A deep ache in Mal’s shoulders and arms ruthlessly pulled him out of his drugged sleep. Blinking through the disorienting residual haze, he lifted his head. A jolt of excruciating pain raced from his neck down his spine at the movement. While more than unwelcome, it at least had the effect of clearing his vision.

‘Go se,’ he thought, ‘this don’t bode well’ He found himself suspended from a beam running the length of the room, hanging naked by irons at his wrists placed a shoulders-width apart. His ankles were similarly cuffed. Experimenting gingerly, he discovered that if he stretched his legs and feet as far as possible, he could just barely reach the floor. Resting on the tips of his toes, he tried to ease the ache throbbing between his shoulder blades. The room was dark, but cracks in the walls and ceiling allowed a feeble early morning light in. Unfortunately, they also allowed a chilling breeze to blow across his exposed flesh.

Whoever had him, he thought uneasily, had less than no interest in seeing to his comfort. The room gave no clue as to its owner, and Mal was more than a little anxious to see the person or persons responsible for his current predicament.

Time passed slowly, and Mal measured it by the progression of the light across the floor over which he hung. The early morning breeze gave way to the stillness of midmorning, and still Mal had no indication of life anywhere nearby. Alternating between resting his weight on his toes and hanging from his wrists, he waited.

Finally, at what Mal estimated to be about noon, the door swung open, and two men walked in silently. Looking to be at least Jayne’s size, they stood staring at him expressionlessly. Realizing they were simply muscle for some as yet unknown enemy, Mal stared back, trying not to look at all intimidated in his vulnerable position.

The door opened again, revealing a face with which Mal was all too familiar. “Hey, Ath,” he said, as casually as if they were meeting over tea and cakes.

Atherton Wing looked