Many years ago…

“Excuse me ma’am, I was a wonderin’ if this here holster was also marked down?” A younger version of Mal grinned widely at the elderly woman behind the dusty counter, attempting to be friendly. She glanced over at him and gave a disrespectful twist of her head.

“What you think you needs that fer, youngin’?” Slowly she shifted her old body so she could get a good look at the young man. All she needed was a glance and her old age and experience told her all she needed to know. “You fix on a doin’ whats in your head young man, and yours life wiln’t be the same from heres on out.”

Mal straightened himself in silent defiance of her curt remark. “Just asked a simple question, that’s all ma’am. If’n you not willing to sell, I’s can spend my time better elsewhere.” His eyes held the hard look of a seasoned man who had seen too many horrible things during a lifetime. The old woman recognized that hard glint in his eyes. She had seen it in the look of her husband before he had gone crazy and killed himself. Many of the men in the village had changed ever since the Alliance had gotten it in their heads to start squeezing the border planets until they simply broke.

“Listen up young man. Theres a many would like a fancy holster to keep their piece in, think it gives them all the right in the world to do as they please, acting all tough and mighty. But it don’t mean a gorram thing. If you can’t wield the anger inside of you, and control it, then having a fancy holster ain’t gonna give you that edge to pretend that you’re a big boy now, and can play grown-up games.” Her eyes were hard as flint, and for once in Mal’s life he found himself not able to hold his gaze with hers. “You gotta think real hard on what decisions you gonna make, or else it doesn’t mean a gorramit thing. Dong ma?” The sudden burst of conviction from the old woman suddenly exhausted her, and she had to sit back down on her old stool.

Mal stared hard at the ground, thousands of thoughts swirling around in his head. He glanced si