A/N Apologies for the lack of accents on the Spanish sections. This story will eventually include characters from just about everything we can think of, and it will make fun of all of them, so suck it up.
Also, as this story was written by two people with separate fanfiction accounts, if you can guess who we really are, you get a cameo appearance somewhere in the story. If you can't, well, no surprise there.
Disclaimer: None of this is owned by us. But we're owned by a certain… someone, as you will see by the end of this story.
Plinio se reconstruyo todos esos eventos…
She would solve all of their problems. As she stared out over the land that was almost as beautiful as she was with her deep glittering blue eyes and tossed her long flowing golden hair over her shoulder with a melodic sigh she knew that she would fix all of their problems because not only was she beautiful with her deep glittering blue eyes and long flowing golden hair but she was also brave and wonderful and intelligent and strong and spirited and knew more than anyone else did because she had fallen into their world from ours and was determined to solve all of their problems even though they didn't understand her but she knew she could because not only was she beautiful…
With a loud "PLOMP," the very spaceship that she had been intending to fix landed right on top of her. And thus, she never actually managed to solve all of their problems.
"What was that?" asked Mal, the captain of the spaceship.
"I think we just landed on a run-on sentence," replied his pilot, Wash. With uncaring shrugs, the crew went about their business, because, after all, run on sentences are not really something you want to have in the world because they go on for so long and take a long time to read and most of the time have very little real important information and just go on tangents like talking about that preeety butterfly over there.
Suddenly, without warning (because things that happen suddenly rarely have warning) a dark-haired man with pointed ears appeared in front of them. Everyone promptly started swearing, except River, who kind of expected this.
"I bring a message from an extremely powerful… person," said the man, separating his fingers.
"Does it pay?" asked Mal.
"Pay?" repeated the man, raising one eyebrow.
"Do we get cash for it?" translated Mal's first mate, Zoe.
There was a pause, as the man considered this odd request. "You and everyone else in existence will meet a fiery and painful death if you don't."
"That doesn't seem very kind," complained Jayne, a large and painfully misnamed man.
"I agree," said Simon, the doctor. Everyone stared. "What?" he asked. "I do that, occasionally."
"The mission will be rewarding," the strange man informed them.
"In cash?" questioned Mal.
The man sighed. "I suppose my employer could… pay you, if that's really necessary."
"We're in," Mal said instantly.
"Mal!" protested the ship's prostitute, Inara. "We don't even know who he is."
"He's Spork," said River. "No. Wait… he's Spock."
"Correct," replied Spork, or Spock, if you prefer. "My name is Spock, and I have important information for you regarding the mission you are about to embark on."
"Would this information involve how much we're going to get paid for it?" asked Mal.
"No," said Spock. He paused for a moment, possibly for dramatic effect, but no one was very sure. "My employer says that you get to choose how much you are paid."
"Seriously?" said Jayne.
"Oh, it's gonna be fatal, isn't it?" whined Wash.
"Possibly," replied Spock. "However, you will find that not taking this mission will result in the world exploding and your eventual doom."
"That would be bad," commented Kaylee, the mechanic.
"Indeed," Spock agreed.
Jayne, meanwhile, was getting rather impatient. "Get to the gorram point already!" he snapped.
"We have to assemble an army," River said. "To take down "the Alliance." Or something like that."
"Why the sarcastic quotation marks?" asked the Shepherd Book, who had been very quite up until now.
"You'll see," replied River cheerfully.
"So where, exactly, do we get this army of yours, Mr. Spork?" asked Mal.
"My name is Spock."
"Sorry."
"I'm not going to tell you until you get it right."
"What?"
"I won't."
"Doesn't that seem a little… immature?" asked Inara.
"I'm not telling you anything."
A voice which apparently appeared out of nowhere… well, not appeared, because voices don't actually do that, but you know what I mean… it snapped, "You better damn well tell them you pointy-eared moron!"
Spock pouted. "Yes, ma'am," he said. He turned to the rest of the group. "You have to ask Badger," he explained in a slightly sulky voice. "He'll point you to certain people, who will point you to other people, and so on and so forth. Keep going until… well, until somebody tells you to stop assembling an army. Then you get to go kill "the Alliance"."
"Again with the sarcastic quotations," grumbled Book, but Spock was already gone.
"Was anyone else slightly… disturbed by that voice?" asked Wash, but he was ignored.
The crew arrived at Badger's place only a few days later. There were no appearances by voices or random guys with pointy ears, so nothing needs to be said about those days.
When they went to speak to Badger, he was surprisingly helpful.
"There's a bloke in the bar you should talk to," he suggested. "Name's Rikki. You'll recognize him right off, all hairy and animated-like. He'll be a good guy to have on your side."
"Do we have to pay him?" asked the ever-practical Zoe.
"He takes his in whiskey," replied Badger.
With these less-than-mysterious parting words, the crew went to the bar. They recognized Rikki straight off.
Rikki was a two-dimensional dog with a two-dimensional bazooka drinking three-dimensional whiskey. Some of you might recognize him from "Silverfang." Probably not.
Plinio piensa: Creo que esta cuenta va a estar muy grande!
