If Badger could provide a summation for how he viewed his life, it would be as follows: He hated it, but loved the way he lived it. Seemed a fair enough distinction to him. Dirty work was the essence of who he was. He couldn't not love it. However, choosing such a lifestyle also meant that there were certain ramifications that inevitably plagued him. Those were not so pleasant to have around. It meant that he had to tread carefully, no matter where he went. That's not to say that he didn't fancy the folk at Eavesdown. They were pleasant enough, so long as you never gave a reason for any of them to stab you in the back. The bureaucrats were the only ones who would have the slightest potential or inclination to do so; else wise, he was the one in control of everyone beneath his rank. There were very few beneath him that would be willing to attempt to do away with him in any case. Malcolm Reynolds, specifically. But his visits were so few and far between, that Badger was always able to reenforce enough henchmen and paperwork against Reynolds to avoid that possibility.
Reynolds was the least of his concerns, though. Badger had, as they say, bigger fish to fry. The Alliance had been riding up on his pi gu ever since a few blokes from his clientele complained about his responsibility in heading petty theft and organized crime.

The Alliance's advances on him were merely a pretense, of course; no one but the Alliance knew that Badger was working for BlueSun Co. as their undercover mole; the insider who squealed about other illegal goings-on. It was the bargain he made with them to reduce his jail-time sentence when he was put on trial so many years ago back in the Dyton colony. He agreed to secretly provide intel on illegal activity, and in return, he got ignored by the lawmen for the dabbles of his own.

His privileges didn't stop the fact that the Alliance was still hella-distracting; and a nuisance that he could do without. His notoriety had been raised rather substantially in his line of work, since all the other black market princes got themselves pinched by the law, and he was still standing. Badger's in with the Alliance was the only thing saving him from being thrown out like yesterday's news. Of course, given all the problems the Alliance had been having with fugitives lately, it'd be just his luck if his free pass wouldn't last much longer. Especially if they found out about Badger's true loyalties and motivations outside both the Alliance and his black-market practices. He was a man of his own agenda. Always had been.

As the pretty lass on Mal's boat had expressed so intuitively, he was indeed 'a sad little king on a sad little hill'. But, it was better to be king of something than nothing, was his philosophy. Besides, his kingdom may be small. But not as small as she probably originally surmised...not even his lowlife mates in Dyton knew how expansive his underground network was. The thought of that produced a reflective smile to flicker across Badger's face.

"Badger. There's a code 12 down in the lower level." The voice of Badger's lead henchman withdrew him from his reverie. He glanced up at the mass of muscle that stood before his desk.

"Undastood, Marcus." Badger gave a curt nod. He rose from his desk and headed towards the brown, threadbare tapestry that he had suspended on the far wall of his office. The curtain was what hid the entrance to his underground slave-trade facility.

Badger gestured for the dark, burly man to accompany him as he lifted the veil of the tapestry. Beneath it lay the doorway to a darkened tunnel. "which hall?" he asked.

"Far east, compartment 31D." Marcus responded.

Badger's heart froze. 31D? Again? He paused, then glanced back up at Marcus. "You canna be serious. We 'aven't had an episode occur down there fer weeks. I thought there was improvement?"

Marcus shook his head regrettably. "'Fraid not, sir."

"Ta me de..." Badger swore. Not entirely surprising, but still...As far as he knew, this was the longest stretch of time that disaster had been avoided successfully.

Badger wasted no time and crossed into the threshold. He walked down a dark, narrow passage that led to a sealed door. Marcus maintained a close distance behind him. Pressing his thumbprint on a security system, the door opened automatically, and Badger entered, stepping into room revealing a vast labyrinth of corridors. He navigating his way seamlessly through the extensive tunnels and byways that shaped the darkened burrow. Steel doors were latched on the sides of every wall, with numbers and letters inscribed on the fronts of them.

"How long as this been goin' on, Marcus? Why didn'tchu tell me the meds weren't workin' on 'er?"

"She lapses, sir, as the doc spake. Surmtimes she's wivout trouble, but next thing you know, she's blatherin' nonsense an' goh se."

Badger tensed, aggravated at Marcus' choice of words. Finally, he approached the door to compartment 31D. "I expected better of you, Marcus." he said as he typed the entrance code on the panel in front of the door, and the door breathed open. Badger leaned close to Marcus, speaking with intimidating force, despite his smaller size. "Don't give me an' excuse to eliminate you. Notify me when this stuff 'appens. Immediately. Or you're aimin' to find yur days of livin' ta be a mite limited." Marcus nodded apologetically, hardening his gaze to quell the fear he had regarding Badger's threat.

The room was dark. Badger saw the cause of the dilemma cowering in a corner, mumbling incessantly. A physician was crouched beside her, reaching to calm the poor girl.

"What's happened?" Badger asked, maintaining his distance.

The young physician sighed and looked up at Badger. "Another seizure, followed by a slew of incoherent babbling. She was on the verge of trying to gouge her eyes out before one of us heard her uproar. We've stabilized her some, but we're not sure how long it's going to last."

Badger watched the girl grimly. "Let me talk to 'er."

The physician nodded. "Of course, but..."

"Alone," he specified.

"Sir, with due respect, I'm not sure that's such a good idea...she's unpredictable enough as is, and-"

His eyes grew hard and dark . "Perhaps I wasn't bein' explicit enough. 'Less'n you want me to hightail you back into slavery like your hun dahn of a husband originally sent you here for, I recommend you do as I say."

The physician shuddered. An unattractive reaction for such a pretty brunette. Shame he had to intimidate her. "No, I...I understand. I'll just be outside the door. Let me know if you need me." She stood from her location and walked towards the door, giving a hesitating glance back at her patient as she left. She paused in front of the door, clearly deliberating if she should give one more parting word. Unable to hold back her exasperation, she turned back to Badger. "I know I'm over stepping bounds, sir, but if you want me to help your patient here, I really feel that it might be helpful if you filled me in on some of the secrecy. She's undergoing symptoms that I have never seen at this magnitude. What happened to her? Is there any way you can shed some light as to what caused her to have suffer the way she has?"

Badger's eyes never left the cowering girl's figure. "...slave trade, doctor...Don't make me remind you again." He responded; a threat to get her to stop asking questions. She couldn't afford to know the secrets he harbored from this girl. No one could know. It would cost him everything if they knew the girl's whereabouts...even her true name was dangerous to exploit. He couldn't risk it.

The doctor took the hint. "Understood. Sorry, sir." The door sealed shut, leaving Badger and the young patient in complete darkness.

"Well now, luv. Care to tell me why you's so upset?"

Jayne had been anticipating that the doctor would do something stupid. For bein' so smart, he sure didn't excel at thinking things through when it came to his moonbrained sister. Not that Jayne cared about both of them being gone. It would save the crew a ton of trouble, that's for sure. Jayne would have had no problem watching Simon leave Serenity on the spare shuttle to find his sister and stay gone for forever and a day. Hell, he'd eagerly be helping to haul his ass out of there and make it look like he'd done the prig a favor.

There unfortunately, was only one flaw with that wonderful solution to all his problems: The fact that the gorram spare shuttle was registered to Serenity. Iffen the Alliance nabbed those two young'uns (which, given how often they found themselves in trouble, the possibility wasn't that unlikely), then they'd trace the vessel right back to their Firefly model. Then they'd have it in for housing and assisting known fugitives. Even if the crew denied it, it wouldn't matter to the Alliance; they had to blame somebody for the prolonged absence of the Tam siblings.

A head-in with the Alliance would at least have some shootin' involved. Jayne was plenty settled with that. He loved a good fire fight. But even he knew that the law always prevailed in the end, even when the crew escaped by the skin of their teeth. It was not worth Jayne becoming another largely-sought after outlaw. Well...infamy was nice. It was an attractive quality for womenfolk, and it steeled terror into the hearts of men who would have otherwise challenged Jayne to a fair fight. Yeah, bein' infamous would be right shiny. But being dead or behind bars, though...not so much. And it was also likely that Mal probably would shoot him senseless if he discovered that Jayne allowed Simon to run off. That thought was a touch scarier than even prison was.

Immediately after Shepherd had (more or less) dissuaded the tension on the bridge, Jayne wasted no time to make sure Simon would not leave the vessel. As soon as he vacated the scene, he grabbed his Le Mat revolver and proceeded down to the cargo hold. From there, all Jayne had to do was wait for Simon's inevitable arrival. He lounged comfortably on the pilot's seat in the shuttle. Wouldn't take the idjit long to make his foolhardy decision.

Sure enough, it wasn't but five minutes and Simon was attempting to sneak into the shuttle. His footsteps were quiet-like, but Jayne could hear him coming due to the loudness and shakiness of his breath. Jayne scoffed at Simon's ineptness. It's not like he was wearing a space suit low on oxygen or nothing. He must tend to breath heavy when he's nervous. Bet he never got to successfully steal cookies in his rich-ass kitchen as a kid. Jayne found this last thought so amusing, he felt it necessary to repeat it out loud to get Simon's attention.

Simon jumped at the unexpected sound of Jayne's voice. Trying to hide his panic, Simon reached for a nearby wall and tried to lean against it nonchalantly. Though the words that escaped his mouth were anything but. A common problem, Jayne noted. Simon feigned hearty surprise, but his inflection was far from subtle. "Jayne...W-what, what brings you here?"

Jayne leered in response. "Don't play dumb with me, twinkle-toes. We both know why you're here; and I s'spect you got a purty good idea as to why I got here before you could." His eyes narrowed as he made his accusation.

Simon looked baffled, and...almost put out, Jayne reckoned. "Okay...clearly you're more perceptive than I'd originally assumed..."

Jayne couldn't quite tell, but that sounded an awful lot like Simon just gave him a back-handed compliment about not being an idiot. The aftertaste of Simon's comment tasted sourly like Lawrence Dobson's accusation back when the Tams first entered the boat. Pissed him off. What was with all these rich snots deciding that Jayne was some dumb muscle-man? Sure, he weren't very bright most of the time; but he sure as hell wasn't slapstick stupid either.What, did all the rich folk conspire to try and mock Jayne's intelligence? They seemed the only ones adamant in the belief that he was useless somehow.

Jayne pointed his gun at Simon's feet, offended. Mal talkin' earlier about being tempted to shoot him in the ankles...It done gave Jayne a great borrowed idea. "And clearly, you're not as smart as you claim." Jayne retorted, keeping his aim steady. "Now, you just get yerself back to your infirmary or wherever you like to brood, or I'll start showin' you the true definition of a 'twinkle-toes.'"

Simon raised his hands slowly, and tried to speak his peace. "Jayne, I'm just going to try and find River. I don't plan to commandeer the shuttle altogether. No one would even know I left—"

"I'm itchin' to test a theory here, pretty boy: See if dancin' ain't a hereditary trait in your family. Care to prove me wrong?" Jayne asked, losing patience. "Either you leave now, or I start shootin'. Then things are bound to get ugly. And I ain't just talkin' about the potential ugliness of your clogs, dong ma?"

"But, River..."

"Gorram it, doc, I don't care about your ruttin' sister! Get yer ass off this shuttle, or I'll blow it off for you!" Jayne cocked his gun to show just how serious he was.

"All right," Simon caved, taking a step back. "I get it; I'll leave."

"What's goin' on, fellas?" Kaylee's sweet voice announced her presence. She was all smiles, bent on staying cheerful as best she could. Until she took one look at Jayne's pistol. Then her smile dropped and exasperation took over. "Tzao gao. Did I really just waltz into yet another pissing match?"

Simon and Jayne both cast guilty expressions toward each other briefly, sharing the same sentiment. If something didn't sit pretty with Kaylee, then all hell would undoubtedly break loose. Kaylee proved them right.

"No. I ain't standin' for these short tempers any more today. Not if I can't help it. Jayne, put the gun away. I went and got dinner all set fer everyone, so you two best plan on joining in withOUT havin' any bickering. If I hear so much as one word that ain't pleasant, you'll lose yer eating privileges for the night! Go hwong tong." She gave a final glare before leaving Jayne and Simon to settle their dispute quickly in order to get food.

Jayne for one, really wanted food. Especially if Kaylee made it. He didn't know how she did it, but every time she cooked, she managed to make protein taste less like the goh se that it normally was. He wasn't inclined to let prissy Core boy take up his meal time. Eating sounded mighty pleasant compared to continuing to arm wrestle with the dopey doctor in any case. Jayne lowered his gun and slipped it lazily back into his holster. "Don't think that we're through here. After dinner, you an' me won't be friends just on account of Kaylee."

"I was never under the impression that we were friends." Simon replied laconically. "And, quite the contrary. You've made your point to me well enough. We have nothing more to discuss."

Then Simon departed.

Well, that was unexpected, Jayne thought. He hadn't anticipated for Simon to leave the scene with his head held high and his dignity intact. Jayne's intent had been quite the opposite. Hrm. What a buzz-kill. Jayne slouched back in the chair and thought for a moment, mildly perplexed: who in the hell actually won the argument? That thought truly had him stumped.

All in a day's work, Badger sighed, scuffing his shoes along the rough side street. Night had already consumed the docks at Eavesdown. Tourists and daytime busy-bodies had settled down significantly in numbers, with villains and doxies prowling in their place. On his way out, a voluptuous redhead had tried to pull Badger's attention her way, but Badger's thoughts were too preoccupied to really pay her any mind. Striking though she undeniably was, Badger didn't feel in the mood to flirt openly. Perhaps some other night. A night when indiscernible chaos wasn't spiraling out of his control.

Reality sometimes had a painful method of reminding him of how much his life truly sucked, despite his efforts to convince himself otherwise. Truthfully, the only times when he was pounded down by his depressing state of mind, was when he would return to his empty home every night. Wealth was great (no matter how he came to get it), but he never had anyone to share it with; and those he would, he couldn't because they were either too far away, behind bars, or too dangerous to exploit in a public setting. Badger sighed. Yep. His family was pretty messed up. He was no exception, most certainly. But he had to keep as clean a record as he could to keep the Alliance from breathing down his back. And the best way he could ensure that, was to break all contact with his family. Black business was better done with nothing to attach yourself to. Otherwise the Feds would trace your crime record faster than a bullet could fly. The laws of deductive reasoning were a bitch.

Badger paused at the crossroads of the bazaar. Everything was void of activity...silent. A few shopkeepers were closing up shop and heading home just as he was. But otherwise, the streets were entirely empty. He couldn't help feel a bit pensive in the stillness of the night. He redirected his gaze to the silhouetted horizon of the cityscape that towered just beyond the slums. Looming had always been the strong suit for those loyal to the Alliance. The sight of the lighted city was certainly no exception to this. He hated it. It made him feel like a bug beneath a magnifying glass. He deserved better. Badger's face contorted, as if he tasted something horribly sour, and spat at the dirt. He kept walking forward. Gorram politics making him all wound up...He just needed a flask of whiskey and some sleep. Alcohol did a convincing job of taking the edge of his mood.

Badger didn't live too far from the docks. He never liked the idea of being unable to get to his office in a hurry if something sudden had come up—a byproduct of being in a business that thrived in any given point in time. Marcus covered for him pretty well in the midnight shift. More of the dangerous folk preferred nighttime negotiations, and since Badger fancied himself as more of a businessman, day time hours suited him better. Men were more terrifying at night, and he had a harder time getting men like that to take him seriously. Marcus had more...presence than Badger did. He had the build, the intimidation factor, and he wasn't half bad at negotiating, either. If Badger ever felt compelled to pass the baton in the business, Marcus would be a decent candidate. Contrary to what Badger told him earlier, he had no intention to remove Marcus from the business. Mistakes happened; and Badger knew it would be a mistake to get rid of Marcus.

Badger approached the porch of his measly manor. His little niche in the 'verse. It wasn't much by way of looking at. In fact, it looked more like a geometrically enhanced version of a beaver dam. A four story home made entirely of wood. It was a bit weathered down, but it still succeeded in appearing dignified and authoritative in its own way. The roof was in shambles, and the awning on the porch was only supported by one pillar (he'd had a feisty argument with fella who got a bit possessive over his doxy), and the shutters on his windows were hanging on desperately to their hinges, leaning respectively where the wind blew them.

Not exactly the most respectable idea of a rich man's home. But Badger wasn't rich enough to keep the place maintained, nor did he really ever care much for perfection. A pristine home reflected a pristine man, and Badger would have nothing to do with either. Besides, it was the biggest house in the slums. It made him feel like a town mayor, because no one had ever bothered to try and remove him from it.

Badger removed his key-shaped pin from his lapel and used it to unlock his door. Then he turned the latch and entered. In the antechamber, he hung his wool blazer on the coat rack, followed by his derby hat. Badger put his pin safely in his pocket and loosened his ascot.

A sudden smell overwhelmed him. Was that...incense? Badger gave a deliberate whiff trying to detect the scent. Sure enough. He never used that stuff, though. Always made him want to gag. It was for that very reason that he never even owned incense. Someone was in his house; it was the only explanation for the sodding scent to even be present. The question was who, and why?

Badger slowly reached down at his ankle where he had a dagger holstered. Then, just as quietly, he tread down the hall, following the scent. He rounded the corner of the hall, entering his living room space. It was dark inside, and a bit hazy from the smoke of the incense. A figure was seated on his favorite lush leather couch. He couldn't detect who it was until they reached lethargically over to the lamp at the right of them. A dim light broke through the haze, and Badger recognized his uninvited guest immediately. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or downright angry.

She was curled up in his couch, hugging one leg over her torso, with the other dangling toward the ground. Expensive silk garments cascaded along her form, the jewel tones seductively complementing her skin. She tilted her head to the side, her big brown eyes cast directly at him. She looked like a saloon girl, especially with the smog of incense drifting around the dim warm lighting that the room provided.

Badger felt a sharp constriction inside his ribcage, shocked and baffled at the unexpected sight before him. He gave a small intake of breath, trying to alleviate some of the tension there. "Shun Sheng Duh Gao Wahn..."

*TRANSLATIONS*

pi gu - Ass

hun dahn - Bastard

Tzao gao - Ohcrap

Go hwong tong - Enoughofthisnonsense.

Goh se - Shit

Shun Sheng Duh Gao Wahn – HolytesticleTuesday.

A/N Yeah, so the ending portion of this chapter kinda sucks...I knew what I wanted to happen in the end, but getting there was difficult.

And I'm sure you are all REALLY confused with Badger's storyline right now, since both of his POVs end with a sucky cliffhanger. But, your confusion was deliberate on my end, so it's a good thing if you are. Don't worry, the following chapter clears things up, I promise.

READ AND REVIEW! PLEASE! :D