their character.

With the closing of sims such as Eavesdown Docks and Beaumonde there are no obvious gathering places for this faction of players, which is the primary reason these discussions have taken place, but there are more factors at play than just not having a place to RP in their chosen style.  There's the fact that they play in a somewhat different style than the RP communities established around specific sims currently operating.

Somewhat in jest I came up with the labels "Naked" and "Not Naked" for the two primary divisions in the Firefly Roleplay community in SL. 

What I mean by these labels is a bit tongue in cheek but simply put, if you own 5 or more sex beds you may be a Naked faction member.  If you have spent as much money as the Gross National Product of South Africa on skins, clothes, hair, shoes, you may be a Naked faction member. 

If you spend fortunes on top quality buildings, spend hundreds of hours in photoshop making custom textures for the hull of your custom Firefly spacecraft, if you haven't owned a freebie item since your first week in SL... you may be a Naked faction member.

Talking to other players who felt like I do that we didn't really have a place, certain characteristics came out that we have in common.  A deeply held appreciation of aesthetics, an attention to detail, a willingness to spend either money or time (or both) to make our avatars our expressions of art.  Personal flickr pages to showcase our photography in SL, character blogs featuring stories not only about conflicts our characters may be involved in, but also the small, mundane, yet beautiful aspects of our fictional lives.

We may appreciate a good shoot 'em up fight, or not.  We may engage in promiscuous and lascivous personal behavior, or may refer to such "off screen".  But we all portray our characters as healthy, adult, members of a world based at least loosely on the Firefly tv show.

Do you get naked in SL? 

Do you not get naked in SL?

It's an admittedly juvenile designation and way of thinking of the different players and groups of players in SL, but... it works. 

And the Naked Firefly Roleplayers of Second Life don't really have a place to BE right now. 

So, lacking a specific sim or location in SL to point at and say "That is ours" we are trying a bit of an experiment.

A central location on the web for members of our faction to "be", which will collect blog posts, stories, and other communications and expressions of creativity from our members, to start with.  http://grou.ps/nakedfirefly

A Second Life Group to facilitate in-game communication.  Naked Firefly RP In Second Life.

A Flickr Group for sharing our visual creations effectively with each other. 

The hub of this community will be the grou.ps site.  More about this project will be posted there as time goes on, with Nack's blog being his generally In Character stories and such.

Let me know if you think you are a Naked Firefly RPer.  I'd be glad to invite you to join us. 

Eavesdown Docks: Jewelry and Dustpans

The old warehouse was getting cluttered fast with the tools and supplies that had been laid in over the last few days. Looking around the place from his seat on one of the couches he’d just finished upholstering Nack could only shake his head in mild wonderment. The availability of materials here for crafting was really incredible. Used to the scarcity of... well... everything from his years on Blackburne Nack was pleasantly surprised at the ease with which he was able to find materials to produce furnishings here on Persephone.

Stacks of rusty steel girders lined the back of the workshop, all still good metal under some rust, and acquired for the cost of nothing more than hauling it away from a fallen down building? Nack had risked life and limb on scavenging missions into the wrecked cities of Blackburne Moon more than once for far less material than he had sitting around his workshop at the Eavesdown Docks, and this all acquired for nothing more than a few credits here and there, a favor to a construction foreman, or hauling off the trash himself.

There were thousands of shards of glass carefully organized atop the workbench he moved to; a bonding tool resting to the side while Nack carefully finished buffing our the last rust spots on the steel girder he had heated and bent and turned until it was a full circle.

Using the bonding tool to attach the first sliver of glass into the framework of the girderwheel, Nack heard a tap at the window of his workshop and looked up to see a pretty young girl standing outside, waving at him. She rushed around through the doors of the old warehouse and walked into the Firefly Furniture Factory shop beaming with a smile.

"Hey, Ms. Freyja. Glad you found your way here." Nack smiled at the girl, and set down the piece of glass he was working with.

"Hi Nack!" the bouncy girl answered, her short red dress swirling about her knees as she approached Nack’s workbench. "I’m here to help you sweep up, like you wanted."

A blank look crossed Nack’s face for a moment then he remembered offering the girl a job a few hours a week cleaning up the workshop. "Yeah,sorry about the mess, I’ve been busy making... stuff."

Freyja looked around the cluttered space and refrained from commenting, "Do you have a broom here? If not I can run back to the Church and get one."

Shaking his head and turning back to the workbench, Nack waved his hand in the general direction of the back of the shop, "Back there, broom. I think." Picking up the bonder and the glass Nack considered the wheel shapped girder. Freyja stopped behind Nack as she made her way over the jumbled pile of steel and glass plates to find the broom.

"That looks very complicated. You must be very good at your job," she opined as she studied the glass shards and the partially complete project.

Nack chuckled softly as he finished bonding the glass to the steel, setting down the tools and picking up a filthy rag to wipe his fingers free of sweat, welding burns dotting the back of his hands and up his forearms from his work earlier with the girders themselves. "I don't know about all that... but I got the idea to see if I could fabricate some furniture from this scrap steel girder I was able to get for nothing but hauling it away from the old building site."

A frown on the pretty face of the girl was followed by her offering a clean handkerchief to Nack, her eyes on his cut and burned hands, "Are you okay? Here, use this instead; it’s clean, I promise."

After Nack hesitatingly took the clean linen Freyja went through the obstacle course of materials in the workshop to find the broom. "Hey, Miss, I don’t want to get this all dirty"

"You can call me Freyja, and if you don't use the handkerchief then it loses its purpose."

Nack wiped his battered hands with the white cloth, "Well, as you say, Ms. Freyja. Welding is a bit tough on the flesh, but I heal fast."

The sound of sweeping came to Nack as he turned to face the back of the shop where the girl was industriously pushing dirt and glass shards towards the center of the room. Without looking up from her work the girl said, "Just Freyja, okay? Or I’ll have to start calling you Sir again." Smiling, the girl looked up to see Nack watching her from the work bench, "Why not wear gloves? Or would it make much difference?"

Nack blinked then considered that for a moment. "Well... gloves make it sort of hard to feel what you are workin' with. Metal and wood and stone, glass and crystal, you... sort of have to feel it, touch it, to make it... well.. to make it bend to your will, I guess. And... I heal fast, burns and cuts aren't anything."

The girl nodded then, not looking convinced but unwilling to argue the point. Sidestepping a piece of sheet metal Freyja then laughed and in a singsong recited, "Nick-Nack pattywack give a dog a bone, this old man came rolling home...See, I know a poem with your name too."

Nack laughed as well, shaking his head as he did so and turning back to the ring of steel and shards of glass. "You know, I think I may have heard that one." And killed men for singing it, he thought but kept to himself. "That does remind me though, I did promise to tell you the tale of the Brisingamen and lovely Freyja.

Freyja stopped sweeping and stepped closer to the workbench, her eyes going wide. "Will you? I’ve been dying of curiosity since you mentioned it."

She stepped closer to where Nack was working, the bonding tool being used to carefully join another piece of glass to steel and to more glass, painstakingly assembling what would be a coffee table.

Nack’s eyes were intent on the glass in his fingers as he worked, his voice was a bit of a murmur as he spoke, "Of course... well... here is how it was..."

((And if you don’t know the tale, here is a short, reasonably good version of it: http://library.thinkquest.org/C0118142/norsepan/freyjane.php))

Eavesdown Docks: Boxing Day

Sitting on the sealed crates stacked in front of the Osprey, Nack watched the traffic of the docks come and go.  While waiting could be tedious, at least here it was never really boring.  Pretty girls strolling by, furtive businessmen darting past, colonial families pulling their worldly possessions behind them looking lost... it was better than the Cortex for entertainment.

Occasionally an acquaintance showed up, stopping to discuss business or catch up on old times.

“Hello, Guv’nor.”   Duncan Cooperstone still looked the same as last time Nack had seen him, when he was pounding sand on that dustball moon out on the Rim.  Dressed the same too, and with that same ridiculous broombristle mustache. 

Nack grinned and pushed back his hat, “Duncan.  How’s it goin?”

Duncan walked up into the shade of the Osprey’s overhanging cabin, “It’s going well enough.  You see this?”  Duncan handed Nack a bit of cheap plas with an advert printed on it.

“Bareknuckle boxing matches, here in the docks, eh?”  Nack looked up from the plas sheet.  “Nope, hadn’t seen it… there much money in it?”

Duncan grinned and nodded, “There can be.  If you’re interested I’ll stop by here and take you to the warehouse later.  Cut me in on the purse if you beat me out for it, me being so generous as to bring you in and speak for you.”

“Roger that, comrade.” Nack flexed his fingers and rolled his heavy shoulders, considering spending the rest of the evening sitting here doing nothing.  “Yeah.  I could use some free coin.  What the fuck Dunc, I’m in.”

Walking down the rickety stairs into the basement of the warehouse, Nack had a sense of déjà vu.  How many brawls and fights in places like this over the years?  More than he could count easily.  Fence wired cage for a ring, a heavy bag to warm up on, a timer on the wall to count round times… the smell of disinfectant was strong in the air but still barely covering up the lingering tang of blood and urine.

Nack busied himself warming up, stretching strenuously till the tendons in his legs burned like hot wire.  Duncan went over to talk to his woman, Gabe, who had already taped up her hands and wrists for fighting.  Nack considered that while pushing the heavy bag around for a while, the muscles of his arms loosening up nicely, a sweat starting to glisten on his bare shoulders. 

As more people started arriving Nack wiped his face with his dirty white tank top then sat on his heels against the wall to study the crowd, picking out the fighters and the gamblers, the dandies and the thrill seekers.  Some long armed men in the crowd had Nack wondering if this was a good idea.  It had been a few years since the last time he was in a serious fight after all…

Nack spotted that little slip of a girl from Calina’s dress shop, Moon Starship.  The girl was excitedly chatting with another woman, obviously looking forward to the fights.  The click of hard boot heels on the stairs drew Nack’s attention as the Sheriff of the Docks descended into the gloomy basement, scanning the room and making note of the fighters herself.  The Sheriff gave a friendly nod to the unpleasant looking little man in the bowler hat who was running this show and took a seat on a beat up couch, obviously not here in any official capacity.  Nack caught her eye and nodded to her with a slight smile.

Duncan Cooperstone came over to where Nack was resting against the wall.  “Full dance card,” the heavily mustached man stated, looking around at the crowd.  Gabe Yazimoto stood next to Duncan, nodded at Nack then joined her man in studying the crowd.

“How’s business been, Duncan?”  Nack stayed sitting on his heels, not really caring to be sized up by any of the fighters he could see around the room taping up their hands and punching the heavy bag.

Gabe glanced at Duncan as the heavy featured man answered, “You know the score; where it better we'd not be doing this for coin.”

Nack could only nod agreement at that, hoping he wouldn’t draw Duncan in a match; wouldn’t be right beating up a man in front of his woman just for some coin, even a fat purse like the one the local syndicate man was putting up for tonight.

Nack took his time unbuckling the thigh holsters on each leg, listening to the unpleasant little man with the bowler hat give out the rules.  One three minute round.  No knock out means both lose.  No weapons.  No other rules.  Same the ‘verse over.  Holding the pistol holsters carefully coiled in one hand Nack dropped them off in the lockbox near the score table and gave his name to the little man.  

The bowler hat tilted up, “You heard the rules, right?  My name is HwuanDanJoe and I run this dock so play this game right and don’t be cute.”

Nack nodded at HwuanDanJoe, “Right.  Just sign me up.”

Walking away, the sound of the little man greeting Gabe as she approached his table came to Nack’s ears.  “How about yourself, Ranger, you're usually good for a canvas dive…”

That man must own half the ruffians on this dock or sure as hell Gabe would have killed his sorry ugly ass by now.

“Welcome one and all to Joe's Dance At The CockPit, you all know why we are here...so let's not waste breath best spent countin' money.  Mister Barnes, first name of the night on the Bastard's dance card.  And Mister Marc Komarov will be matched against you”

The brawny young man named Marc stood, "So, good sirs and misses, are we all talk, or are we going to get bloody soon?"

Nack was really starting to dislike HwuanDanJoe’s voice.  And drawing the first fight of the night was pure crapluck for sure.  Waiting a bit and letting a few others get bloody, a few minor injuries to shake up the neophyte’s in the lists, gives a fighting man an edge.  But going first… there were different ways to play it for better money, all equally bad or equally good depending on your view.  Watching the lanky younger man climb into the ring Nack started calculating which way to go with this one; draw out the fight, barely win, get better odds next round?  Fast finish so the competition can’t evaluate his skill thoroughly?

Looking at the long muscular arms on this Marc fellow, Nack knew which way he’d have to go.  The ring of a cheap bell and Nack stepped forward deliberately, raising his fists.  The little Blackburnian Leet which, as always, gripped Nack’s shoulder piped out in it’s clear voice, “U n0t kaCh m3, i phast!”  Nack could only shake his head and mutter, “For fuck’s sake, Leetie shut up...”

Marc grinned at his friends in the audience and yelled, “Let’s rumble!”  The lad was enthusiastic; Nack had to give him that.  Throwing punches like a windmill, barely bothering to block or dodge.  Nack let the fight go on for almost a minute then rounded on the young man hard, putting him down with a flurry of fast blows.  The kid didn’t get up from the bloody mat as Nack walked out of the ring, ignoring the sting from his bloody knuckles, the clear voice of Sheriff Ghoststar talking to HwuanDanJoe made it to Nack’s ears as he sat on his heels in the corner of the basement.  “I’ll put another twenty paper on Mister Barnes there on his next fight.”

Always nice to be of service to the local law.

Fights rolled by one after another.   Nack watched the matches with varying degrees of interest.  The girls were sort of fun to watch, some were pretty vicious fighters indeed.  

Gabe Yazimoto drew her first round fight against Valiant Vuckovic, a local Corporate guy who ran a restaurant and some cargo craft.  Nack was surprised that the fight card was mixing women and men in the same matches, that was not explained at the start of this evening and Duncan never mentioned it either. 

Not that Nack had issues with fighting a woman if it was needful.  There’d been plenty of times where a hard bitten crew woman from a smuggler ship thought she had something to prove in Nack’s bar and ended up picking herself up off the floor with looser teeth than she’d had when she came in with her crewmates for a drink.  But this wasn’t over something important, wasn’t fighting over principle or protection; bareknuckle boxing was just… entertainment.  Something done for a little extra coin and to break the monotony of waiting around the docks for cargo. 

Watching Gabe bounce around on the balls of her feet, the lithe wiry woman shadowboxing to keep her muscles warmed up, Nack had a very bad feeling about this whole affair.

That bad feeling got even worse once the fight between Gabe and Val started in earnest.  Val was a big man, with the advantage of reach over the slight woman but Gabe was wickedly fast and had no fear.  When Val’s left fist crashed into the side of Gabe’s face she came back around without losing a beat and put her legs behind the uppercut that dropped Valiant Vukovic from the fighting ranks for the night, and likely for the next few weeks from the sound of his body hitting the hard mat.  Hawking pink spittle onto the ground as she bounced out of the ring, Gabe was obviously ready for more.  Duncan Cooperstone met her and picked her up, grinning like a fool under his black mustache.

“That’s the way, darlin’!” he spun her around once then set her down amid the congratulations of her friends and shipmates.  “Go jiejie!" shouted the medic from Gabe and Duncan’s ship, the Raivenn.  The pretty little gal, Emma Ditko was her name as Nack seemed to recall, didn’t hardly look old enough to drink, much less be here where there was so much blood and violence. 

Duncan offered a hand to help Gabe’s defeated opponent off the mat.  “Now you see why I don’t argue with her, eh, Val?”

HwuanDanJoe’s voice cut through the hubbub around Duncan and Gabe, “And let's see... be a shame to break up a happy home.  Cooperstone, step up."

Duncan took his time putting away his hat and taking off his thick blue workshirt.  A burly bull of a man in his middle years, Nack had seen Duncan in fights before; he packed a hell of a right punch.  But Duncan was a good 10 years older than Nack and his opponent for his match was a young rake named Claudio.  Nack watched the match carefully because either of these could be his next match.  Watching Claudio duck and weave around Duncan’s haymakers while punishing the big man with rapid fire shots to the midsection Nack could only shake his head.  Emma Ditko was hiding her face behind Gabe’s back before the end of the match; Gabe watching the match with barely checked fury gleaming in her eyes.  When Duncan dropped to the mat, one hand holding him from going completely prone, Gabe rushed forward and gripped the chain link fence like she could tear it open to help her man.  “Dunc…”

 

Claudio was receiving the cheers of the spectators and his friends.  Yanto Nayar shouted out “Good fight!” and others echoed the sentiment as Duncan looked around from the mat.

“Where’d he go?” Duncan’s mumbled words obviously tore at Gabe’s heart, she met him at the gate into the ring putting a hand on his thick forearm and looking up at his bloodied face, “Bao bei…”

“Thought you’d be bored of that by now!” came HwuanDanJoe’s voice, “You can’t keep running around with these young ones you know, Cooperstone!”

Nack calculated that the killing power of Gabe’s glare at the little man in the bowler hat should have been good enough to finish him off.  And kill his family.  And their friends.  And everyone who’d ever heard of him.  And all of their friends too.  Yet there he still sat, living and breathing, a smirk on his potato of a face.

Nack just shook his head, feeling for Duncan.  It’s a hard thing, getting older, when you’re a proud man and a fighter in your heart.  Duncan was a real Browncoat in the war, the war Nack wasn’t old enough to get into at the time.  Watching a young punk like Claudio take the man down was not the highlight of Nack’s evening here in this sweaty basement.

“Kling!  You are up.”

A pale young man stepped into the ring, all wired energy and fast feet.  The man who was called up to fight him, Kennet Deerhunter, had the look of a Borderworld nobleman’s son, fine hair and finer clothes, though they were black leathers and silver buckles all over.  From the crowd reaction Nack guessed he was part of Yanto Nayar’s crew.  He must have had at least a foot of height on pale Kling and that much reach as well.  Nack could barely pay attention to the fight though, sitting on his heels by himself in the corner, watching Duncan with Gabe and Emma, the medic patching up Duncan’s worst abrasions and wrapping hard tape around the man’s barrel of a chest.  Nack thought of his wife, Lauralai; where in Blue Sun sector she might be at that moment.  Maybe sitting at a hotel enjoying the pool at the conference she was attending; drinking those funny colored drinks with umbrellas in them.  Nack missed his wife then, enough to make his heart clench in his chest.  Nack never lost a fight when Lauralai was at his side, never once got out drawn or out fought when she was backing him.  Being here in this reeking cellar on a far away world from where he and Lauralai grew up, with blood on the mat and money changing hands constantly between sweaty strangers, Nack wondered how his feet had brought him down the road that led here, to this life.

 

The crash of the tall man, Kennet Deerhunter, as he bounced off the chainlink fence then impacted with the mat caught Nack’s attention; somehow he’d missed how pale little Kling had taken down the much larger and more powerful Kennet.  Cursing himself for a fool Nack forced himself to pay more attention to the fights and spend less time woolgathering.

Nack watched the next fight, surprisingly featuring the local Law, Sheriff Kris Ghoststar, against the woman who ran a tattoo business near the docks, River Starsmith.  The entire three minutes went by and the bout was called a double loss, but both women were smiling and laughing as they exited the ring.   Nack smiled up at Kris as the redheaded woman walked by, “You all right, Sheriff?”

She laughed as she wiped her face with a clean towel, “Yeah.  It was fun while it lasted.”

Nack started to join the laughter until he noticed the second round of matches had started.  Gabe Yazimoto had drawn Kling but was rubbing her ankle while it was being checked by Emma.  Gabe looked a bit white around the lips, “I might have to forfeit.  Busted my damn ankle.”

Relief flooded through Nack like a splash of clean water as he desperately tried to keep it from showing on his face.

The money he’d already put on this fight not coming back to him multiplied by a pleasing factor was obviously on HwuanDanJoe’s mind as he drawled, “Your old man worried you’re going to go down the same way he did, eh, Yazimoto?”

Gabe got to her feet and pushed past her medic and the rest of the crowd to walk to the ring with barely a limp, her face set in hard lines, “Can take these fellas on one leg.  Fine.  I’ll fight.”

“Kling!” a pleased HwuanDanJoe called out, “Get on in there and let’s see if you still have that fighting spirit.”

The pale young man with the angry expression shrugged and walked towards the ring.  “Sure,” was his only comment.

The fight went on for so long that even a hardened fighter like Nack could barely stand to watch the end of it.  Gabe limped out the victor but barely and whatever it was that had Kling’s face in a permanent expression of anger was obviously not on his mind anymore as he was carried out of the ring by his friends, blood dripping from his hair to leave a trail on the concrete slab of the basement.  Gabe went over to collapse into a chair, now being tended to by Duncan who was obviously very concerned for his woman, bruises already darkening her face badly, one eye almost swollen shut.

Nack fought several more rounds; none were competitive.  He stuck to the same strategy in each; knock the opponent out so fast that none of the other fighters could weigh his strengths and weaknesses well enough to game plan against him.  Each man was big and strong, probably a well known rowdy in his own circle of friends, but as rough a place as the Eavesdown Docks could be at times it wasn’t a pimple on the ass of a day in the life back on Blackburne at the downport.  As Nack sat on his heels after another match wiping his face with a dirty old rag he was pleased to notice only sweat on the cloth, no blood.  Some bruising around the middle tomorrow, that last fellow landed more than a few solid body blows, but that wasn’t going to be a big slow down in any upcoming fight for Nack.  The only thing left now was to find out who he’d be fighting for the championship and the fat purse that smarmy little shit HwuanDanJoe was offering for this party.

Nack stood in the ring, waiting for his opponent to be called up.  He’d lost track of the other fights over the hours, trying to just stay focused and uninvolved.  Bloody cuts across his knuckles bore evidence of his own matches won and it looked pretty good for taking home the prize tonight.  At least all this wasn’t for nothing was Nack’s thought.  Could do some good with that money, more good than HwanDanJoe would ever see done with it for sure.

Gabe stepped into the ring to face off against Nack, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet and punching at the air; obviously ready and willing to get this match on, Nack’s lips pressed into a thin line.  Rubbing his knuckles absently, ignoring the very soft coo’ing of his pet Leet who clung to his shoulder, Nack watched the wiry woman talk to her friends though the chain links, cocky and confident in spite of the bruises mottling her pretty face.

Nack looked behind him through the chain links, at a crowd of faces that were strangers to him. 

No friends, no crew, no family. 

"Come on!  Let's fight!" Gabe's voice carried over the rowdy crowd which was enthusiastically betting on this championship match.

“You.  HwuanDanJoe,” Nack addressed the little criminal in the bowler hat through the chain links of the fence.  “I broke my fucking hand against that last guy’s face.  I'll... have to forfeit.”

The outcry from the crowd washed over Nack, accusations of cowardice rolled past him unheard as he stepped down out of the ring and to the stairway, shouldering his way through the crowd.  Nack walked out of the old building and didn’t look back.

 

Eavesdown Docks: A new Sheriff in town.

The cargo crates stacked in front of the ship weren’t the most comfortable seats, but they’d do until the last cases of whiskey showed up.  At least the weather on Persephone was reasonably mild; waiting in the cold was never Nack’s favorite thing to do.  It never got cold back home on Blackburne.  Well, at least the company was nice here on Persephone; Nack entertained himself by fondly recall evenings spent with Calina Tereshchenko.

Half dozing and leaning against a sealed box, Nack waited.  Ten cases of top grade whiskey at a good price, even after paying the dock ruffians to leave his cargo alone, was a hell of a deal and more than worth the trip to Persephone.  Eavesdown Docks were a good place to do this sort of business, one of the best.  The click of boot heels striking tarmac roused Nack from his doze, his eyes catching the black uniform of the local law.

“Nice badge.  You the new sheriff?” Nack stood up and faced the woman who was walking his way.  Shiny new uniform, gold badge, black leather boots polished to a shine; she gave Nack a professional smile and approached the landing pad assigned to The Osprey.

“Hello,” her voice was smooth and friendly.  Too smooth and friendly to Nack’s ears and too young by far.  Young cops are never a good thing; all too often they are still fired up with Law and Justice. 

She stopped a handful of feet away from where Nack stood, his tattooed arms folded across his chest.  “Good afternoon, yes, I am the new Sheriff for the Eavesdown Docks district.”

Nack nodded, “Office still at the same location?  In case I need to pay a parking ticket or something?”

The cop twitched a smile, “Yup, same office, just new management.”

Nack’s lips didn’t echo the smile.  If anything they curled in irritation.  “Wonderful, glad to hear it.  A whole new crew to have to bribe.  A fellow just can’t catch a break in this ‘verse, can he.”

Watching her face to catch her reaction to the words, Nack shifted to sit on one of the sealed cargo containers, pulling one leg up so he could rest his thick arms on his knee.  The Sheriff lifted an eyebrow and replied, “Well, it looks like you cleared customs without a problem.”

“Yes ma’am, of course.”

The woman looked Nack over for a moment then examined the cargo containers scattered around, “So, nothing to cause me any problems, right?”

Weary of police and fencing with words, Nack stood up and faced the Sheriff directly.  “Look, I’ll be blunt, ma’am.  I’m not here to smuggle anything dangerous onto your dock. I own a bar out on a rim world. Things are scarce there. Hard to come by. And if sometimes it means picking up necessities at a dock like this where the previous owner of those necessities isn't aware of where they are being sold... sometimes that is the way of things.”

Nack paused a moment from his little speech, watching the Sheriff’s face, and then continued, “I just need to know what cut your office requires to keep from busting my balls.”

The Sheriff, and yes she was definitely young, cast a look up and down the docks, seemingly amazed that someone was openly and bluntly speaking of bribing a public official.  Instead of responding to the question from the ship’s captain she extended a hand, “I’m Sheriff Ghoststar.  And you are…”

Nack took her hand in his and gave it a shake, “Nack Barnes, Captain and owner of The Osprey.”

Retrieving her hand from Nack’s grip the Sheriff looked up at the cockpit of the small courier vessel and along its battered rusty hull, then back to its Captain.  “Well, Captain Barnes, it’s good to meet you.”

Nack’s lips pursed in slight annoyance and impatience, “I hope it’s good to meet you, but that’s up to you, ma’am.”

“You don’t really do ‘subtle’ do you, Mister Barnes.”  Sheriff Ghoststar made a bit of an effort to put on her “Cop” expression and address the issue of most concern, “I run a clean dock.  So long as you aren’t out raping and murdering you’re okay by me, Captain.”

Nodding his head, Nack sat back down on a crate, “Then we’ll be fine, Sheriff.  I’m not bringing danger to you or yours, just… buying things from folks who might not be the proper owners.”  Scratching his chin, a few days of stubble along the jaw line, Nack continued, “It’s a hard life out there, ma’am, and we do what we must.  Most times that involves paying off the local law.”

Shaking her head in bafflement at this continued discussion of bribery, Sheriff Ghoststar then shrugged, “Look, as long as the purple bellies aren’t coming down on me for what goes on here…”

A grin broke out on Nack’s face at that.  “Well, that’s always in everyone’s interest, isn’t it?  Avoiding any… official entanglements.”  Nack was relieved to see the Sheriff’s agreeing nod.

“Sounds good to me, Captain.”

“Well, Sheriff, most of what I come here to buy is fine liquor, wines, sometimes foodstuffs.  I’ll make sure the occasional case of good drink finds its way to your office, ma’am.”

The Sheriff smiled at that.  “Much obliged, Captain.  I think that would suit very nicely. 

As the Sheriff began to turn to walk away, Nack caught her attention, “Sheriff.  I wish you well in yer job here.  But… a bit of free advice, if you won’t take offense.”

Her head tilted a bit as she stood waiting, “Okay, sure, Captain Barnes.  What is this advice?”

Nack took a deep breath and let it out in a long slow sigh, “Ma’am.  If I might I’d ask that you keep in mind that most of us ain’t got no malice in us for the law, not really.  We’re just tryin’ to get by in this ‘verse.  Keep that in mind, eh?”

Sheriff Ghoststar considered that for a moment and nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind, Captain.  Thank you for your time and I wish you well in your endevours.  Stay lucky.” 

With that she turned and walked on to the next landing platform to continue her rounds.  Nack took a moment to appreciate the tightness of her uniform as she walked away then smiled to himself and leaned back on the crates, waiting for the rest of his cargo to arrive so he could get back home to Hale’s Moon.

Martial Law, huh?

Just before opening time at Firefly's the place is usually empty and even peaceful in a way.  The music hasn't started up yet, there is no hubbub of voices and laughter in the old converted factory building; just a sort of anticipation of the festivities of the night upcoming. 

Nack enjoyed sitting around the bar for a bit in that time just before cranking up the monster sound system at the bar.  A little peace and quiet time is a valuable thing for the DJ of a bar 'cause once the bass started rattling the bones in your skull, well, there wasn't a lot of room left for thinking carefully, just yelling and laughing at whatever came around.

The bartender for Friday nights, AlisonLynn, showed up just before opening time, ready for the nights business as usual.  A wave and a smile across the dance floor to the DJ booth where Nack was already lining up old vinyl albums as well as more modern memory disks of music for the evening.  General Parkin came in a few minutes later, his flat was right next door to the bar and there wasn't much point in trying to sleep or get anything productive done that close to the sound of the music that leaked out of the old building on a Friday night.  Besides, it was fun just to hang around the place and watch the people of Hale's Moon have fun to start the weekend.  Not to mention you never knew who might walk in from some other world out here on the rim, or sometimes from the borderworlds. 

Once the music started playing and the patrons started arriving Nack stayed up at the DJ booth, greeting people with a wave and a smile as they descended to the dance floor of the club from the entryway.  Making sure the music was set right, that the quirky mixing boards were doing their jobs without needing more tweaking, as well as just having a good vantage point over the dance floor to watch people have fun.  Looks like the start of another great Friday night party.

The woman who stood at the top of the entrance ramp caught Nack's eye immediately.  Not her good looks or titian red hair.  Those were common enough around these parts, especially on a Friday night.  But the clothing she wore marked her right out as from Coreward and likely an Alliance official of some sort as well.  Nack didn't react to her looking around the bar with anything more than a casual check to see if his pistols were in position and a glance at the DJ booth shelving to make sure the blast rifle he kept there in case of emergencies was still in easy reach.  Just in case. 

The woman spotted Nack up at the DJ booth and walked over with some deliberateness, a professional smile on her lips.  Nack groaned inwardly, "Oh, just great.  She's here looking for me."

"Hello, Mr. Barnes isn't it?"

Nack smiled pleasantly at the lady, "Yes, sure is.  Nice to meet you, Miss..." letting the sentence trail off in a query.

"Bethany Lionheart, Diplomatic Corps assigned to this moon during the current difficulties.  I was looking to meet you, you can be a hard man to find, did you know that?"

The woman's smile never quavered into anything like a threat which meant she must be pretty damn good at her job.  Which put Nack's hand closer to the pistol in his leg holster.  Alliance operatives are best shot immediately and in the head without questions and without hesitation. 

Nack fiddled with the mixer board slides with one hand to draw attention away from his other hand moving to his pistol holster, "What difficulties would that be ma'am?  Ain't seen any difficulties here in my bar."

"The martial law situation, Mr. Barnes.  I'm sure you have heard.  The local Elders refer to you as one of the community leaders and as such I'm sure you are well connected with information sources in the local government as well.  I wished to make myself known to you and to give you my contact information in case there were any problems you wished to discuss with me arrising from the occupation."

The woman handed over a slip of plas, her ident and such engraved.  Nack tucked it into a vest pocket and shook his head at the woman, "Well, I appreciate the thought and all, ma'am, but I ain't no kind of community leader.  I'm just a simple barman, running a business.  And Alliance or rebel, any are welcome to be here at my saloon, as long as they are drinking."

Nack gestured to AlisonLynn to mix up a martini for the Alliance Diplomat in spite of Bethany's shake of the head to decline the offer.

Nack smiled at the woman again, looking her straight in the face this time.  "You don't understand, ma'am.  It's either have a drink or get out.  I don't trust anyone who won't drink and if you aren't here to drink, yer in the way of my business."

The redheaded woman kept her smile in place and seemed genuinely amused by the situation.  "I'll go ahead and go, I'd not like to be in the way of your business, right now.  But you keep my card Mr. Barnes and I will let you know if the occupation administration requires anything of you, later."  The last yelled at the top of her voice since Nack had been sliding the house speaker volume slider upwards as she went on.  With the bass thumping shaking concrete dust from the rafters to drift down across the dance floor the woman stopped her undignified yelling and grinned just a little at the juvenile maneuver as Nack held his hand cupped to his ear while looking at her.

Turning and strolling out as if she didn't have four or five ex-browncoats staring at her from various spots in the bar, hands near weapons Bethany Lionheart had certainly gotten the attention of the rabble of Hale's Moon.

 "Well... just friggin' lovely this is going to be.  Martial law, eh?  This is going to just be real fun, you bet."

Stupid Alliance Jockey

[16:19] Korro Bravin: This is the Alliance courier vessel Commonwealth, requesting landing quardenats for the boarder moon of Blackburne

[16:20] Nack Barnes static reply "State your business with us, Commonwealth."[16:20] Korro Bravin: just aroutine patrol

[16:21] Nack Barnes garbeled reply on shaky equipment, "Then keep moving, you ain't welcome here."

[16:21] Korro Bravin: Disallowing landing is a strict viloation of condut for rim world you know

[16:22] Nack Barnes static and hissing, "Yep, sure do. If you purplebelly bastards have a problem with that, I suggest landing and we'll talk about it. Bring a lot of freinds, is my advice. And make peace with your dear and fluffy lord first. Blackburne out."

Funny fella with blue gloves on

There I am working with a shovel around the waste ditch, fillin' in some holes, and this fella came up to me. Wearing fancy suit, core-worlds written all over. Hadn't heard of any Core type ships landing at the Downport, but however he got here there he was.

[12:32] Mindo Lupindo: Captain Nack Barnes I presume.
[12:32] You: Hello. Yep, I'm Nack Barnes
[12:32] You: You in from offworld, recent then?
[12:32] Mindo Lupindo: We are just paying a visit to ensure the safety of one of our...charges.[12:33] Mindo Lupindo: We will not be staying and have no issue with your people.
[12:33] You: And who would we be?
[12:33] Mindo Lupindo looks at his hands
[12:33] Nack Barnes glances, means nothing to him, quirks an eyebrow.
[12:33] Mindo Lupindo: We represent a large Enterprise with global interests.
[12:33] Mindo Lupindo: Good day, Sir.
[12:33] Nack Barnes nods.
[12:33] You: Watch yerself around here, neighbor.

Action on Hale's Moon

Lorie and I were taking the Osprey out for a trial run, with the new atmo plant parts that Captain Meyers found for us. We were out Hale's Moon way (again) and got an SOS all garbled and chopped up, but sure enough, the Alliance was hitting the moon again.

We landed fast, ran out of the Osprey with guns drawn. Lorie was wearing her beach shorts and flip flops, and I have a cast on my right leg from the last time I came to Hale's Moon to help with an Alliance raid... not good.

First thing we noticed was that there weren't any civilians around, and no militia. Place was dead quiet. But we heard an odd whirring sound.

Looking up, we saw an Alliance atmosphere fighter craft, bearing down on us, guns blazing.

Running for cover we returned fire with just the small arms we had, but tell ya what, that pilot must have been damned suprised when those shots hit vital spots on that flying ship of his.

He crashed, we ran over to the wreckage. He climbed out and took a few shots at us with a pistol, we shot back, of course. He hit the ground but before we could check him some armored Alliance Troopers came at us from down the street.

Long running gun fight, and I couldn't even run, just hobble along on my broken leg in its cast. Luckily Lorie's bare legs seemed to distract the troopers a bit. We bagged one of them and the other got his injured buddy out of there.

We went back to check on the pilot, noticed there was a CNS reporter there too, looking a bit wild eyed at having been caught up in a fire fight.

[17:51] Alliance Pilot tries to get rid of his breathing mask as he slowly bleeds out and is obviously dying
[17:51] Nack Barnes grabs the pilot by the shirt, "Who ordered this attack! Tell me!"
[17:52] Alliance Pilot: "nnngh..!" *tries to breath..bites his teeth together* scharnebek,,,,commodore....akkh
[17:52] You: Who? Who???
[17:52] You: Commodore who??
[17:52] Nack Barnes shakes the man violently.
[17:53] Nack Barnes drops the fellow back to the pavement.
[17:53] Alliance Pilot coughs and tries to stay awake
[17:53] You: Gah.
[17:53] Tillery Woodhen: i think he said scharnebek
[17:53] You: That name mean anything to you, Tillery?
[17:54] Tillery Woodhen: Not off hand
[17:54] You: Huh.
[17:54] Alliance Pilot tries to catch a last breath..."help me....."
[17:54] You: Well, reckon this is as good a place as any for this good Alliance pilot.
[17:54] Tillery Woodhen notices the blood pooling
[17:54] Tillery Woodhen: maybe if you get him some med care, he'll be able to talk
[17:54] Nack Barnes shoots the pilot in the head.
[17:55] You: I don't think so.
[17:55] Alliance Pilot dies
[17:55] Tillery Woodhen gasps.
[17:55] Lorie Lilliehook sighs.

I headed back to Blackburne with Lorie. Don't much know or care what the CNS Reporter did with the dead body of that Pilot. I just know it's one less Alliance fighter to come against us in whatever is brewing out here.

Is it... The Alliance?

Stella Linden: oh my the town is theirs as well?
Stella Linden: i'll have to check that out...
Kari Niven: Yes. *nods*
Kari Niven: Watch out for Reavers.
Stella Linden: sorry, geeking out over here...
Stella Linden: OH MY.
Kari Niven: They've been spotted in the area lately.
Stella Linden: all right. at the very least i am armed...
Kari Niven nods, "Good, good."
Stella Linden: ...and i have god powers... so. heh.
Stella Linden: :D
Kari Niven: Can never be to careful out here on the rim worlds!

From the porch, Kari and Amyla

Kari Niven smiles, politely keeping her teeth covered.
Amyla Wakowski smiles. "Hi, Kari."
Kari Niven wrinkles her nose a little, "Someone got shot here on the porch recently. Do you know what happened?"
Amyla Wakowski: It was that Alliance woman. She, uh, said the wrong things, didn't leave... Nack gave her ample opportunity to get the hell away. But... well, she was stupid.
Kari Niven: Nackie told the person to go, and the person didn't go?
Kari Niven laughs, long and hard.
Amyla Wakowski: Yeah.
Kari Niven wipes a tear of mirth from her eye.
Kari Niven: Oh, goodie.
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski: 'Course, we were ready to shoot her ourselves if she came back...
Kari Niven smiles again, 5 inch white fangs gleaming.
Kari Niven: People don't understand my brother. They think he's a sweetheart.
Kari Niven giggles again.
Kari Niven: People can be stupid.
Amyla Wakowski shakes her head a little. "Don't know why they keep underestimatin' him. *I* know he's hardcore—even if he can be the nicest guy in the 'Verse, you don't cross him. Yeah, people are foolish."
Kari Niven: Tarlek has buried... oh... dozen, maybe more, Alliance busybodies in just the last year that Nackie shot.
Kari Niven grins again.
Amyla Wakowski: They just don't seem to quit...
Kari Niven: Because they are fools.
Kari Niven: They won't leave us be, even after the hurt they did us.
Amyla Wakowski sighs.
Amyla Wakowski: Speakin' of Alliance annoyances... got this, uh, ex boyfriend, said he's gonna pop by. I plan on bein' extra-scarce when he does, God willing.
Kari Niven extends a razor sharp claw and picks between her fangs with it.
Kari Niven: Amyla want Kari should make an accident happen to him?
Amyla Wakowski: Ah, no... Chol's prepared to rough him up, though.
Kari Niven: Is no trouble at all, and easiest way to get rid of irritating ex's.
Kari Niven nods.
Kari Niven: Kari can put him in unmarked grave with the rest of them.
Amyla Wakowski: He can be a jerk, but... don't wish him dead. Not unless he gets... threatening.
Amyla Wakowski: I finally got 'round to wavin' him back an' warned him no matter who he works for, he starts trouble, he'll be on the wrong enda some bullets.
Kari Niven shrugs, "Kari is a simple girl, with simple solutions. Finds the complications of human life baffling sometimes."
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Amyla Wakowski: He ain't the worst sort. Just a bit... tetchy. An' we were just a bad combination.
Kari Niven: Have had ex's like that. Killed one of them, she got too "tetchy" as you say.
Kari Niven shrugs.
Kari Niven: Life is very hard for hoomans. :(
Kari Niven: Life is very simple for Kari. :)
Amyla Wakowski: Yeah... humans are all kindsa complicated.
Kari Niven giggles, "If it makes you happy, Kari understands."
Amyla Wakowski smiles.\
Kari Niven: Still, if you want this boy to disappear, you say to Kari.
Amyla Wakowski nods. "Will do."
Kari Niven: Kari have no problem getting him alone.
Kari Niven smiles innocently.
Amyla Wakowski: If he's smart, he'll come for the martinis and do no worse than get into a little manly tussle.
Amyla Wakowski: And he can be smart, when he wants to be.
Kari Niven nods, "Nackie won't shoot someone for bar fight. He'd have no business if he did."
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski giggles.
Kari Niven sighs sadly, "Been long time since Kari was in bar fight. People are so well behaved now. It's boring."
Amyla Wakowski: Yeah, figure we're due for some brawlin', next time some o' those Alliance servicemen take shore leave.
Kari Niven nods excitedly.
Kari Niven: That would be fun!
Kari Niven: Kari hurt one bad last time, Lauralai was mad.
Amyla Wakowski: Aw.
Kari Niven: So next time Kari will be more careful!
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski pouts a little. "Chol made me promise I won't get into any fights."
Kari Niven: What kind of male would do that??
Kari Niven looks horrified.
Amyla Wakowski: Well, we're gonna have a baby... he's bein' protective.
Kari Niven: But... Kari doesn't get. You still hunt and provide while carrying, males still lounge around and take the best of the hunt and sun themselves... what's that got to do with fighting?
Kari Niven sniffs, "Why Kari has no use for males. They are worthless. Except for making young."
Amyla Wakowski: Human males can be a little different. Some of 'em, anyway.
Kari Niven: Hmmmm. Maybe so. But still, seems to Kari they take the best of the hunt and still sit around while the females do the real work.
Kari Niven: That way in the bed too.
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski chuckles.
Kari Niven stretches her long arms, fingerclaws snickting out then back in.
Amyla Wakowski: Guess I'm lucky, then. Chol's pretty fair in sharing the workload.
Kari Niven: Maybe Amyla is lucky then.
Kari Niven nods.
Kari Niven: Kari tried out a couple of human males.
Kari Niven sighs.
Amyla Wakowski: Oh, there's plenty of dissappointing ones. The majority, maybe.
Kari Niven: They not much different from mutant males.
Kari Niven sighs.
Kari Niven: But at least the lion males Kari has had were... energetic and had endurance.
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski gigles.
Kari Niven sighs, "But, still, for Kari, seems they good for making young, and even at that they aren't really very good."
Kari Niven purrs and stretches, "Pride sisters much more fun."
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Kari Niven looks sad.
Kari Niven: Miss my lion family. But Kari can't stay with them. Kari to different, why she came here when a cub and got caught by Nackie's family, stealing food.
Kari Niven: Amyla misses her family too.
Kari Niven nods.
Amyla Wakowski: Yes, I do.
Amyla Wakowski: But they're on Persephone... an' things bein' as they are, ain't easy to go back there. Might be hard gettin' back.
Amyla Wakowski: Would cause a whole mess o' trouble if I got stuck offworld.
Kari Niven: Kari wanted to go see other worlds.
Kari Niven sighs.
Kari Niven: But, mutants here, we scared of Alliance.
Kari Niven: There's none like us out there, so we hide here.
Amyla Wakowski: Yeah... I'm lucky, I look like a regular human.
Kari Niven: Can help, but also makes it hard.
Kari Niven: Kari can travel wastes, doesn't get hurt by radiotions as much.
Kari Niven: Kari sees her lion family now and then out there too.
Kari Niven makes a small smile.
Kari Niven: But for humans, is hard out there.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Kari Niven: amyla know how fast cheetah run?
Amyla Wakowski: Really-really-really fast?
Kari Niven giggles.
Kari Niven: Up to 65mph sprints.
Kari Niven: Eveyone knows cheetah fast, yes.
Kari Niven: Amyla know how fast girl lion run?
Kari Niven has a bright gleam in her green eyes.
Amyla Wakowski: Also really-really-really fast?
Kari Niven purrs, "Up to 55 mph. That is thing no one seems to know. And girl lion much much bigger and stronger than cheetah. When hit you at 55 mph, is making parts of you fly apart."
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski grins.
Kari Niven: So, Kari can't go to places on other worlds, but can do things here that need to be done and no one else does safely.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Kari Niven: Why Kari is in wastes so much. So little time here.
Kari Niven: Kari's 5 years of life spent most here, but now having to be in wastes mostly.
Kari Niven: You have young, Kari hopes it lives. Hooman's here loose 90% of them before born, makes everybody sad.
Kari Niven: If happens, keep trying. Nackie and Lauralai say need all babies.
Amyla Wakowski: Um, yeah. I hope so, too.
Amyla Wakowski: Still, 10% odds are better than none.
Kari Niven: Is.
Kari Niven: Then you hope young is born without things wrong, because that happens so much here too.
Kari Niven: It's the Alliance that did that to us.
Kari Niven: Is why we hate them.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Amyla Wakowski: I was here before the War. My pa got us offworld quick as he could went things got bad.
Amyla Wakowski: But not 'fore some things got dropped.
Amyla Wakowski: My mama and sister still got sickness.
Kari Niven: Nackie said things were green and there was farms all over.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Kari Niven: He showed me pictures.
Amyla Wakowski: My granddaddy had a farm.
Kari Niven: Kari has a hard time understanding farms.
Kari Niven shrugs.
Kari Niven: Making foods come out of the dirt seems silly.
Kari Niven: Just go kill it and eat it. Is easier.
Amyla Wakowski: Sometimes. Depends on the place. Depends on how many need to eat.
Kari Niven: All the green is dangerous though. Kari doesn't see how people feel safe like that.
Amyla Wakowski: I may be human, but I don't understand 'em a lotta the time, either.
Kari Niven: Is it true on other places the green isn't deadly spots?
Kari Niven sighs.
Amyla Wakowski: Oh, yes.
Kari Niven: Kari will never understand other places.
Kari Niven: Here, you in wastes, you see green growing, you go other way.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Kari Niven: Things at green places will eat you before you can eat them.
Kari Niven: Kari's seen a few. Not many. Very dangerous.
Amyla Wakowski: Green used to be a good color, a long time ago. Green that Alliance chemicals and bombs make, though, that's bad.
Kari Niven: In wastes, green is color of death.
Amyla Wakowski nods sadly.
Kari Niven: There is green, there is plants and water.
Kari Niven: There are plants and water, there are things that will eat you fast.
Kari Niven: You run from places like that, Amyla, you see them.
Amyla Wakowski: I will.
Kari Niven: Even slow hooman run, do.
Amyla Wakowski: Don't plan on goin' into the wastes, but what I plan and what takes plan ain't always exactly been similar.
Amyla Wakowski: *what takes place
Kari Niven: Kari knows how that is!
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski must afk for food, brb
Kari Niven nods, leans back on couch.
Amyla Wakowski is back.
Kari Niven flicks her ears up.
Kari Niven: Is good place to relax.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Kari Niven inhales deeply, "No scent of Reavers or anything today."
Amyla Wakowski: Heard we mighta got the last of 'em for now.
Kari Niven: kari is sure of it.
Amyla Wakowski: Good.
Kari Niven: Kari scouted wreck when happened, sure all are dead now.
Amyla Wakowski: Those were especially ... persistent.
Kari Niven: They are broken in their heads.
Amyla Wakowski: Thought they were gonna get me that one night, when I was in The Cup. And that door is thick and tough!
Kari Niven: Amyla shoots them if they come. Is better to shoot them fast.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Amyla Wakowski: I try.
Amyla Wakowski: Everybody tells me I should hide, though, instead of fight.
Kari Niven: Kari can't use gun, but doesn't like them anyway.
Kari Niven: Huh.
Kari Niven: Hide.
Kari Niven: Hide is no good most times.
Kari Niven: Kill is better.
Kari Niven giggles, "Kari hid when cub, stealing food. Didn't work."
Kari Niven: Kari was lucky Nackie's family took her in though.
Amyla Wakowski: Everyone tells me what to do. Because they care, I guess. Gets tiresome, though.
Kari Niven: Tell them to fuck off.
Kari Niven nods.
Kari Niven: That's what Kari does.
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski giggles.
Kari Niven: Nackie used to try to protect Kari.
Kari Niven: When Kari was two years, Nackie came to protect Kari when the old Shepherd tried to force himself on Kari.
Kari Niven giggles at the memory.
Amyla Wakowski: Oh my.
Kari Niven: Saw Kari tear stupid old man's heart of of chest and bite into it.
Amyla Wakowski: Good move.
Kari Niven: Nackie got mad because Kari's not to eat peoples, but he deserved.
Kari Niven: Nackie stopped trying to protect Kari then.
Kari Niven purrs at the happy memory.
Amyla Wakowski nods emphatically. "People like that deserve that."
Kari Niven: New Shepherd is nicer. Kari hopes she doesn't have to eat his heart too.
Kari Niven: New Shepherd says Kari has soul, old Shepherd said Kari was animal.
Amyla Wakowski: Yes... Shepherd Nieuport seems decent.
Kari Niven: Is Kari's Blueberry well?
Kari Niven: Kari hasn't seen him as much lately.
Amyla Wakowski: Oh, he worries on things. A lot. As usual.
Kari Niven: Kari always thought that a silly thing to do.
Amyla Wakowski: He says I trust people too easy, think some of the people we know.... that we don't know 'em so well as we thought, an' they could make trouble for us.
Amyla Wakowski: I don't wanna worry so much.
Kari Niven: Hmmm.
Kari Niven: Blueberry worries too much.
Amyla Wakowski: Yes. he does.
Kari Niven: Kari loves Blueberry though.
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Kari Niven: And is glad he has mate now.
Kari Niven nods.
Amyla Wakowski blushes a little.
Kari Niven: Hoomans like lions, they need family.
Amyla Wakowski: Yes.
Kari Niven: Amyla know lions only cat with socials.
Kari Niven nods.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Kari Niven: Hard for Kari to spend so much time alone in wastes, but must be done.
Kari Niven: Tarlek can't do all hunting and scavenging.
Kari Niven: He's drunk too much.
Amyla Wakowski: And it's a big job.
Kari Niven: He finds such gfood stuff too. Tells Nackie where to go to get parts for stuff.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Kari Niven: Kari can't find stuff as good, but kills dangers better than Tarlek.
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski smiles.
Kari Niven: Kari thinks Tarlek will get eaten some day.
Kari Niven nods.
Kari Niven: He drinks too much out in wastes.
Amyla Wakowski: So I've heard...
Kari Niven: He's broken in the head too.
Amyla Wakowski nods.
Amyla Wakowski: A lot of us are...
Kari Niven: Mrrr. Most are just hooman, and most hooman's kind of broken in the head.
Kari Niven giggles.
Amyla Wakowski chuckles. "True enough."
Kari Niven: Kari must hunt! Bye, Amyla. Nack says Kari is always to say bye, though Kari doesn't get that.
Amyla Wakowski: Bye.,.. I'll see you when I see you.
Kari Niven waves happily and bounds off.