River grabbed her "captor's" wrist and squeezed hard. The punks had let the smallest of the group watch her, which meant they were well practiced at the time honored art of taking what wasn't theirs. One could also take it to mean they'd never learned to pick their targets with a little more wisdom.

When the punk lost his grip on the knife, River freed him of its burden and threw it into the dumpster with a loud CLANG! Victor watched, mesmerized, as the girl kept her grip on her opponent's wrist and struck. With a sense of balance that made him envious, she kicked him once in the stomach, causing him to stumble back. Maintaining her grip on him kept him from getting away. Since she had him anyway, she proceeded to kick him twice more, once in the armpit, once in a rib. The blow to the underarm almost dislocated his shoulder and the cracked ribs made it hard to breath. The "hard to breath" really takes the fight out of some folk. The punk was tough though, and didn't go down right away, so River helped him out, kicking the side of his knee, spraining it. Then he decided to give up on the idea of standing and fighting. Especially the standing part.

The whole takedown took about three seconds. Victor watched over his aggressors' shoulders, grinning wider than ever. He was completely captivated, and not just because most of River's kicks afforded him the chance to look up River's too-short skirt.

The other three punks finally turned around to see what all the commotion was. They'd left their friend to deal with the little girl and their plan was to take Victor for all he was worth. A quick look behind them revealed the girl standing and their friend laying on the ground, writhing in pain.

Victor pretended he'd known this was going to happen. "Told you so," he said, smugly. "Don't make her angry. You wouldn't like her when-"

The criminals, young and pathetic as they were, didn't let Victor finish his sentence, which both Victor and River found vaguely rude. Snapping out of their stunned silence, they attacked. Tackle Box Face Man tried to stab Victor while Smally Biggs and Tweedle Dumbass went after River. Victor felt his spirits rise. He'd thought today was going to be dull. Backing toward the mouth of the alley to give River some room, he held his right hand (he was right handed) behind his back and parried his opponents ineffectual attacks. Had he seen himself, he'd have thought he looked like an old sensei giving the young punk a lesson. He didn't realize it at the time, but he started counting "One. Two. Three", in a dead language called Japanese, each number punctuating a useless attack by his opponent. On "Four!" he'd attack with a slap to the face, or a chop to the arm. His attacks served no purpose beyond showing his opponent how easily he could destroy him if he wanted. The irony was, as a child, he'd always hated it when his brother or teachers had done that to him. He kept his opponent at bay paying as little attention as he dared so he could watch River's fight.

River was poetry in motion. Using exaggerated, flowery motions, she appeared to dance around her opponents, keeping them clumsily tripping over each other like extras in a cheap martial arts play. She kept Tweedle Dee Dee Dee between herself and Mr. Smally, wearing him down with quick, light blows to the torso. He was actually a patron of Mixed Martials, the most popular fighting style in the Verse and the basis for all military and law enforcement unarmed combat. His lack of practical experience and physical fitness proved to be more than his weekly lessons could account for. When River finally got an opening, she kicked him full in the chest, sending him backwards into a narrow wall. Between his bruises, the kick, and the impact on the wall, he went down gasping. In the hospital, a doctor later told Tweedle Dee Dee Dee that, had River kicked him any harder, she probably would have killed him.

When River's first opponent went down, Victor kicked his opponent's legs out from under him, just to give himself a chance to watch what happened next. He couldn't wait to see what River would do with this hulking meat mountain that she couldn't hope to over power. As his practice dummy climbed to his feet, Victor saw something that made him laugh.

Squared off against a small planet, River hesitated a moment. All her training programs had been designed for human sized/shaped opponents. When Mr. Smally saw her hesitate, he stomped forward, probably intent on belly flopping her to death like a video game character. River acted. Quickly. Decisively. With an economy of motion mere mortals can only hope to achieve!

She kicked the giant between the legs.

As he went down, River jumped and spun, giving her whole body's force to a kick to her victim's face, knocking him over backward.

Not bad, Victor thought, turning his attention back to that thing he'd been doing. Metal Mouth/Eyebrows/Ears/Nose was back on his feet and trying to kill him. Jerk.

This time when Ugly tried to stab him, Victor grabbed his fore arm with both hands and spun, ripping the knife away by force. Seeing what River could do, he decided against the quick brutal death and went for something fancy.

The twist to get the knife away left him with his back to his opponent. He spun around, raising an elbow, taking the punk in the face. Being already off balance, the ringleader went down again. Victor raised his knee up to his shoulder height and in one motion, brought his boot down on a collision course with the punk's neck to snap it against the ground. He'd never practiced this move, but was feeling inspired. Pretty girls tend to bring out the best in a man, when they weren't driving him crazy. His feet stomped the pavement beside his target's head and it took his brain a moment to catch up with why he hadn't stomped the life out of his vermin.

"STOP!" River had screamed, causing him to redirect his kick, mid course.

"Why?" he demanded, not taking his eyes off of Face O' Holes. The boy was twitching in fear, eyes wide and terrified. Not unlike River several hours ago. Victor found it a little pathetic. If you're going to give someone a reason to kill you, at least have the decency to die like a man and not a rabbit.

"The Captain says killing when you don't have to is bad for business," River said, running over to where Victor was standing.

Victor took a step back from his opponent, drawing his shotgun. Pointing it at his quarry's head he stated, "We don't have any business with these." He held off on shooting though. He'd been in this situation once before. The last time he'd pulled the trigger. It had gotten him suspended for a week. He was new to Serenity and didn't want to get in trouble.

"I don't want to kill them," River said.

"Then don't," Victor said, cocking both hammers back with his left hand. Couldn't she see how scared this punk was? Victor was tweaked, but torture wasn't his cup of tea. Why wouldn't she just let him kill and be done with it?

River could see she wasn't getting her point across and panicked. She grabbed Victor by the arm. "I'm a person, not a monster!" She was leaning against Victor now, holding his arm, and screaming in his face. Victor told himself his next decision was in no way related to her holding his non-shooting arm and the subsequent River-breast-to-arm-contact. His decision to show mercy definitely wasn't out of attraction to the killing machine in a girl's body.

Oh. She's one of those people, Victor thought. He almost pulled the trigger anyway, out of principle, but River had earned her credits. Besides... she technically had seniority over him. Maybe. Whatever.

Victor turned to Metalface Mcpisspants and spoke. "If I ever see you or your crew again, I'll kill you, your friends, your family, and eat any pets you have. Doh ma?"

Something in Victor's dead pan delivery and hungry wolf's stare must have resonated with the boy on the ground. "Doh ma!" he said quickly, sprinting off. He made it out of the alley before he even made it to the standing position. Smally Biggs drug his two companions out by the collars of their coveralls, not looking at Victor or River. Once they were out of sight, Victor reholstered and turned to River.

"You're a person, not a monster?" he asked, looking her in the eye, unblinking.

River couldn't read his thoughts for the moment. They were all over the stars. "Yes," she said, hoping it was true.

"That makes one of us." Walking to the mouth of the alley, he added, "Come on."

"Where are we going?" River asked.

"Somewhere fun."

As they left the alley behind, a thought occurred to River. "Why do you keep doing that?" she asked Victor.

"Being confused by your vague, open ended questions?" Victor asked, walking by her side. "No idea. I hope to stop any minute now."

River almost laughed at her self. She kept forgetting normal people couldn't read thoughts. Her lapses in social etiquette were almost the same as speaking louder and slower after finding out the person you're talking to doesn't speak the same language. "What I should have said was: 'Why do you keep trying to pass me off as your wife or girlfriend?'"

"Does it bother you?" Victor asked.

No. "Yes."

"My bad," Victor said. "It's actually pretty standard. A man and a woman, the sameish age, walking around... You need some kind of story to tell people. Pretending we're together provides a harmless cover, while making us both look spoken for. That way, you don't have to constantly reject a stream of young men that wanna' touch your boobs." Victor was actually several years older than River, but he knew he looked younger. It usually caused him problems, but sometimes came in handy when he was trying to look non-threatening.

Yes, sometimes he saw the value in not scaring people half to death before stab murdering them.

River wondered where these young men were. She'd never seen them. "Well stop it," she said to Victor. She had another thought. "What if I liked women?"

Victor shrugged, looking around. Across the street, he spotted what looked like an all-in-one bar/casino/club. The sign on the outside of the building read THE BUTTERFLY in English and Chinese, with a picture of a butterfly to really drive the point home. "You'd make a fortune selling the pictures?" he speculated, crossing the street.

River kept pace with him. There were no speeders or cars on the road, except for a taxi parked in front of the bar. "What?" she asked, not understanding what Victor was implying.

"Okay then," Victor said, stopping River outside. "You want to get your spy game on?"

River didn't know what he was talking about. "Yes...?" she said, slowly.

"If anyone asks, you work for the Heart of Gold. You're on your day off and I'm your bodyguard." Victor held the door open for River. He was interested to see how she would handle it. "Ladies first."

River smiled. This might actually be fun. With a curtsy for her escort, she led the way into the club.

Inside, the club was divided into three areas. Against the far wall was a bar. To the left of the entrance was the casino area, sporting rows of slot machines, tables and card games. Due to the lack of patrons at this hour, the only real action was a single black jack game and a single game of Texas Hold 'Em. Victor had no idea who Texas was, but he presumed the man had played a mean game of cards. Victor never went to casinos, but it felt good to see people playing real card games and not that fruit stuff everyone out here played.

To the right of the entrance was a secondary room that housed the "dance floor" and a stage. There was a billboard outside the entrance advertising live bands that would play at night. At the moment the room was expelling loud, irritating music.

"I hate dubstep," Victor muttered. He assumed the club's owner was trying too hard to make a place for Core Worlders to feel at home. Someone should explain to him that just because the music came from the core, doesn't mean one must listen to it.

"Why?" River asked.

Instead of answering, Victor asked his own question. "What do you want to do? Gamble? Drink?"

River looked around. "I don't know."

Victor sighed. "Figures." He passed River a square, gold coin. "Take this to that counter over there and they'll change it for chips. Then you can try your hand at cards. Ima' go get a drink."

River looked at the coin in her hand. "If I win, they'll give me money, right?"

Victor congratulated himself on not insulting River's complete lack of clue. "Yeah," he said, encouragingly. His smile and tone of voice were barely sarcastic at all.

"Why would they do that? Doesn't the club have to make money?" River asked, looking up at Victor.

Victor rubbed his face with his hand. His headache was starting to come back. "Just keep playing. Eventually they'll get all your money."

"So I'm trying to lose?"

Victor stomped off to the bar. He really needed a drink. "I'm sure you'll figure it out," he called back over his shoulder.

The bar had a monitor at regular intervals, so that patrons could watch different Core World programs. One would have sports, another: news, another: game shows. Victor positioned himself in front of the news broadcast and waited for the bartender to take his order.

The bartender, a hot, blond woman with stubble where most women would keep their hair, walked over. her name tag read Seana. "What'll it be?"

"Ale, please," Victor said. "In the bottle. Whichever is the most popular." It had been too long since he'd had a single, prepackaged beer. "You guys get the Core Net out here?" he asked, pointing at the television.

"Everything is about two weeks old," Seana explained. "It's all prerecorded for your entertainment."

"Well color me entertained." Seana couldn't tell if Victor was joking or not, but she smiled and laughed all the same. As he watched the old news broadcast, Victor wondered idly if that meant she liked him or if she was just being polite. He hadn't said or done anything to get her to like him (he'd just made a lazy, bad joke), but sometimes women were weird. Especially the ones who randomly decided they were attracted to men who wore firemen's coats and swords.

Victor dropped his line of reasoning on the finer points of the female psychology as he watched the monitor. It would appear someone had planted bombs in a random Blue Sun department store on Beleraphon. The news kept playing different angles of the explosion and people's reactions to what had happened. Victor watched closely, but the program had no real information about who had done it or why. They just spouted mindless speculation from a dozen different sources while replaying the same footage over and over. Victor wondered why, in a world where everything was on video, there wasn't a single piece of footage actually showing someone planting the explosives. Either whoever had done it was amazing at avoiding vid capture, or the powers that be were keeping that information close for security reasons.

"Pretty bad, huh?" Seana asked.

"Yeah," Victor said in agreement. They hadn't even taken the building out. Whoever had planted the explosives had gone with fire bombs, probably ethanol based. It caused lots of fire based damage, to be sure. It was probably going to cost Blue Sun as much in repairs as the building had cost to make. Also, Blue Sun was so big, the only insurance they could get was from the AGBS (Allied Governments Banking System), so the cost was eventually going to go back to the tax payers in one form or another. Tax payers don't generally agree with paying lots of money for a private companies repair bill, so that was going to snowball nicely. "Brilliant."

Seana, who'd been on the fence about whether Victor was good looking enough to ignore his lack of fashion sense, suddenly had to busy herself on the other side of the bar. Now if Victor wanted another drink, he'd have to ask her coworker, a burly man with arms the size of Victor's legs. His name tag read "Frank".

"Sup," Victor asked, nodding at Frank, who nodded back. His Core slang was safer here, where people got used to that kind of thing.

Victor polished off his beer and was considering another when he heard clapping from behind him. He froze. Then he said to himself, "I'm going to turn around and River is not going to be the center of attention. The cheering I heard was from something else."

Victor turned around. He was wrong. He was all the way wrong. Every word he'd said was so opposite the truth it made him a little sad inside.

"Rassah frassam!" Victor grunted, clenching the fist of his non-drinking hand. Oh, well. No harm, no foul I guess, Victor thought, walking over to the Hold 'Em table. River was sitting on a stack of chips, smiling. Victor realized he'd never seen her smile before. Really pretty, he thought. River looked up from what she was doing to spare another smile for him, before placing her next bet. At that moment, Victor realized he'd never asked if the "psychic" part of her training had worked.

Victor was impressed by how quickly River had gained the upper hand. She had admirers on either side of her, clapping every time she won another hand, which was every time. Her opponents looked like they were ready to give up. What Victor did next, he didn't want to do.

He walked over to River and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Lose half of your money and as quickly as you can and withdraw gracefully, your drawing too much attention." River's eyes fell slightly and Victor felt his mouth start to talk against his will. "Keep smiling. You have a beautiful smile." He stepped off from where River was playing, keeping up his bodyguard image. He shouldn't have said that. Why did he say that? He felt his face flush, whether from irritation at himself or something else, he couldn't say.

Victor went to wait over by the cash exchange counter. He quickly chugged the rest of his beer and dropped it into the nearest trash bin. Hands empty, he went to standing up as straight as he could, using his best serious face. As River finally made her way clear of the table, it occurred to him he probably shouldn't have left her alone in the first place. This chick was starting to be a real pain in his ass.

"Okay," River said, bouncing up to him she was positively beaming. Victor wondered just how much she'd won. "Now what?"

Cash in your chips. And don't ask for your bodyguard's permission, Victor thought.

Surprisingly (maybe not so much), River said, "Okay," before prancing over to the exchange counter.

"Unreal," Victor muttered, this time out loud.

Outside, the two started walking back to the parking garage. It was dark outside, now. They'd been out for most of the day. Victor took a single coin back from River, before handing her fistful of gold back.

"Wait, I owe you more for the dress," she said, trying to get him to take more of her money.

"That's yours, I don't want it," Victor said. It had always been his policy to pay cheesy, over-the-top compliments to girls and he hated himself for hesitating this time. "Let's just say I paid for the privilege of seeing you in a shorty skirt."

They fell into silence for a moment, but River finally spoke. "Are you upset?"

Victor was surprised. "I thought you could read my thoughts?"

"I can read everyone's thoughts. Yours just keep bouncing around," River said. "One second, your upset, the next amused, the next thinking about something else entirely. The only time you were focused was when you were fighting."

"That's normal," Victor said, frowning. Was that normal?

"Okay," River said. She'd never really stopped to think about it before.

The speeder was right where they'd left it. Right when they were about to get to the car, a wheeled, two person go-cart came... not exactly screaming around the corner, heading straight for River, Victor and the speeder.

Victor saw Tiny squished into the driver's seat, threatening to spill over and shove Piercing Man, the Unheroic out onto the black top. He also saw the weapons, which were of a more immediate concern than the odd couple.

"Move," Victor said, as the put-put mobile bore down on them. When River didn't move fast enough for him, he tackled her to the ground, landing behind the nearest vehicle, covering her with his body. If they got out of this, he was going to insist most ardently that River wear armor next time they left the ship. Better yet, he'd just stop leaving the ship with this trouble magnet.

The punks didn't take the risk of getting out and letting their targets get a hand on them. They were armed with automatic weapons and simply shot the Heart of Gold speeder full of holes. They also shot the two neighboring vehicles full of holes as well, for no apparent reason. Then, the punks sped away at top speed, an earth shattering 35mph.

"That was weird," River said, in her dreamy, surprised voice as Victor scrambled off of her to inspect the vehicle. She sat up and looked around.

Victor stood in front of the vehicle, staring at it. Transmission fluid, oil, and what might have been battery acid was leaking out of it like blood from a dying man. Victor was perfectly still, his face neutral, but River could feel his anger building. Slowly at first, then rushing in a torrent. River placed her hands to her ears, trying to block out a sound that wasn't there. When that didn't work, she slid herself backwards to increase the distance between herself and Victor, scratching her bare legs.

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault!

Victor's whole body seemed to be vibrating now, as his face twisted into an animalistic rage. His fists clenched shut uncontrollably. He knew better. He'd always known better. This was his own stupid fault for listening to the girl. There was a loud, booming noise as he slammed both of his fists down on the hood of what used to be a vehicle. River jumped at the sound, unable to cope with the amount of emotion she was feeling from Victor's head. She felt like her skin was going to crawl off of her body. It felt like she was going to explode from the inside out. There was a loud screeching in her head that sounded, at the same time, like a rushing waterfall except it was the loudest thing she'd ever heard.

Victor was standing over her now. River hadn't even seen him move. Her eyes had probably been closed. River recoiled back, feeling his rage like a wave of heat, washing off of him. Her back was pressed up against another vehicle of some kind, but she kept pressing back, trying to increase the distance.

Victor got himself under what could tenuously be called control. Glaring at River, he spoke in a low growl, choosing his words carefully. It wouldn't do to start screaming and swearing. "That... Is why I kill."

River's hands reached for her throat, to make sure her head was still attached. She'd felt Victor's sword go slicing through it, but realized in the back of her mind that she was losing track of what was real and what was happening in Victor's head. Her vision going dark around the edges, she had time to say one word before blacking out. "Monster."

Victor had a lifetime of experience dealing with stressful situations. He also had the benefit of his brain having only been mildly tampered with once before, at his own discretion. Strangely, his own anger had less of an impact on himself than it did on River.

"Well...fuck," he said, standing over the unconscious girl. He kept forgetting she wasn't quite all right upstairs. In his defense, River was absent any "Don't become suddenly angry at me or I will pass out" warning signs.

River was still breathing evenly, which was a good sign, he supposed. It was too late to hire someone to transport them back to the Heart of Gold. There's no way a mechanic shop would be open after dark, either. Victor turned back to the speeder. Mechanic shop... what a joke. That thing was dead.

Victor hoisted River up. He considered carrying her cradle style. Strong as he was, his arms would get tired eventually, and he didn't know how far a walk it was to the nearest hotel. He opted instead to carry her like a child, chest-to-chest, with her arms over his shoulders. Placing one hand on either of her hips, he was able to carry her as far as he cared to walk. Heading out of the garage, he realized her skirt was going to ride up high enough to be embarrassing, had she been awake. Telling himself he didn't care and it served her right, he pulled her skirt down anyway. There was no point making things worse. He did that enough already.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

I didn't realize how long this was going to take, but I didn't want to leave anything out and have to smash it in later.

Also, the American West Coast surfer slang is short hand for a delinquent on the Core Worlds. I did that on purpose, but I couldn't tell if it was obvious enough. Speaking of obvious, I really hope you fine people enjoyed the irony of the coked up psycho giving lessons on how to be "normal". That was my favorite part.

All feedback is appreciated, you guys are helping me out a lot.