Firefly was originally invented by Joss Whedon and co. This is his 'verse.

The drink was unusually bad in the Sha-ho tonight. And when the drink was bad, that usually meant bad things for Captain Malcolm Reynolds.

The Sha-ho was a bar with a very poor reputation, one of violence and murder. Unfortunately, it was the only place on Taohise that didn’t swarm with Feds, and Mal needed that, for many reasons. Firstly, he had some issues with the Alliance. Mostly, however, it was due to the stolen security key he had in his pocket that would open up most doors in the city.

So it wasn’t a surprise when the bartender was accused of watering down the ale, and even less of a surprise when guns were drawn. What it was, was an irritation. A complication. And if there was one thing Capt Reynolds didn’t like, it was complications.

The first shot fired off by the bar. Mal grabbed his gun from the holster, and kicked the table to act as a shield, noticing that Jayne and Zoë also did so.

“Zoë!” he cried down his radio. “Return fire, but be sure not to hit the contact!”

“I knew we was here for something!” Jayne cried, and whooped as he leant out from his cover and shot a man in the back. The man hit the ground, his drink mixing with his blood as the red and brown liquid spread along the already dirty floor. Mal sighed, and fired his pistol, a highly modified pistol from his times as a soldier.

Suddenly, the door below opened, and a man emerged. He made a “come here” sign to Malcolm. “Cover me,” he hissed down his microphone.

Verra, (Jayne’s name for his gun) exploded seven times, and bullets found their way into three men. Mal ran out as Verra fired again, this time the spread of bullets hitting another few men, allowing Reynolds to make it to his contact.

“You know, sometimes I really wish we could find some pubs with only a handful of blood thirsty men,” he said.

“You got my key-card?”

”Yeah, yeah,” Malcolm said defensively. The man in front of him smiled, his cloak hiding his face. The door behind Mal suddenly op