Everything about the opening ceremonies for the new Family and Life Support Center is tastefully coordinated in order to appeal to a wide variety of supporters and clientele both
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Bajian Li is swearing furiously under his breath as he and the rest of the team strain to hear what's going on, navigating through the unnatural darkness by kinesthetic sense, sound, and sheer determination.
But it's the strange fiery flickers from the stage which give him the clue he needs, at last.
A few more desperate seconds, and then--
Light.
Magnesium hisses as Li lights the first flare, sending an arc of harsh, spitting white fire from his hand. He throws it into the aisle, already lighting a second, then a third, while the lieutenant beside him screams,
"We have visual, we have visual-- the Senator's down! Repeat, Tam is down-- go, go, go!"
"I have no intention of hurting the others," Crowley says stiffly. "Maybe you've forgotten that's not the only thing mine can mean."
He lays his hands down carefully in the cradle behind drawn-up knees.
"What I want to know is why you've come for Gabriel Tam. If you're not here on Rosse's orders - and I'm fairly sure I don't believe you on that count - then why? What's your reasoning, Raguel?"
"Oh, he pointed me in this direction," he says, shrugging.
"Loaded and cocked and pointed at his enemies. Fucking hypocrite. But I looked into Tam on my own. All kinds of fun stuff that he doesn't even bother to hide. Weapons, allies, shifting playmates. He stands to gain quite a bit. Own gain, own glory. Not fair to the rest."
"And I haven't forgotten," he adds, face strangely blank. "What it means."
"You mean the IIGA?" Crowley says, though it's hardly a proper question. "Sure. He stands to gain a lot. I stand to gain a lot - that's why I'm a supporter. That's politics. But those weapons are also a slightly thicker red line between folks on the Rim and the Reavers, Browncoat idiocy or no. That's what the IIGA is about."
Pale and dishevelled and faintly clammy, Crowley's still visibly - tangibly - nervous.
He curls his lip.
"So if that's why you've come for Tam, now, then you're doing a pretty shoddy job at digging up justifications for barking when Rosse says bark."
"I am not Rosse's puppet," he says, with a certain amount of cold pride.
"You'll have to find a way to trust me on that one. And given that you've just claimed a man who Rosse clearly wants dead, I hope to hell that he doesn't imagine you are, either." Raguel's general confusion seems to have diminished somewhat; anger is keeping him focused. It's not an improvement.
"Yeah, IIGA. You can't seriously be sitting in here to defend your own hope of personal gain. And you know how I feel about unfair advantages," he adds, and the dreamy look returns.
"So. You seem pretty sure this one should be thrown back. Why?"
"What I think of him doesn't matter," Crowley retorts, shifting on the cold floor and wincing slightly.
"You're here on account of the IIGA, and I'm telling you the IIGA is neutral, at worst. It gives the Rim some form of defence that might actually be halfway effective against what's out there - and whilst it might boost Tam's popularity around the fringes of the Alliance, yeah, it's a start on redressing the imbalance of power between Core and Rim."
"And we all know how you feel about unfair advantages."
"We do, don't we? What's 'out there' that the Rim needs defense against, save the Core? You wanna protect them from themselves, is that it? It's been tried. Tried and failed. From themselves." He snorts.
Crowley stares at Raguel, mouth hanging ever so slightly open, before giving a strangled, coughing laugh. Elbows on his knees, he presses his eyes to the back of his hands, and says;
"I can't believe I'm sitting here trying to have a rational political discussion with you."
"The Reavers, Raguel," he repeats, then, without looking up.
"Two years ago," Crowley says, yellow eyes flickering like the afterimage of Raguel's flames. "Two years ago, I just might have let you take him."
He turns his hands over to examine his palms, fingers flexing and curling as though trying to catch the cool air he blows through them.
"Teacher taught me not to lie. Cross my heart and hope to die."
He speaks dispassionately, now, though some curious quality of the words themselves curls off his tongue and palate and seems to leave a stain. He looks at his red hands, and pictures the blotchy handprint left across River's cheek.
"Fifty needles in my eye."
"This time two years ago, I'd've been tempted to lend a helping hand, because of what he was once cowardly enough to let them do to River Tam."
But it's the strange fiery flickers from the stage which give him the clue he needs, at last.
A few more desperate seconds, and then--
Light.
Magnesium hisses as Li lights the first flare, sending an arc of harsh, spitting white fire from his hand. He throws it into the aisle, already lighting a second, then a third, while the lieutenant beside him screams,
"We have visual, we have visual-- the Senator's down! Repeat, Tam is down-- go, go, go!"
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He lays his hands down carefully in the cradle behind drawn-up knees.
"What I want to know is why you've come for Gabriel Tam. If you're not here on Rosse's orders - and I'm fairly sure I don't believe you on that count - then why? What's your reasoning, Raguel?"
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"Loaded and cocked and pointed at his enemies. Fucking hypocrite. But I looked into Tam on my own. All kinds of fun stuff that he doesn't even bother to hide. Weapons, allies, shifting playmates. He stands to gain quite a bit. Own gain, own glory. Not fair to the rest."
"And I haven't forgotten," he adds, face strangely blank. "What it means."
Reply
Pale and dishevelled and faintly clammy, Crowley's still visibly - tangibly - nervous.
He curls his lip.
"So if that's why you've come for Tam, now, then you're doing a pretty shoddy job at digging up justifications for barking when Rosse says bark."
Reply
"You'll have to find a way to trust me on that one. And given that you've just claimed a man who Rosse clearly wants dead, I hope to hell that he doesn't imagine you are, either." Raguel's general confusion seems to have diminished somewhat; anger is keeping him focused. It's not an improvement.
"Yeah, IIGA. You can't seriously be sitting in here to defend your own hope of personal gain. And you know how I feel about unfair advantages," he adds, and the dreamy look returns.
"So. You seem pretty sure this one should be thrown back. Why?"
Reply
"You're here on account of the IIGA, and I'm telling you the IIGA is neutral, at worst. It gives the Rim some form of defence that might actually be halfway effective against what's out there - and whilst it might boost Tam's popularity around the fringes of the Alliance, yeah, it's a start on redressing the imbalance of power between Core and Rim."
"And we all know how you feel about unfair advantages."
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"We do, don't we? What's 'out there' that the Rim needs defense against, save the Core? You wanna protect them from themselves, is that it? It's been tried. Tried and failed. From themselves." He snorts.
"People forget that selves can change."
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"I can't believe I'm sitting here trying to have a rational political discussion with you."
"The Reavers, Raguel," he repeats, then, without looking up.
The palms of his hands are an angry, mottled red.
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"Reavers, huh." He looks thoughtful, as much as one can when sitting in a storage closet covered in blood.
"Like I said," almost to himself. "Selves can change."
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"You think I'm working from old information?"
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"No. Your information is too new."
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"And they call me crazy. How d'you figure?"
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He turns his hands over to examine his palms, fingers flexing and curling as though trying to catch the cool air he blows through them.
"Teacher taught me not to lie.
Cross my heart and hope to die."
He speaks dispassionately, now, though some curious quality of the words themselves curls off his tongue and palate and seems to leave a stain. He looks at his red hands, and pictures the blotchy handprint left across River's cheek.
"Fifty needles in my eye."
"This time two years ago, I'd've been tempted to lend a helping hand, because of what he was once cowardly enough to let them do to River Tam."
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"I remember River Tam. I... remember what."
There's a long, uncomfortable pause.
"He let them do it?"
He doesn't raise his voice, but he's half-up off the floor by the time the words are out, eyes blazing, flames sparking unnoticed from his fingertips.
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