ｅｕｐｈｏｒｉａ • one-shots and imagines

smirks and ties - simon tam

Beep. Beep.

I twisted around in my bunk, exhaling into the thin sheets.

Beep. Beep.

Sitting up sharply, I grabbed the source of the shrill noises - a small, boxy clock - and hurled it across the room. The flimsy thing shattered on impact in a rain of plastic and little bolts. I grumbled and dragged myself out of the cozy bunk tucked into a niche on the wall and landed on my long, limber legs. I had that sort of build where I had wonderfully lengthy legs, yet I was still shorter than half the people I worked with. Though, I was luckily still taller than my boss.

With a sigh, I tugged on my clothes and strapped on my weapons. Securing my short blonde locks under a newsboy cap, I strode outside to my sleek, one-man ship.

Today was the day I went to an Alliance ass-kissing planet they christened as Cerebus. Clicking a few blinking dials, my ship hummed to life as I selected the coordinates to the dusty, backwoods planet. Being one of Badger's highest-ranking goons, I got sent on these sort of jobs. I was instructed to meet with an unknown persona about a specific job, and they would then carry the info to one of Badger's favorites besides me. The Serenity crew. I had heard much about them; a not-too-well-known group of anti-Alliance folk who went about their way as smugglers. Though never actually meeting them, I admired them for previously turning down many of Badger's jobs to take care of their own. And, myself being a Browncoat supporter despite their downfall in the war, also liked them for knowingly slipping out from under the Feds.

I steered my ship out of its high-maintenance garage filled with all sorts of mechanics, and the vehicle shot into the sky at a break-neck speed. I was out of the atomesphere in a matter of minutes and hurling through the twinkling black of space.

My name is Lynx.

Originally, my parents named me Anica Lee, but I stopped answering to that the day they gave me up for disease research.

I am a twenty-five-year-old blonde girl with a love for ass-kicking and flying ships. I work for a short, black-market crime lord who goes by Badger. He must like the fierce aspects about me, because he hired me the day I shot him in the foot for his attempt at flirting with me.

I am headstrong, defiant, sly, and full of perfect material for a thief and a smuggler.

And as I went on my way to confront an unknown person, I had no idea what I was in for.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Sitting quietly in the back of a stinky, run-down Alliance pub, I waited for my wristwatch to tick at 10 o'clock pm; once it did, I slid outside quietly, pulling the leather jacket closer around my lean form.

The alleyway was just as odorous as the inside, the only difference being the wind swirling the stench around. It was dark, and pieces of trash skittered across the pavement. I swore I saw a few rats. The alley fairly summed up the entirety of Cerebus: nearly empty, dusty, and covered in trash. It was quiet, save the sounds of rubbish crumpling beneath my combat boots. I huffed, pulling down my cap a ways. I bit my lip, hard, casting a short glance around, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I immediately whirled around, fingers stretching towards my type 34 Green Road handgun and twirling it out of its holster. My eyes had found another person tucked away in the shaded corner. The gun remained by my side, but my muscles were ready to snap up and pump the newcomer with light, lead-based spheres of ass-kicking gun glee.

The figure lifted their hands in a swift, jerking motion, and in a sleek male voice came a panicked, "Woah, woah, I was told to meet someone here." I frowned, not lowering my gun. I spat out a riddle to him in Chinese, a riddle Badger had passed to me as code, which the man answered in a stammering tone. I exhaled sharply through my nose and let my arm fall limp, the gun dropping to my side. I didn't put it away.

"What's the job, then? I'm guessing you're the info deliverer," I said rather curtly, tilting my chin up a ways to look at the man. I gestured for him to step out into the range of a flickering street light, and he did so without hesitation. He was rather tall and toned, dressed in a crisp black suit. He grasped his tie between steady fingers, as if trying to loosen it. That would have given him away much too easily, I mentally critiqued. His hair was black and combed neatly, and he had dark eyes set into a handsome face, in which he was gazing at me warily. I stopped short, thinking I had seen him before, but brushed off the thought.

"It's a combat job, good pay. You're to acquire some sort of bag I believe -" He seemed to be thinking as he moved his hands while he spoke. The man paused.

"Well?" I inquired. "Location? Details on the cargo?"

The young man considered for a moment. "Shouldn't you already have the details?" he asked carefully. I raised a brow, looking at him blankly. This dude was obviously not fully experienced. My eyes narrowed further when his fingers inched slowly to the inside of his coat. I clicked my gun and raised in a quick breath, giving him a deadpan look.

"You're not telling me everything. Spill," I said flatly, my weapon aimed straight between his eyes. His arms raised again.

"I - we, were told you would be working with us," he said simply and truthfully.

I stopped. Then groaned. Reaching up to rub my temple, I muttered, "Badger said nothing about a joint job."

The man smirked faintly, again fiddling with his tie. "Seeing as the info Badger gave us on you was a list of bounties on your head, I'm going to guess you need the money."

I twirled the gun in his direction. "The name's Lynx, and don't get cocky, punk. Just give me your name, you wanted criminal."

He looked taken aback and now seemed a little more on edge that I had noticed he was supposedly 'wanted.' The man shook his head and offered a hand.

"Simon."