Status: Completed 4/27/07

Word Count: 1,747

Author's Note: The Chinese translations were taken from a few different Firefly sites. I couldn't find anything saying how long the war lasted, so for the purpose of this fic, I'm going with five years.

*words* is someone's thoughts

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Mal sighed heavily as he waited for his captors to return. "Well now, this is an unexpected twist." He muttered. The manacles held his hands up shoulder length apart; his feet barely touched the floor. He estimated it had been about an hour since they'd, literally, left him hanging there. His shoulders where beginning to get sore, so he stood on his toes to relieve the stress on them. The position did nothing for his throbbing head either.

Mal snorted in disgust as he looked around the room as much as his current position would allow. The Alliance definitely had more than just talking in mind. He estimated the room to be about twelve foot by twelve foot long. The wall in front of him held a rack with instruments that held the promise of a whole lot of pain for the person or persons unlucky enough to have them used on him. *I get the distinct impression I'm gonna be gettin’ personally acquainted with some of those things. Real up close and personal like.*

There was a whip hanging by the handle from a hook. Next to it was what appeared to be a cattle prod. Mal gulped and prayed they'd avoid using that one on him. Not that he _wanted_ them to use any of those things on him, but that one just looked particularly nasty. He remembered hearing stories of them being used on Earth-That-Was to control livestock. His eyes moved onto the next item and he felt his stomach tighten. *What the hell do they use _that_ for?* It appeared to be a very wide blade with a hook-like tip. His eyes glanced over the other items. They didn't look any less scary.

Feeling the bile rise in his throat, Mal looked away from the rack. Other than a hose just to the left of the rack and a plain metal chair in the corner, the res