Forced Alliance
Rated: PG
Category: Gen, Mal/Simon/Book Friendship.
Spoilers: BDM.
Summary: The enemy of my enemy is my…enemy?
Note: Written for ff_friday's prompt of 'pirates versus ninjas'.
Malcolm Reynolds laughed loudly.
"Take that, you sorry son of a whore!"
Simon glared at Mal and even cursed under his breath.
"This is stupid! It's not like I even wanted to play your ancient, infantile game, anyway!"
"Don't see you puttin it down. And I thought you liked history."
"Shut up."
"What have I told you about givin orders on my boat?"
Mal turned to Simon as his anger got the best of him, and it was a fatal error.
Simon immediately grinned and pushed several buttons on the small device in his hand in rapid succession.
Mal's head whipped back toward the cortex in front of him, and he swore.
"Gorram it, Simon! That wasn't fair! Goadin me like that, then killin my man!"
"All's fair in love and war, Captain."
"Well, this certainly ain't love, but if it's war you're wantin, you got it."
Mal set his jaw and hit a few buttons on his own device. Simon gripped his little box more firmly. Both men stared hard at the cortex display in the galley.
Mal bit his lip.
Simon's tongue stuck out from one corner of his mouth.
Neither man spoke, but their eyes rapidly flitted back and forth and their bodies occasionally leaned left, then right, or jumped a little.
On the screen, two virtual representations of men ran this way and that while hunting one another. The figures were armed with huge weapons and moved carefully from cover to cover in a battle setting. Both Simon and Mal dispensed with other enemies as they maneuvered their characters on the screen, but there was no question that this was a singular quest, and true victory could be gained only by eliminating their opponent personally.
After several moments of this graphical hide and seek, Mal grinned.
"Oh, I have you now."
"That's what you think," murmured Simon.
"You're tryin to get the high ground, but I'm gonna beat you to it."
"Not if I can help it."
"Oh, yeah? Take that!"
An explosion flared near Simon's character, and Mal cackled again. Simon's man stumbled, but regained his balance quickly. Suddenly, Mal's character was behind him, and Simon jumped out of his seat.
"AH! Move, you stupid, little…" Simon mashed his controller repeatedly and hopped around in an effort to get his player to move faster. It seemed to work. The virtual Simon started to turn to fight the virtual Mal when Mal's man stopped moving.
"What the…?" said Mal.
Simon's eyes grew wide, too, and he sat back down.
Simon flicked his eyes to Mal and found Mal looking back at him. Mal nodded ever so slightly and both men riveted their attention back on the cortex.
Simon's man turned back away from Mal's, then moved backwards a bit to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Both characters then began pumping ammunition into a huge beast directly in their path, but they might as well have been throwing marshmallows at it. Their blows glanced off its scales like rain off a duck's back. The beast almost seemed to be enjoying the onslaught.
In only a few moments, despite the best efforts of both Simon and Mal, their game counterparts lay dead on the screen. An immense green dragon pranced proudly back and forth over their prone forms for a moment, then disappeared entirely.
Mal looked to Simon and the young man stared back.
"What the hell just happened?" asked Mal.
Simon shrugged.
"Well, one thing's certain. We just got our asses handed to us."
Simon nodded. He seemed incapable of speech.
Eventually, Mal shrugged. "Reckon it's ok after all. Gives me a chance to play the other side. I wanna see what this whole ninja thing you keep talking about is. You wanna take pirate?"
Simon never got a chance to answer. At that moment, Shepherd Book wandered by. His voice floated back to Simon and Mal as he passed them. It was as calm as usual, but Mal swore it held a hint of teasing, and once his brain deciphered the preacher's words, Mal knew he was being played.
"You know, gentleman, I heard there's another team you can unlock in that game once you reach the upper levels, and then you can play with creatures other than men. Some are pretty formidable, I'm told. You might try it when you get there."
Mal couldn't resist taking the bait, even though he knew he shouldn't.
"Oh, yeah?" he sneered. "What's this mythical, magical level called?"
Book turned back toward Mal and Simon, raised one eyebrow a bit, and shot his captain a wicked grin.
"Jedi."
There was a pause of exactly three seconds in which the defeated players simply stared at the Shepherd. Then Book's voice broke the silence.
"Or so I've been told," he said innocently, as he turned away and left.
Mal and Simon were silent for a few minutes more, but Simon finally voiced the only sentiment the pair felt.
"You realize, of course, we have to take him out."
Mal nodded.
"Absolutely."
Thus began the most infamous and unlikely of alliances to ever grace Serenity. Mal and Simon never did switch sides, and they never managed to defeat Book, either, but the tales of the NinjaPirates and their Jedi foes are legend to this day on the ship.
And sometimes, in the dead of night, Mal swears he hears the ethereal voice of Book in his bunk.
It's never a proverb or a lecture that comes to mind, but another verbal jab.
Ninjas? Pirates? A Jedi cares not about these.
On those nights, Mal rolls over and tries to sleep. Sometimes he succeeds, and sometimes he doesn't, but he always grins either way as he sends his answer to the black.
You just wait, Shepherd. I got my doubts we'll end up in the same place when I'm dead, but if there's any justice in this 'verse, I WILL get a rematch before we go our own ways.
You just wait.