You Can't Stop the Signal
When they tried to screw the Browncoats over, the Browncoats rose to the occassion, never one to run from a fight, even at the doomed Serenity Valley. It was Thursday, the day before the fabled Flanvention II was about to occur. Fans from around the 'verse had begun to gather, almost 150 of them that first night in the hotel, comiserating in the hotel bar. Why were they not rejoicing and celebrating? Because the evil Booster Entertainment had pulled the rug out from under them, stranding them, without a convention.
No reason was given for the decision. All the fans knew was that their beloved convention had been canceled. They talked amongst themselves, grateful for the chance to meet other Browncoats, but angry at the fun that they knew would never be a part of their lives. Some of them had paid thousands in coin to flock to California, to have meet and greet opportunities with the stars of "Serenifly" as it is known throughout the fandom. Alas, Haven had been trashed, destroyed by an evil alliance. The fans drowned themselves in alcohol, while a warning was sent to all others: Stay Away. Many heard the warning, and took heed. Others, eager to meet with other Browncoats, boarded their boats, anyway, eager for an adventure.
That first night, it seemed that all had been lost, until one man walked into the bar. He bore no weapons, and had come at the behest of no one. No reward was promised for his involvement, but he felt a deep-rooted need to be with his people, to come to the rescue of the floundering Browncoats, to give them a shrivel of hope. When he entered the bar, the crowd sprung to their feet, immediately engaging in a round of "The Man They Call Jayne." A hero had walked into the bar, not just a hero of the screen, but a personal hero to all those who had felt the weekend had been permanently lost. He came in to talk to the fans, to sit with them, to drink with them, all without the promise of a reward. His services were offered for free, and even better, he said he had spoken to the Captain. Things began to look up for the stranded Browncoats.
The next day, reinforcements arrived in the form of the California Browncoats. They showed up prepared to salvage what they could from the wreckage, and the word spread throughout the fandom, once more, that the kindness of the Browncoats was apparent, that no power in the 'verse could stop them.
The rest of the weekend was filled with visits from heroes, from stars whose names had been unattached to the debunked FLAN, heroes who gave of their time freely, who asked for nothing in return. The California Browncoats kept everything moving, and the grateful fans would scream of their kindness throughout the 'verse.
However, not all has been restored, for though the Parliament has been hurt by the message, the Reavers run wild, refusing to return the carcasses of the dead, refusing to return the cashey money, refusing to answer the questions of the hurt populace. Those who never boarded their boats cry out, screaming for answers, for an intervention, for something to come together for them. This terror and hurt has sent ripples through the 'verse, but the ship flies true.
Even though this particular Browncoat was on the opposite coast, and in no way affected by FLAN personally, she's grateful for what the people of the 'verse banded together to do. There is still kindness in the black, and there is determination in the form of the Browncoats. Answers will be sought, and the Alliance will be held accountable. As Mister Universe's equipment sent a message out to the worlds, we have sent our own: This will not be forgotten, and you can't stop the signal.
No reason was given for the decision. All the fans knew was that their beloved convention had been canceled. They talked amongst themselves, grateful for the chance to meet other Browncoats, but angry at the fun that they knew would never be a part of their lives. Some of them had paid thousands in coin to flock to California, to have meet and greet opportunities with the stars of "Serenifly" as it is known throughout the fandom. Alas, Haven had been trashed, destroyed by an evil alliance. The fans drowned themselves in alcohol, while a warning was sent to all others: Stay Away. Many heard the warning, and took heed. Others, eager to meet with other Browncoats, boarded their boats, anyway, eager for an adventure.
That first night, it seemed that all had been lost, until one man walked into the bar. He bore no weapons, and had come at the behest of no one. No reward was promised for his involvement, but he felt a deep-rooted need to be with his people, to come to the rescue of the floundering Browncoats, to give them a shrivel of hope. When he entered the bar, the crowd sprung to their feet, immediately engaging in a round of "The Man They Call Jayne." A hero had walked into the bar, not just a hero of the screen, but a personal hero to all those who had felt the weekend had been permanently lost. He came in to talk to the fans, to sit with them, to drink with them, all without the promise of a reward. His services were offered for free, and even better, he said he had spoken to the Captain. Things began to look up for the stranded Browncoats.
The next day, reinforcements arrived in the form of the California Browncoats. They showed up prepared to salvage what they could from the wreckage, and the word spread throughout the fandom, once more, that the kindness of the Browncoats was apparent, that no power in the 'verse could stop them.
The rest of the weekend was filled with visits from heroes, from stars whose names had been unattached to the debunked FLAN, heroes who gave of their time freely, who asked for nothing in return. The California Browncoats kept everything moving, and the grateful fans would scream of their kindness throughout the 'verse.
However, not all has been restored, for though the Parliament has been hurt by the message, the Reavers run wild, refusing to return the carcasses of the dead, refusing to return the cashey money, refusing to answer the questions of the hurt populace. Those who never boarded their boats cry out, screaming for answers, for an intervention, for something to come together for them. This terror and hurt has sent ripples through the 'verse, but the ship flies true.
Even though this particular Browncoat was on the opposite coast, and in no way affected by FLAN personally, she's grateful for what the people of the 'verse banded together to do. There is still kindness in the black, and there is determination in the form of the Browncoats. Answers will be sought, and the Alliance will be held accountable. As Mister Universe's equipment sent a message out to the worlds, we have sent our own: This will not be forgotten, and you can't stop the signal.