Michael and Dan shared a dorm in the most prestigious Hebrew university on Beleraphon. The whole campus was suspended on a floating metal plate above the galaxy's largest ocean, sharing the skyline with other floating islands for miles in every direction. They were both studying to become lawyers, hoping to one day make their way into politics. Any who knew them knew also how passionate they were about the state of the Alliance these days.

Michael and Dan had both done a genetic study in their high school. That was actually the first time they'd gotten to know each other. They looked a lot alike despite sharing no family relation: both had naturally tan skin, deep features, and dark hair. Their gene analysis, when compared with historical archives, had confirmed they were both descended from a place called Israel on Earth That Was. Michael had already known that about his family. His grandfather had told him so, but being able to just look it up like a page in a book was a nice experience as well.

So it came to be Michael's grandfather had given him a present. A pointlessly powerful pistol called a Desert Eagle that fired half inch wide projectiles. Many members of his family over the years had served in Space or Terran forces, and his grandfather had won many private firearms competitions when Michael was a boy, before handguns were demonized by the authorities and carrying them became completely illegal. Still, the old Eagle was a family heirloom. Michael's grandfather had claimed it had been in his family since something called World War 2. Being an intellectual, Michael had tried to confirm this fact. As best Michael could tell, the firearm had been manufactured some fifty years later, and had been in his family for over five centuries. Nothing about it was original anymore except the barrel, slide, and frame. Still, it was a work of art, heavily chromed with every square inch sporting Hebrew writing. It belonged in a museum.

In complete violation of campus policy, Michael had the pistol under his pillow as he slept. It had been a gift on his sixteenth birthday, and he couldn't have left it behind for college had he wanted to. He knew sleeping with a weapon under your pillow was paranoid, the purview of people who lived in the lawless Rim planets, but the previous night had been a little busy.

It was morning and the sun wasn't up yet when Michael heard a clicking sound come from his doorknob. Dan was asleep across the room and snoring softly. Telling himself he was being paranoid and the stress of his night job was getting to him, Michael established a grip on the Desert Eagle anyway.

The clicking sound had been exactly what Michael was afraid of. Someone was checking his door to see if it was open. The door blew in with a booming sound

So that's what this looks like from the other side.

and four armed men tried to storm into the cramped dorm room.

Michael knew he was dead as he opened fire, questioning the decisions he'd made that led to this. He never considered giving up, despite not fully understanding what was happening. It was possible his parents' lawyers could have gotten him out of jail time. Had someone simply knocked on the door and asked him to come quietly he most likely would have done so, but all things happen for a reason.

The first slug tore through the skull and helmet of the point man (actually a woman) and through some twist of chance, or ballistics, kept flying. The bullet continued on through the heart of the man behind her, putting them both down with the sound of a single gunshot. The entry team hadn't expected Michael to be armed (Who would?). Michael kept firing, one handed. The short distance and surprise more than made up for the horrible position he was in. The next six bullets tore into his two attackers, three to a man, and they fell as Michael's weapon ran dry.

Had anyone cared to time the spectacle that day, they would have found it took less than a second from the door caving in to the weapon running out of ammo.

"Wha' happennin?" Dan asked, startled awake. It would have looked comic under less deadly circumstances.

Michael climbed his way out of bed and began ripping on his clothes, denim pants and a Chinese cut shirt in blue. "We have to run!"

"Exercise?" Dan asked. He still didn't know what was happening. "Now?" Then he noticed the bodies piled in front of the door. "That's not good," he said, dumbly.

"Move!"

Michael and Dan dressed quickly and grabbed their bug out bags, both wishing they'd done a better job of preparing them. They'd never really thought they'd need to run like this, but preparation kept them out of jail that day. As they ran away, Michael tried to make sense of what had happened. His attackers had no back up. That meant they were bounty hunters. The sound of the gunshots were likely to bring the Feds soon, but in the ten minute window, Michael and Dan would be gone. Checking the bodies quickly before leaving revealed they were wearing thin, light body armor designed to stop handgun bullets. Michael swore from that point on, he'd never complain about the weight of his pistol again. Had he been firing a smaller caliber, only the point man would have gone down.

Dan armed himself with one of the pulse rifles on the floor, and Michael felt a pang of guilt at seeing the non-lethal weapon as he and Dan made their way out of the dormitory. The entry team had planned to take him alive and mostly unhurt.

No one else in the dorm so much as looked out into the hallway. People from the Core knew better than to move toward the sound of gunshots.

"Hey, Mike," Dan said once they'd exited the building. A thought had just occurred to him.

"What?"

"Finals start next week. We were just about to graduate and be done with this place forever."

.

Victor was doing push ups, rising and falling as fast as he could make himself while keeping his body straight. When he couldn't do that anymore, he rolled over to do sit ups. When he couldn't do those anymore, he stood. He waited two minutes by the count of the room's clock, then started over.

He was shirtless, his coat, shirt, and belt on the room's table. River was asleep or unconscious on the invitingly large bed. Victor had considered undressing her, but couldn't bring himself to do more than take off her boots. She didn't seem the type to take kindly to waking up in strange hotels naked, so she could ruin her dress. Besides, taking advantage of a disturbed girl, even with a legitimate excuse, was wrong. Victor kept repeating that fact to himself.

Victor was on his fifth set and considering stopping when River finally came to. Her eyes opened and she looked up. Seeing a tall, shirtless man standing over her, she reacted exactly how Victor had assumed she would. Some small part of him was pleased to know that, as strange as River was, in some ways she was still just a girl.

River wrapped one arm over her chest and places her opposing hand over her lap, sitting up.

"Don't worry," Victor said, snickering. "I didn't do any sex stuff to you." He managed not to laugh outright. Proudly declaring innocence of sexual molestation does little to instill confidence.

River relaxed slightly and looked around. "What happened?" Looking back up at Victor she added. "Where's your clothes?"

"I'm trying to get a work out. I'd be clean and asleep right now if I didn't have to keep checking to make sure you didn't stop breathing," Victor said. "Just be glad I'm wearing pants. A delicate lady such as yourself would be unable to... ah...something, something penis joke." Victor gave up on making a joke and continued, "We're in a hotel. The speeder's dead, remember?"

River did remember. She also remembered Victor's anger, burning out of control. He seemed to be fine now, but...

"What happened to you?" River asked, looking at Victor's chest.

"Those are called nipples. Even boys have them," Victor said, looking down at himself. "But 'why?', I have no idea."

"That's not what I mean," River said. Something was...different. She stood and walked over to Victor, poking him in the chest with her finger. Then, she poked him in the stomach. And she kept poking him at various points on his torso.

"If this is foreplay, you suck at it," Victor said, not sure what her fascination was with his body. He had the heavy, fat slabs of muscle one would expect of a circus strong man, mixed with a little extra flab from what he was starting to refer to as his "drunken pirate phase". He in no way resembled an underwear model, as he had always thought pretty little girls liked.

"You have more muscle than you did in the infirmary."

"I've been working out," Victor said as if it were the most obvious thing in the Verse. "Like... a lot."

"Muscle doesn't grow that fast," River said, mimicking his smart assed tone of voice. "Even if you have been lifting with Jayne."

"I had a thing done," Victor said waving off whatever River was getting at.

"Gene therapy?"

"Yes ma'am," Victor said. Elective procedures weren't entirely unheard of. "I had a 'muscular degeneration reversal' and a 'neuro-synaptic enhancement'. Cost me quite a bit. Actually the second one kind of wears off after a decade or so."

"Why?" River asked frowning. "It costs a lot of money, right?"

"Six and a half hundred thousand creds," Victor said proudly.

That made little sense. "You spent the price of a nice house so you could have muscles and faster reflexes?" River asked, incredulous. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Victor asked, his voice dropping two octaves.

"What?"

He placed a hand at the small of River's back and pulled her close. "How else could I have such shirtless moments with women in random hotels?"

"You reek," River said, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She pushed him away and took a step back. "And your not getting out of answering me. No one pays that much just to look pretty."

"You really think I'm pretty?" Victor asked, fixing River with his cheesiest of cheesy grins.

"You make jokes constantly," River said, looking him dead in the eye. For a moment, Victor could actually feel her looking into his head, searching for an answer. "Because you don't want to talk about things that are important."

"That's pretty cliche," Victor said. He dropped back to the floor and started doing push ups. "You're smarter than that."

"Your dodging the question."

"You've been spending too much time with the Companion," Victor said as his push ups slowed. "You're not my girlfriend. Or therapist. You have zero need to know my business." Finishing up, he hopped back up, standing as straight as he could. He figured River was beyond such petty shows of intimidation as "looming" but it didn't hurt to try. "You'll get nightmares."

River met his wolf's stare. She focused as hard as she could to keep from being caught up in his thoughts. She could feel that he wanted to hurt her, and not physically, either. He was tempted to answer her questions honestly. The only thing stopping him was his notion that making mentally unbalanced people worse was beneath him. The buzzing bees and the barking dogs were kept at bay by the dam of control and the floodgates were closed, but the hands were tired from holding the chain. "What happened?" River asked. She tried to copy Victor's fatalist nonchalance, but couldn't. She was scared. She knew her own psyche was frayed around the edges, and wasn't sure what another bad memory would do to her. Especially one that even a coked up killer wouldn't allow himself to think of. Unfortunately River was smart. "Smart" usually leads to "curious". There's a cat somewhere that can attest to the value of not giving into one's curiosity.

"I left my company about six months ago," Victor said, staring, unblinking, into River's eyes. He wasn't psychic, but he was fairly good at reading people. River wondered if this strange mixture of fear and curiosity she felt was what other people felt when they looked at her. "To get married and go freelance, so I could take jobs that allowed me to spend time at home with the little lady."

The bees were buzzing louder than ever. River blinked first and looked away. "It didn't work out," River said, drawing the faintest outlines of the story from Victor's mind.

"To say the least," Victor said, closing the memories off from his (and by extension, River's) mind. "She's gone and it's my fault... but to answer your question, the money was supposed to buy us a house."

Victor lay down and started doing sit ups as River sat down on the bed. One last set, then he hit the shower and went to bed, stuffing his shotgun under his pillow. River stayed up the rest of the night, telling herself she didn't want to spy on the man's dreams but doing it anyway.

.

Victor had taken over the bed. He'd climbed in, clad only in his underwear and offered to share the blanket with River. River turned up her nose at such an offer. Truth be told, very few ladies fell to Victor's particular brand of humorous sexuality, so he wasn't surprised at all. Later, he reflected on the fact that River didn't seem to sleep anymore that night, in the bed or on the floor.

He woke to River practicing with his sword, which was too long for her. Despite this, she managed run through several basic katas with ease.

"I had a thought," Victor said, watching her move as he climbed out of bed and pulled his shirt back on.

"Another genitalia related quip?" River asked, seeming less than interested.

"No," Victor said. "I just thought it's kind of sick that someone would do to you what was done to you when there are guys like me running around the Verse. Also, why genius upper class kids? Why not orphans? Or criminals? Or volunteers? People would volunteer for a super spy program."

"I share your assessment," River said. Practicing, studying, flying, and dancing all had a way of calming her down and letting her focus more easily. It was easier to talk about the bad things when she was distracted. "It was all experimental. Had the process been perfected, the combat applications would have been unlimited." She returned the sword to sheathe and the sheathe to the small table. "Your weapon is off."

"What do you mean?" Victor asked. He'd designed it himself and hired a blacksmith on Aeries to build it for him. His eyes narrowed. "You didn't break it did you?"

"It's too long."

"Oh, that," Victor said, belting up. Normally swords stretched from ankle to hip. On Victor's sword, the blade alone stretched from ankle to hip and the pommel was three hands long instead of two. A round, brass knob perched at the end of the pommel, serving as a counter weight and a bludgeon. "What's your point?"

"And your shotgun..." River continued, handing Victor his sword, balanced on the palms of her hand.

"What's your point?" Victor asked again, replacing his sword to sheathe.

"It's an eight gauge right?" she asked. "No one carries those."

"Your not just gonna' tell me what your getting at, are you?" Victor asked, sighing.

"You're compensating."

Victor laughed. A little. "Nice." Victor got the impression River was a little out of practice at making jokes. It's not as easy as he made it look.

"Thank you."

.

The rest of the adventure went off with only the smallest of hitches. Victor loaded down a few more pockets with more gold at the bank and got directions to the nearest motor shop.

"Why are we going to a motor shop?" River asked.

"To get a vehicle," Victor had answered.

"What about the speeder?"

"Petaline's gonna get a towing bill tomorrow. I'll leave her enough money to cover it," Victor replied.

"I think that would be a major inconvenience," River said. She wasn't referring to the bill either. Lying to the authorities was something she'd come to terms with on Serenity, but it was usually the territory of close friends and family members.

"Haven't you hear the golden rule?"

"'He who has the gold, makes the rule'?" River asked, lifting what he'd been going to say from his mind.

"Yup."

They found the shop easily enough. A lot of the soldiers that came through and had more elaborate tastes than "drink" and "whores" rented from the same place. Victor proceeded to buy a vehicle in gold, on the spot.

"It has wheels," River said, blankly. "Why does it have wheels?" They were standing in the lot, staring at a two wheeled vehicle powered by a micro reactor. Aside from not using fossil fuel or electric batteries to power it, the vehicle was in most respects a good old fashioned motorcycle.

"So it can move from one place to the other," Victor said.

"Why not get one that hovers?"

Victor sighed. Some people had no respect for the classics. "This one is cheap, quiet, and easy to maintain. I can take it with us on the ship and it won't take up much room."

"What if it falls over?" River asked as Victor climbed on.

"Are you for real?" Victor demanded, a little annoyed.

"Sometimes," River said in her "dreamy" voice.

Victor patted the seat to the motorcycle behind him. "Get on. It'll be fun. Don't worry, chicks like motorcycles."

.

While River found Victor relegating her entire gender to "chicks" and insisting that everyone without a Y chromosome would react the same way to a motorcycle ride offensive, he'd been correct. Tearing across the sandy plain on the way back to the Heart of Gold as fast as the bike could go was one of the more exciting experiences of her life. At one point, the bike almost went over as Victor swerved to miss a particularly large rock and River asked why he didn't slow down. He'd said the trip was going to take too long as it was, but she could read his mind. At the end of the day, he was having as much fun as River.

Victor didn't slow down as the bike tore down the tiny street of Gold City, telling himself people need some excitement and that justified the risk of running people over. He even managed to power slide the motorcycle to a stop outside the Heart, despite the weight of an additional passenger.

"So what did you think?" he asked River, grinning his stupid grin.

"It was okay," River said in the most bored voice she could manage.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Simon's voice demanded as Victor set the kick stand and River got off the bike. Simon strode out of the Heart. Victor and River both noticed offhandedly that he looked angry. Really angry.

As Victor dismounted he looked at Simon, then turned his whole body to look pointedly at the Heart of Gold. He looked back at Simon. "Did you spend the night here? You have the coolest girlfriend in the world!"

"What happened?" Simon demanded.

"No, seriously dude, marry that chick," Victor was still saying. "Like... yesterday."

Simon turned his back on the rambling idiot and asked River in as calm a voice he could manage, "What happened?"

River thought about it for a second. In a voice best suited for reading from a textbook, she said "Well... first we were married in the bank, but when we left I was his girlfriend for a fight, and after I won I was a whore while I won all the money in the casino, but when the car got shot full of holes, we were in the hotel and nobody did any 'sex stuff'." Looking down at herself, she added "I got a shiny new dress!"

Victor and Simon listened to what could potentially called a story, wide eyed and amazed. Simon was unable to process what he was being told. Victor, on the other hand, thought it was the most beautiful example of storytelling since... ever. For a moment, he wasn't sure if River's version of events was actually how she remembered it or if she was just giving her brother the business and he didn't care. It was awesome.

Simon slowly turned to Victor, hoping he could shed some light on the situation. Victor surprised himself by keeping his face neutral despite ever urge to laugh hysterically. He was a professional after all, and everyone knows you don't contradict your coworkers story. It's bad manners.

"What she said," he told Simon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I know there's not a lot going on here, but I had to force out some more details. Hopefully I did it in an entertaining way. I'm an anime fan and I normally like to drop random details (River only sleeps 4 hours a night, gene therapy, why is there a Desert Eagle, etc.) in on the fly, but all three-and-a-half of my fans say back story should come BEFORE front story to avoid confusion. I was going to have Michael and Dan show up later and tell a short version of why they had to run, but instead... face shooting.

As always, I love the feed back. Thanks for reading.