Beginning of the End (OPEN)

[CITRA MONTENEGRO]

"Think about it this way, love. You keep this up, and you die. You go ahead and stop your damn ship, and I stop trying to kill you. Deal?"

"We know who you are. You're the Captain of Huntress. We've heard the horror stories. I have absolutely no intention of letting you on board my vessel, you get me? I've outrunned ships faster than yours."

"Oh, I've no doubt about that. I've heard about you too, Captain. I know how fast your ship is. You could probably out run a ship on hard burn just by limping along. Unfortunately for you, that's not what you need to outrun. See, you think you're worth more alive than dead. The truth is, all I want is a little bit of salvage. You know what I have in our missile bays. I'd love for you to outrun those, Captain Anderson."

"Wait, wait, hold on a second. We're carrying civilians! There's children on board! You might be a pirate, but you won't shoot down a transport ship filled with innocents just to get a little salvage, would you?"

"Oh, but I would. See, for all I know, you could be lying. In fact, I think you sound quite untrustworthy, Captain. I might have to send the entire payload just to be careful."

"Fine... fine... I'm cutting the engines now. Just don't hurt the civilians."

"Ah, thank you Captain. Much appreciated. We'll be docking in your open shuttle bay. I expect to see you in person upon arrival. And remember, no funny business now. You pull anything, and the Alliance will find nothing but space dust to mark your demise. Lady Huntress out."

Citra cut the vid-link with a smile. Captain Anderson of the Firefly-class Hotaru had decided he was going to play nice with her. A wise decision, by her reckoning. She hadn't been bluffing when she made the threat to obliterate the entire vessel. Huntress's current missile supply was greatly reduced from the max, the result of having been unable to rearm in quite some time, but there was more than enough weaponry packed in her weapon bays to blow a mere Firefly into the next life. Granted, most Firefly's would go down after taking a few rocks to the cockpit, but that was besides the point. Simply put, Citra could have put that ship into the dirt, and she hadn't needed to. Win-win for everyone involved.

Instead, it looked like her and her crew were going to be walking away with yet another profit. And that was even without taking the ship.

--------------

Persephone

It had been awhile since Citra had last set foot on Persephone, and for damn good reason. The last time Citra had set foot on this shithole of a planet, she had managed to get herself and her crew involved in a massive four way firefight in the middle of the spaceport. It hadn't been her fault, not really. The Alliance had started that one. A gunfight is just what happens when you attempt to arrest the leaders of three different criminal crews at the same meeting, and make all of them assume the other betrayed them. Citra had lost three good men in that fight, and had absolutely no desire to see a repeat of that day's events. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have even bothered returning, but it seemed the 'Verse was getting smaller all the time, and buyers for her stolen goods were getting fewer and fewer. And in any case, it had been over a year since that little incident... the Alliance had probably forgotten all about that little barrel of shenanigans, right?

The contact she had been doing business with today was a man by the name of Jaxson Crayder, a criminal of some reputation who she had done business with several times in the past. She had owed him a number of favors from years past, and he had decided to call in on one of those recently. That had been what the whole Hotaru event had been about. Jaxson had needed something he had heard the ship had been carrying, and had offered to pay Citra if she'd intercept the ship and acquire it. Citra hadn't cared too much about completing the job, especially considering she was fairly certain Jaxson had been trying to double cross her in the past, but it was a substantial pay that had been promised, and she wasn't exactly in a situation which allowed her to be picky as to what she did.

The meeting with Jaxson had gone fairly well, and he had extended his thanks to her crew as well as roughly a one month's supply of outlandishly expensive whiskey. The whiskey alone would have been worth the job, but she wasn't complaining about the large stack of credits that came with it. The alcohol would be a definite morale boost for her guys, as the last supply of booze they had had on board had tasted like it came out of a drunkard's toilet. And those credits, they could go towards securing a supply of weaponry from one of the local black market dealers to fully arm Huntress's missile tubes. All in all, it had been a successful day, one which she felt like celebrating.

After telling her guys they had the rest of the day to do as they wished, Citra made her way into one of the many bars which dotted the Eavesdown Docks. It was a dingy place, definitely not a place that someone of good reputation would find themselves in. Citra didn't mind though. 'The Winking Rat" had always been a personal favorite of hers, and even after a year of absence, the place was almost exactly the same as it had been when she had walked out the door. Nearly empty, aside from a scattered few patrons here and there, it was a simple matter to find her way to the bar and flag down the 'keep. A scarred guy who looked like he'd seen a few too many fights in his day, the barkeeper glanced over at Citra with a silent look of surprise, before grinning and heading her way.

"Citra!" he laughed, grabbing a glass from under the counter. "Haven't seen you here in ages. Finally decided to come crawling back, eh?"

"You know me, Korvaun," she said with a grin. "I just couldn't stay away from you. What with your outlandishly good looks, supernatural charm, and horrendous drinks."

The man laughed, before pouring a drink into the glass and passing it to Citra. "Here's your usual. I'll go ahead and reopen your tab. I hope you don't plan on running out on me again, Citra. Last time you left, I was cleaning blood for weeks." Glancing down at one of the other patrons on the other end of the bar, he smiled. "You'll have to excuse me. I have to deal with the other patrons. You planning on staying late?" Citra nodded in the affirmative. "Shiny. We'll have to catch up after closing," Korvaun said, before hurrying off.

Leaning against the counter, Citra just smiled, and took a sip from her drink. She'd forgotten how much she missed it here. For all its downfalls, Persephone still managed to win out in her heart as one of her favorite planets in the entire 'Verse.

[DOMINIC HART]

Persephone. A disgusting, filthy planet, full of disgusting, filthy people. So many criminals, like rats, littered the streets, made the entire planet a social toxic wasteland. If there were any people to be saved here, well, Dominic wasn't going to be one to find them. So many people he should be arresting, should be bringing to justice, and yet he couldn't -- and, in a way, he didn't care. No, that's not right, he did care, but he couldn't act on those feelings, now could he? So he had to push them away. That's how feelings work: they don't fit quite right, shove 'em elsewhere. Ugh, no, wait, now he was even thinking in Frontier Slang. But I have to, he reminded himself. Your cover is your life. I am Colin Grimshaw.

Colin Grimshaw. Poor, silly boy from a backwater planet a few weeks away from Persephone, a planet called Jiangyin. There, he was part of a small town, but he longed for adventure and so caught the first trip out of there. He knows how to use a gun and owns two, a small pistol and the rifle, both presents from his parents. Grimshaw has a father who was in the military but was crippled in a fight, an ambitious mother, an older sister, and older brother, and a younger sister about whom he cares very dearly. Just like Dominic. The best lies, after all, are the ones that are closest to the truth. It makes it easier not to forget, as well. And besides, nobody's really going to care enough to look up a "Carter Grimshaw" in Alliance databases, only to find that he doesn't exist. Dominic figured he was safe. After all, playing the part of the curious young boy, thinking himself a "hero" like from stories, wasn't too difficult. He almost was playing himself, in a way.

It had been a few days now, at least, that he had been wandering around Persephone. Recently, he had been a passenger on a scavenger ship that was caught by an Alliance patrol. He had to give his code to get out of the situation; he couldn't very well carry his identification card around with him, now could he? But he could have something memorized, and he did, and he hitched a ride on back to Persephone, the best place to find a crew to join, in his experience. He hadn't been here too often, but it's what he knew from all his work, both in school and out, so far. It was best not to become known. Colin Grimshaw needed to stay small time, however big he wanted to get. Just had one goal, and one goal alone.

Find River Tam.

Oh, and Simon Tam, too, of course, but mostly River Tam. Dominic was doing his work as a bounty hunter, really, a sad profession. He needed the money and the purpose, the hunt. Finding those fugitive siblings was Dominic's life. Not Colin's, of course, so it couldn't seem to be too much, but he actually didn't know anything. Nobody prepped him for this assignment and it was his first real one on his own. Sure, he'd done little fed work here and there, but never alone and never something so classified, so high up. He needed to get them. And then what? Well, he'd figure that out then.

Filthy, filthy Persephone. Dominic glanced over his shoulder, then shook his head, adjusting the baseball cap Colin always wore. Hanging around the port all the time was bound to look sketchy and make someone notice, so he figured, better switch it up a bit. Maybe something would rear its ugly head in a bar somewhere. Quickly, but not too quickly, Dominic made his way into the twisted, maze-like streets, until he wound up exactly where he was heading (or so he says; really, it was the first bar he found): "The Winking Rat". Looked average, y'know, all dirty and smelly, the color of sun-kissed dirt, the same color that the rest of the planet seemed to be. Honestly, if the Alliance was going to terraform, it should at least make the planets greener, less like the wild west so beloved a coupla centuries ago.

Dominic entered and slithered to the counter, ordering a drink from a rather unfriendly looking fellow, although that would be how Dominic would describe most everyone outside of the Core Planets. Even then, even in the Core Planets, actually, that description was probably still pretty accurate. His drink, whatever it was -- he couldn't even remember what he ordered, he was too distracted by his disgust -- tasted like mule's piss mixed with some sour water. With a quiet shudder, Dominic scrunched his face and forced himself to swallow, left some money on the counter, and slid back to sit at a table by himself, facing the doorway and counter.

He wasn't there for very long before a gorgeous woman entered, completely sure of herself. Dominic could feel his eyes widen a little, and he pretended to adjust his hat so he could get a better look. She seemed familiar, though. He knew her from somewhere. Surely not one of his (few) former crews? Just wait, a bing ge, just wait and watch, he told himself, following his own instructions.

The barkeep instantly brightened when he saw her. Well, then, Dominic thought, disgruntled at the disparity in treatment between her and him. But why did she seem so familiar? The question chewed up at Dominic's innards, gnawing absentmindedly while he stared. He probably shouldn't stare, he knew that, but he did. Couldn't help it. Not only was he curious, but she was a captivating sort of person, in that "I'm totally fine ripping your throat out and feeding your privates to my favorite rats" kind of terrifying way. Finally, or really rather quickly, Korvaun the barkeep said her name. Citra. Citra, Citra, Citra, now where did he-- oh.

Oh shit.

Citra. Karliah. Montenegro. Lady Huntress, infamous, notorious, wanted pirate. Here Dominic was, a young, green fed who couldn't even nab one of the Alliance's most wanted because he needed to keep his cover. (As if he could, even if he tried, but he tried not to think too honest thoughts.) Now staring was completely inevitable, though he was sure that his eyes widened a little and his draw was hanging slightly ajar. Should he approach her? A lump formed itself in his throat, anxiety and fear and anticipation and excitement all rolling together to create a wonderful gooey, mucus-y-like throat-blocker inside. Dominic swigged some of his drink to try to free it up, but instantly regretted it and found himself choking on it and sputtering, though, in the end, he was able to swallow. Should he stand up? Trying so hard to be quiet, he shifted his chair back, but the dastardly traitor screeched, piercing Dominic's ears to slither down and jab his heart, yanking it back up to his throat. Half-risen, Dominic immediately sat down and lowered his head, though his eyes flicked back to look at the notorious pirate queen.

But he had to remind himself. Colin Grimshaw didn't know about Citra Montenegro. Colin Grimshaw was just a poor backwater boy looking for adventure who probably would have a similar reaction to any woman who looked like Lady Huntress. Just, y'know, without the context and knowledge that Dominic had.

WORDS: 1234 | NOTES: I hope this is okay ^^' | OUTFIT | MANDARIN: a bing ge - soldier boy

[CITRA MONTENEGRO]

With Korvaun otherwise preoccupied, Citra's focus turned from him to her surroundings. Having spent so many years on the run from Alliance law, it was her natural instinct to observe those around her and make sure that she wasn't being followed or watched. One could easily call it paranoia at this point, considering very few Alliance personnel had seen her face and actually lived, but there was still a possibility that they could connect the dots. And considering the fact that Korvaun had used her name (Something she'd told him not to do when in public, damn his forgetfulness), you could say that she was slightly justified in her habit. Glancing about the place however, put an end to this paranoia, at least temporarily. There wasn't anyone present that tipped her off to anything.

Aside from a few men at a table in the back, some stragglers playing pool, and the guy at the bar, there was a fresh-faced kid in what Citra figured to be his early twenties, sitting at a table alone. None of them fit the description of a Fed that the Alliance seemed so keen on keeping straight. The only one to come remotely close was the guy at the bar, and he was so completely drunk off his ass that Citra was fairly certain he wouldn't remember his mother's name if she were to ask him now, let alone who she was. The only other suspicious thing she could think of was the fact that the kid in the corner was staring at her as if he had just seen a ghost. So nothing out of the-

Screech.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor was more than enough for Citra to jump slightly and involuntarily reach towards her holstered gun. It took a lot of willpower to keep from drawing it right there. Dear God, Citra, you're in a bar. Chairs drag across the floor. Stop being so gorram jumpy for once, would you? She glanced over her shoulder back at the kid, to see him stop mid-rise, before sitting back down quietly. Apparently, somebody changed their mind about what they were planning on doing. What that might be, Citra was a tad curious about. After all, if it was something as simply as walking out or using the restroom, wouldn't he just do so instead of seemingly getting embarrassed by a loud noise?

And couldn't he do it without staring at her?

With a sign, Citra downed what was left in her glass and flagged down Korvaun for another one. When he brought it to her, she leaned in and spoke quietly. "What's the deal with the kid, Korvaun?"

The bartender shrugged. "No clue. Guy walked in her about five or so minutes before you did. Maybe he thinks you're cute. He's a guy in a gorram bar, after all." He grinned, before heading to the sink to wash a stack of glasses. Citra sighed. That was probably all it was, the nervous reaction of some small town kid who'd seen a girl he liked the look of, but would never have the courage to talk to. It was a common enough thing she'd seen, both as a reaction to her, as well as others nearby. She really, really needed to stop being so gorram paranoid. The Alliance didn't even know she was on planet, let alone anywhere in this area of space. As far as she was aware, the last reports had her placed out by Beaumonde, and that was a massive distance away.

There was another possibility of course. That the kid was either part of a rival crew, or better yet, the victim of one of her successful raids. Of course, if that were the case, well, he wouldn't act without backup, now would he? No danger there.

In any case...

"Hey Korvaun?" She called out to the barkeep, a small smile on her face. She had a sudden thought, and decided to go with it, just to see what happened. It was always fun messing with yokels, after all. "Can you come here for a sec?"

"What'cha need?" he asked, as he came back to her side of the bar.

"The kid over there, sitting by himself? Why don't you go ahead and send a glass of what you pour me his way? In fact, why don't you keep them coming for him? On me, of course."

Korvaun snickered, before nodding. "Sure, I suppose I can do that. Nice to see you being generous with your credits. Not often you do that for a fellow like him, yeah?" With that, he turned away to grab a glass, and headed across the bar to deliver the drink to the kid.

Now then. Let's begin, shall we? Citra thought with a slight grin.