Ready or not!

Who: Micky, Jayne
Where: The Armoury
When: After fearing for Micky's nuts
Why: oh why, oh why, oh why……
"So tell me again how bloodthirsty this monster is…" Micky still
wasn't sure, even as he pocketed a couple of whizzbombs.
"Very." There was something strangely attractive about this…
"Wait. Did you say clone?" It suddenly hit home. "Of the cap… ex…
captain?"
"Mmhmm."
"Oh. I thought you might have just been related. So how… you…huh?"
He was overrun by questions, but speechless at the same time.
"It's a long story, listen, are you going to help me or not? Cause
if you aren't, you're useless to me!" She raised her bazookoid again.
"Yes! Okay! Just stop pointing that thing at me! You could kill
someone with that!"
"That's the point." Jayne was really starting to wonder if she
should just make this easier for herself and kill this idiot here and
now. Micky on the other hand was trying to find the next opportunity
to…
"You sure you wouldn't rather just come to the Parrotts with m..."
"Ask me out once more and the skutters will be sweeping parts of your
body from every floor of the ship." Good God, she's sexy when she's
angry. Micky could see himself being shot before his second day on
board was through.
"Hunting and almost certain death it is then," he said with a lump in
his throat. The second time today he had the feeling he was going to
die. "Are you bleeding?"
"I'll be fine."
"Look, I'm already half way roasted here. If you're the only one of
us sober enough to get us through this, I want to make sure you're
going to survive." He reached out to her.
"Touch me and I'll rip your arm off and beat you with it."
"Sorry." Enough messing. Micky finished off the special potion in
his flask, wincing as it burned down his gullet.
"Got any more of that?" Chrysler asked.
Not wanting to give any away, Micky reluctantly reached into his boot
and pulled out a smaller flask. He tossed it to Jayne who about
polished off the whole lot.
"I might be needing that," Micky told her, "if what I hear from you
and Holly is true. I might be needing a lot!" He tucked the mini
flask back and primed his bazookoid. "It's time to kick ass and chew
bubble gum!"
"Look, Duke, this is not play time. I'm gonna catch this thing with
its pants down and put a blast right up it's crack. Messing about
might get us killed." Holly appeared on the monitor nearest Chrysler.
"Please don't let this one get killed like the rest of um Jayne.
He's an alright lad, I suppose."
"Rest of them?!" Micky asked looking worried. "What rest of them?!
How many people has this thing killed?!"
"Don't worry Holly. If he does as he's told, he should come back in
less than three pieces. Let's go." She headed toward the door, "it
would be a good idea not to look suspicious. We don't want too many
anti-vigilante vigilantes sticking their noses in."
Wondering how you make an entry level technician walking around armed
to the teeth following an even more heavily armed trainee pilot look
anything other than extremely suspicious, Micky left the armoury with
Jayne, wondering how he went from being toaster bait to monster bait
so quickly.
His head was starting to swim and the beautiful feeling of drunken
haze set in. Monsters or no, Micky was happy again.
<Try not to kill him lagerlot!>