A New ‘Verse-VII-Inside

A figure towered over Mal as he lay on his back in the cell, huge and dark skinned; his erstwhile rescuer.

“That was a close one, friend. Harris and his boys don’t always feel like backing down like that.”

“Lucky me then,” said Mal, rolling over and standing up.

The cell was really a block of four, the middle walls smashed down and the pieces blocking up all but on entrance. There was a half dozen people scattered around the cell; a skinny Asiatic boy watching the door, shiv in his hand. A short young woman hovered in the background, hair raven black and curled. She was pretty and would have been beautiful, except for a scar which ran from the middle of her forehead, across her left eye and down to the lobe of her ear. There was another man, older than Mal, stocky and thick necked, his head shaven, a lump of scar tissue protruding from his neck. A fighter, Mal guessed, one who had seen plenty of action.

The older man spoke, “You sure are lucky. If it hadn’t been for her, we never would have moved to pull you out of that.” He pointed behind Mal and he spun, coming face to face with Dash Simmons, leaning against the wall, a smile on her face. Her hair was longer than when he’d last seen her, tied back in a pony tail and dirty and there were new scars and bruises, but it was Dash. He’d know those purple eyes anywhere.

“Hiya Sarge,” she said quietly, “Ain’t surprised you’d wind up in a place like this.”

“Hullo Dash,” Mal grinned back at her, “Its been a while.”

“Wait a minute,” cut in the dark haired woman from across the room, “You two know each other?”

“More than a little,” grinned Dash, “Mal and me are war buddies. And I don’t go around getting my friends to save ordinary people from gangsters.” Dash grinned wider and jumped forward and hugged him, Mal hugging her back fiercely. “What did you get yourself pinched for Mal?”

Mal released her, breaking away from the familiar contact, “That might take a bit of explaining Dash. Why don’t you introduce me to your fine lookin’ friends