Highlander/Firefly 1/1
It's Day 9 of consci_fan_mo and today I present another snippet from my Browncoats & Scabbards 'verse. Don't worry, this one's a flat out adventure and not maudlin in the least!
The title is from the song by The Steve Miller Band.
Thanks to aeron_lanart for the beta.
Take the Money and Run
Richie pulled absently at the neckerchief that was currently covering his mouth and nose, causing a miniature avalanche of the sand that had settled there on the ride into town. He looked over to where Jayne stood, holding his gun, Vera, in a way that could only be described as a caress. Richie couldn’t decide if that was funny or creepy.
“Ready?” he asked. The big mercenary nodded and pulled up his own neckerchief. “Shiny, let’s go.”
They burst through the door of the bank, guns aloft, and Jayne fired off a single shot into the air, causing everyone inside to panic; some ran for the door but most crouched down or just stood and stared, eyes wide with fear.
“Nobody move or try anything heroic and we’ll all get out in one piece, dong le ma?” Richie instructed. “All of you down on the floor.”
“‘cept you,” Jayne said and pointed Vera at a pretty bank teller. “You take me to the money.”
Richie could practically hear the leer in Jayne’s voice and knew the teller was just his type; a female with a pulse.
“Keep your mind on the job,” he reminded his partner. Jayne gave a non-committal grunt and followed the girl toward the vault.
A few minutes later, both Richie and Jayne were laden with as much cash as they could carry and were headed back out to the street. Richie paused in front of the door; he couldn’t resist one parting line; he’d always wanted to pull an old-time bank heist like the kind Amanda used to pull with Cory Raines.
“We’d like to thank y’all for being so cooperative, and for giving so freely to our cause.”
As he spoke his back was to the door, so he didn’t see the three Alliance soldiers that walked in at that point. It was hard to tell who was more shocked: the soldiers or Jayne.
“Wang ba dan!” one of the soldiers exclaimed, causing Richie to turn around, gun raised. As he did, one of the soldiers opened fire with his own weapon, hitting Richie twice in the chest and once in the gut.
Richie dropped like a stone to the floor, dead. Jayne, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, dropped the money bags he was holding and raised his hands above his head.
“Good choice,” one of the soldiers said and came forward to take Jayne’s guns. When he laid hands on Vera, Jayne growled, but he didn’t resist. No sense in getting himself killed.
“Oh thank you!” exclaimed a little man in a suit and glasses who came up and shook one of the men by the hand.
“Just doing our job, sir. Can I take it you’re the manager?” the soldier replied. The little man nodded. “We’ll be needing this as evidence. Corporal, write them a receipt,” he added and then began picking up the bags of money.
“Yes sir,” replied the corporal, pulled out a pad and wrote something on it before tearing off a sheet and passing it to the manager. “Should take about three months before we can release the evidence back to you. Course you can always file a claim in the meantime, sir.”
“But…the money…” the manager protested weakly as two of the soldiers grabbed most of the money bags and took them outside.
“We’ve been after these two for months; they’ve robbed just about every bank between here and Persephone. There may well be a reward for you in this, sir,” the squad leader said.
The other two soldiers returned then and the squad leader pointed his gun at Jayne before addressing his men.
“You two, take that one’s body out to the transport, I’ll escort this one and the rest of the evidence.”
The two soldiers lifted Richie between them and walked outside, followed closely by Jayne and the squad leader.
*-*
Once they were out of the city limits a good way, Jayne poked Richie with the toe of his boot.
“Aint he s’posed to be awake by now?” he said.
Methos pulled off his Alliance helmet and glanced over at Richie’s prone form.
“Not much longer. You didn’t need to shoot him three times, Captain,” he commented to their pilot.
“Just selling the part, Old Man,” Mal replied with a grin.
“That was a pretty clever idea of yours, Methos,” said Zoe. “They won’t even know they’ve been robbed until they put in the claim.”
“By which time, we’ll be long gone and they won’t remember what we looked like,” Mal added. “Got to say, you two are plenty earning your keep. Not saying I ‘preciate wearing this getup, mind,” he added, fingering the Alliance uniform.
“Know what you mean, sir. Makes you feel kinda dirty,” Zoe agreed.
“Yeah, but you can buy all kinds of soap with this much cash,” Jayne put in. He was saved from whatever retort Zoe was going to make by Richie’s resurrection.
He sat up and fingered the holes in his shirt.
“Three shots, Mal? Seriously?”
“Bizui, nansheng” Mal instructed and grinned widely, knowing that Richie hated anyone but Methos using that nickname.
“Why do I always have to be the one to get shot? It’s not as if I enjoy it,” Richie said, ignoring the jibe. “Next time, Old Man, you can get killed and I’ll play the Purplebelly.”
“But you do it so well, nansheng,” Methos replied and leaned over to pinch Richie’s cheek. Richie glared at him.
“River, get the engines going, we’re getting off this dustbowl,” Mal said into the comm., barely concealing his own smile.
“Dahng ran, Captain. Richie, I think you die very well,” River replied. Methos laughed.
“That’s because he’s had so much practise!”
*-*
Translations:
dong le ma? understand?
wang ba dan son of a b***h
nansheng schoolboy/kid/brat
bizui shut up
dahng ran of course
The title is from the song by The Steve Miller Band.
Thanks to aeron_lanart for the beta.
Take the Money and Run
Richie pulled absently at the neckerchief that was currently covering his mouth and nose, causing a miniature avalanche of the sand that had settled there on the ride into town. He looked over to where Jayne stood, holding his gun, Vera, in a way that could only be described as a caress. Richie couldn’t decide if that was funny or creepy.
“Ready?” he asked. The big mercenary nodded and pulled up his own neckerchief. “Shiny, let’s go.”
They burst through the door of the bank, guns aloft, and Jayne fired off a single shot into the air, causing everyone inside to panic; some ran for the door but most crouched down or just stood and stared, eyes wide with fear.
“Nobody move or try anything heroic and we’ll all get out in one piece, dong le ma?” Richie instructed. “All of you down on the floor.”
“‘cept you,” Jayne said and pointed Vera at a pretty bank teller. “You take me to the money.”
Richie could practically hear the leer in Jayne’s voice and knew the teller was just his type; a female with a pulse.
“Keep your mind on the job,” he reminded his partner. Jayne gave a non-committal grunt and followed the girl toward the vault.
A few minutes later, both Richie and Jayne were laden with as much cash as they could carry and were headed back out to the street. Richie paused in front of the door; he couldn’t resist one parting line; he’d always wanted to pull an old-time bank heist like the kind Amanda used to pull with Cory Raines.
“We’d like to thank y’all for being so cooperative, and for giving so freely to our cause.”
As he spoke his back was to the door, so he didn’t see the three Alliance soldiers that walked in at that point. It was hard to tell who was more shocked: the soldiers or Jayne.
“Wang ba dan!” one of the soldiers exclaimed, causing Richie to turn around, gun raised. As he did, one of the soldiers opened fire with his own weapon, hitting Richie twice in the chest and once in the gut.
Richie dropped like a stone to the floor, dead. Jayne, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, dropped the money bags he was holding and raised his hands above his head.
“Good choice,” one of the soldiers said and came forward to take Jayne’s guns. When he laid hands on Vera, Jayne growled, but he didn’t resist. No sense in getting himself killed.
“Oh thank you!” exclaimed a little man in a suit and glasses who came up and shook one of the men by the hand.
“Just doing our job, sir. Can I take it you’re the manager?” the soldier replied. The little man nodded. “We’ll be needing this as evidence. Corporal, write them a receipt,” he added and then began picking up the bags of money.
“Yes sir,” replied the corporal, pulled out a pad and wrote something on it before tearing off a sheet and passing it to the manager. “Should take about three months before we can release the evidence back to you. Course you can always file a claim in the meantime, sir.”
“But…the money…” the manager protested weakly as two of the soldiers grabbed most of the money bags and took them outside.
“We’ve been after these two for months; they’ve robbed just about every bank between here and Persephone. There may well be a reward for you in this, sir,” the squad leader said.
The other two soldiers returned then and the squad leader pointed his gun at Jayne before addressing his men.
“You two, take that one’s body out to the transport, I’ll escort this one and the rest of the evidence.”
The two soldiers lifted Richie between them and walked outside, followed closely by Jayne and the squad leader.
*-*
Once they were out of the city limits a good way, Jayne poked Richie with the toe of his boot.
“Aint he s’posed to be awake by now?” he said.
Methos pulled off his Alliance helmet and glanced over at Richie’s prone form.
“Not much longer. You didn’t need to shoot him three times, Captain,” he commented to their pilot.
“Just selling the part, Old Man,” Mal replied with a grin.
“That was a pretty clever idea of yours, Methos,” said Zoe. “They won’t even know they’ve been robbed until they put in the claim.”
“By which time, we’ll be long gone and they won’t remember what we looked like,” Mal added. “Got to say, you two are plenty earning your keep. Not saying I ‘preciate wearing this getup, mind,” he added, fingering the Alliance uniform.
“Know what you mean, sir. Makes you feel kinda dirty,” Zoe agreed.
“Yeah, but you can buy all kinds of soap with this much cash,” Jayne put in. He was saved from whatever retort Zoe was going to make by Richie’s resurrection.
He sat up and fingered the holes in his shirt.
“Three shots, Mal? Seriously?”
“Bizui, nansheng” Mal instructed and grinned widely, knowing that Richie hated anyone but Methos using that nickname.
“Why do I always have to be the one to get shot? It’s not as if I enjoy it,” Richie said, ignoring the jibe. “Next time, Old Man, you can get killed and I’ll play the Purplebelly.”
“But you do it so well, nansheng,” Methos replied and leaned over to pinch Richie’s cheek. Richie glared at him.
“River, get the engines going, we’re getting off this dustbowl,” Mal said into the comm., barely concealing his own smile.
“Dahng ran, Captain. Richie, I think you die very well,” River replied. Methos laughed.
“That’s because he’s had so much practise!”
*-*
Translations:
dong le ma? understand?
wang ba dan son of a b***h
nansheng schoolboy/kid/brat
bizui shut up
dahng ran of course