The woman sitting in the bar wasn't paying attention to any of the ruckus around her. In fact, she wasn't even paying attention to the drink she'd bought an hour ago – it was still sitting on the edge of the table, untouched.
She sighed quietly and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sound of raucous laughter and the scent of unwashed workers crowding around the blackjack table at the other end of the room. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to maintain a hopeful attitude lately, what with the locales she'd been forced to visit just to find a decent crew. More often than not, the interview ended before it even began. The men would get one look at her, turn heel and walk right back out the door – didn't matter what parts of the 'verse the woman visited, it was always the same. None of them wanted to serve under a female captain, and that was a fact.
"Emma, honey, bein' captain ain't about yellin' louder or hittin' harder than everyone else on a ship. It's about who can take a yellin' or a beatin' more than anyone else you know, and get right back up to prove it." It was something she'd been told by her mother a long while ago, and only recently begun to understand.
Well, Emma thought, if that's what makes a captain, I'd be a brigadier general by now. Giving in to the restlessness and the nerves, she lifted the glass to her lips and quickly poured the entire drink down her throat, taking pleasure in the burning sensation before a warm glow settled in her stomach. As the feeling subsided, she went back to surveying the room, looking for any sign of her interviewee as she'd been doing every ten minutes since she'd arrived.
Just like every other proprietor of every other bar on the planet of El K'has, the current owner of this well-worn establishment (widely known as "The Clamor") was a conniving, backstabbing snake of a man. In this case, the snake went by the name of Barra Kru, but to most of the bar patrons, he was known as "The Barracuda". It wasn't without reason, either – stories had floated all throughout the planetary commlinks ever since he'd begun operating The Clamor, with the implication that he'd torn the previous owner's throat out…with his teeth. Following the initial accusations, the Federation had sent a black ops squad to meet Barra after he returned home one night, seemingly drunk and in no control of his faculties.
Needless to say, there wasn't much left of the squad by the time local law enforcement arrived the following morning. A few of the officers that arrived at the scene got a glimpse of the remains and promptly marched away in the opposite direction, deathly pale, eyes wide with fear. After that, there weren't any Feds visiting The Clamor, making it a good place to find Browncoats, mercenaries, and bounty hunters from all over the system.
It was because of this notoriety that Emma had chosen to visit the bar that night. If she hadn't needed a crew so badly, she wouldn't have even considered the idea of spending time at The Clamor. But she needed an extra pair of hands to get her ship back in the black, there was no way around that.
As if sensing her frustration and anxiety, The Barracuda made his way toward her, wiping his hands off with a towel cloth as he edged around from behind the bar and flashed his signature smile – all of his teeth had been filed to points, making him look more like a shark than anything else. He wasn't an exceptionally large person, but his dead black eyes and unnerving grin were enough to put anyone on edge, whether they knew him or not. "Well, well, what 'ave we 'ere? Been stood up, love?"
Emma glanced at the patron briefly and flashed him an unapologetic smile before returning her attention to the rest of the room. "Kuài zǒu kāi, Barra. I've got my line in for a bigger fish." In spite his reputation, it was also known that Barra had a fondness for independent ship captains just trying to make ends meet. It hadn't been too long ago that he himself had been at the head of a ragtag gang of smugglers, so he held a certain respect for those continuing the legacy. This was the only reason why Emma felt it necessary to backtalk to the most dangerous man in the bar, despite the implied camaraderie.
Barra gave her a hurt look, pulling out the seat opposite to her and falling into it with a heaving sigh. "Oh dear heart, you wound me! Am I not the sole object of your affections?" His face suddenly broke into a sly grin as he leaned back in the chair, two legs off the floor. "…or is it th' lad that's been stewin' in the corner booth for the last three days? Hm?" Barra shook his head in false disappointment, looking into Emma's eyes, still grinning. "Tsk tsk. Looks like someone's losin' 'er touch."
Emma fought the urge to reach across the table and smack the amused look off of Barra's face – but more importantly, she was fighting the urge to turn around in her seat and frantically search for the person he'd mentioned. Fortunately, she was able to force herself to remain where she was, glaring at the bottom of her shot glass as she spoke to the man across the table through gritted teeth.
"Barra."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"How long have you known he was there?"
"I told you, it's been a few days now."
"And you didn't think it necessary to tell me?"
He shrugged semi-apologetically. "I just put two and two together, y'know. S'been a bit busy round here, in case you 'aven't noticed."
Emma lifted her head to glare directly at The Barracuda – but his focus had been diverted to the stranger in the corner. "Listen, péngyǒu, I've been searching the whole gorram system for a respectable crew. This guy is my ticket into the Ring, and I need him yesterday. Dohn-ma?"
Barra looked back at her raised his hands defensively, as if to ward off the hostility being directed towards him. "Look, miss, if you want to talk to the fella, he's comin' hisself. No need to get tetchy." He nodded his head, seeming satisfied as he got up, wiped his hands off on his waistcloth, and made his way back to the bar. "And don't make a mess! I've got enough to deal with at the moment as is, a'right?" he called out over his shoulder.
Emma shot up out of her chair, fists clenched at her sides as she watched The Barracuda swim away, whistling a Federation marching song. All of a sudden, she felt a gentle hand grasp her shoulder from behind, accompanied by an even gentler voice. "Easy, bao bei. The man's more snake than fish, if you ask me."
She started at the pet name and whirled around to face the stranger – but when she did, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
The man wasn't so much of a man as…machine.
The first thing Emma noticed about him was his eye. One of them – the right one – was completely black. It gave the illusion of an empty eye socket at a certain angle, but there seemed to be a pulsing blue glow emanating from within, almost like a heartbeat. Without a pupil, it was impossible to tell where the man was looking – or if he was looking at all.
As he reached up to lower the hood of his cloak, a flash of metal and glass caught Emma's eye – his right arm wasn't even the genuine article, either. It looked to be a cybernetically augmented prosthetic, the kind that was usually attached to high-ranking Federation officials that had lost their limbs in the Unification War.
In an instant, Emma had her revolver unsheathed, cocked the hammer, and pressed the muzzle against the mystery man's sternum, his hand still holding the edge of his hood.
To his credit, he didn't even blink, even as she gave him a chilling stare.
"So tell me, Fed. Are you just plain stupid, or do you like dancing with death?" she hissed, pressing the gun against his chest. And to her complete surprise…he smiled.
"Are we dancing?" he replied as he released his grip on the hood of the cloak and grabbed the barrel of the gun with his left hand – flesh and blood, as far as Emma could tell.
She looked down at the gun, then back up at the stranger. Without breaking eye contact, she tugged the gun out of his grasp and slid it back into its holster. "If we are, you'll know. Believe you me." As she took a step back to size up the man in front of her, Emma noticed how quiet the bar had become. She glanced around and realized all eyes were on them – looking intently, mostly out of curiosity. Even the blackjack players across the room had ceased their horseplay for a moment to watch the exchange taking place.
Taking the man by the arm, Emma pulled him along as she began to make her way out of the bar, looking straight ahead without sparing a glance for any of the patrons that had stopped to stare.
When they finally exited The Clamor, the double doors banging shut behind them, the bar suddenly came alive again, even louder and noisier than before. Emma suddenly stopped and turned to face the man she'd been dragging along, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Alright, péngyǒu. If you and I are gonna be livin' on the same ship, I'm gonna need a name to call you by. Don't much care if it's yours or it ain't."
The man gave her a small smile and offered his left hand for a handshake. "Lucius. And might I say, what a pleasure it is to meet you…" He paused as her hand took his.
"…Captain Washburne."