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His stature was firm and strong. Anyone passing him would immediately move to the side, forcing themselves not to look up in eyes. He could feel their fear and he could feel their confusion. There was so much of the two emotions that he thought he'd puke from it. These people haven't seen an Alliance official in a long time, he was trying to be reasonable and understanding that they saw him, the Alliance official, and that would make them nervous. But he doubted they knew who he was, what he did, what he was going to do. Which was a good thing, only the people on the Core planets knew what he was. But they as well didn't know who he was or what he was going to do. And that was okay with him, because then he'd just fade away, melt into the abyss and becoming nothing. That was how he worked the best. The dirt shuffled on his shiny black shoes, they were almost plastic looking, though they were made of leather; the dirt that got kicked up stuck to his shoes, making them scruffier and they also went as far as to sticking to the bottom of his pants, making his originally hospital blue pants into something a bit more darker. But he didn't mind, he had a mission, he had no time to keep up with appearances, especially with these people. Plus, he was on a short run, had a time limit to hunt this guy down. He was given two years, which was bad, considering how this guy seemed to disappear off the face of the Earth, or really, Earth That Was. He made sure to check for his guy on any recent criminal activity, but he found nothing. Just like him, this guy he was hunting was also in the abyss and invisible, that meant that he had to sniff out the guy and he would have to start precisely where he came from.

Which was Shadow.

The formidable desert planet was not welcoming to The Operative, then called Caleb Andrews. At least the part he landed in and where the markets were, were completely baffling to him. It amazed him that people could actually live like this, it made him sick how he watched the woman slaughter a chicken and actually skin and defeathered it themselves. It turned him green when he saw the men Shepard the sheep into a corral, didn't these men have something far better to do with their lives? Instead of actually trying to maintain an education and getting something done for the greater good of life, they spent their time getting fat, feasting on fried chicken every night in front of the television, then thinking they could work it off when they move the cattle into the pen. But as the Operative moved through the most active towns and markets, he began to see something a little more different. There was actually grass growing on a side of the road, weeds covered a now-dead rose garden and the sheep turned into cows, pigs, more chickens and there were a few dogs that roamed about as well. But the lifestyle that the people lead here was not appropriate for them. Especially when they could do much better and probably only scrape with all the hard work they put into everything they do. If they tried extending it a bit, they'd realize that the could earn money without doing anything at all. If only the Operative could be able to drill that into their minds.

But that wasn't the job. That was the Alliance's job and the main priority of the Operative, then called Caleb Andrews, was to rid of all potential threats to the Alliance in achieving their goal, which was to unite all planets into one unification. Caleb had no idea as to why it mattered so much that the Independents would fight so hard to resist the Alliance control when the Alliance was going out of his way in order to bring peace to the savage outer planets. The thought that it actually happened was just baffling to the Operative as he crossed the dirt, the sun blinding his eyes as he shielded them from the bright yellow-white light. But he reminded himself not to waste any more of his brain cells on the question that will never be answered. He asked his father and his teacher why the Independents resisted, but they just said something about the Independents needing to go their own way and that they didn't like to be meddled with. At this point, Caleb would then ask why they would want to be so stubborn and then why would they not like to be meddled with. His father and teacher would then get frustrated by the never ending questions and would send Caleb away to his room to ponder on his own thoughts. The Operative shook his head as he finally entered the land that belonged to the target's mother, perhaps she would have enough sense to give some information to the Operative without giving a tone that he would send her off to heaven. He had no problem with killing and would do anything to achieve his goal.

He entered the place without being invited, opening the screen door when an aroma of freshly baked apple pie hit his nose. He crinkled in reunion to the smell and waved his hand in front of his nose in an attempt to rid of the smell, but it didn't really help. He stepped forward, smoothing his uniform and making sure that his patch was all nice and shiny, easily noticed by anyone who was looking at him. The target's mother was inside the kitchen, humming to herself as she moved about, not noticing that the Operative entered the room. At this, the Operative was a little angry, his presence was always important and if he entered the room, everyone would know it, even without seeing him enter. He cleared his voice loud enough that the woman froze and turned. The look of surprise on her was just priceless as the Operative looked her over. She was a plumb and well fed woman, definitely had a motherly feel to her and it made the Operative almost puke, seeing a woman who lived like this so happy and dandy in a world like this. The woman's eyes also trailed over the Operative as she then rested her eyes on the patch, then muttering, "Operative."

The Operative nodded, smiling. It was almost evil-like, threatening and made the other woman uncomfortable. He moved around with a grace that only he could pull off. The one where he was stealthy and quick, silent and fast. He was obviously dangerous, gave the feeling of dead around him, gave the feeling of threat around him, gave the feeling of no mercy. He sat down in a wooden chair, almost hesitating when he saw that it was made of wood and no cushion was upon it, again, he wrinkled his nose slightly and sniffed rather snobby way of fashion saying, "That's right, Mrs. Reynolds, I am an Operative. That means you are enforced to answer my questions, they are your requirement, or I will force you into doing so."

"Why are you here?" the baked apple pie that was in her hands was completely forgotten and there was a tremor in her voice, she sounded scared and worried all at the same time. It only until the Operative went over the woman's response did he realize it also had a bit of confusion, did that mean she had no idea about her son? She also changed her tone, made her sound more intelligent, as if she saved this way of talking for someone who was from the Core. So perhaps she did have a proper education and perhaps she wasn't the only one.

"I'm here to ask questions on your son, Malcolm Reynolds."

"I do not know where he is."

"Perhaps, but you can give me other information, I am sure."

The woman in front of him was plump and motherly like. It was obvious that this woman had spent almost all her life making sure that her son was happy and a carefree child, at least, up until the point where he was old enough to move out. She was rosy cheeks and tanned skin from the many hours of working outside, she wore a sundress, one that fit her well and hugged her hips tightly, it was covered in sunflowers and doused in white-yellowish tuning to it. It was long enough to cover her knees and a white apron was wrapped around her waist. He noticed that she also wore a mother-of-pearl necklace around her neck and walked around in black two-inch heels. Upon her head were thick and stringy curls with the fiery and vibrant red colors, but there was also blonde...it was to perfect that it made him wonder if it were even real, perhaps it was dye job. She was the figure of a mother and she seemed to have the personality of it as well. She seemed to be bubbly and kind, the one to greet everyone she meets at a grocery store and help out in community welfare. She was probably the woman every little boy and girl wished his or her mother would be like. But right now, her glare took all her elderly beauty out of her face. She had a wicked gaze upon him, and it angered her more when he did not stir, he could see the fury and enragement in her eyes. It was here that he saw where Malcolm Reynolds got his famous glare that would silence a room if necessary. It was obvious that his mother is where he gained his confidence and will, this woman would not break down to reveal her son, her will was too strong and she'd rather die before she would betray the man she gave birth too. She was, in every way possible, undefeatable. Invincible. A strong woman was far harder to break than that of the will a man had, a woman was to feel obligated to be strong, and they thrived until their last breath. The information he needed cannot come of good from her mouth if she were dead, which, to his horror, he might have to do in order to just silence her. It'd be a waste to take her life without gathering information, for it would put himself and the Alliance in danger, as well as start him straight back to square one. And he knew just from the horrendous glare he was receiving from her that she would not back down, she'd rather die.

That left only one option for him to take. Which was to find her weakness that most likely could and would take hours, days, months, and even years to find. And with a woman of that stature and will, it wouldn't be surprise to him if it were to take a few decades to find what he was looking for. He gave a crooked, sly and devious grin at the woman when she cleared her throat, saying, "I can't help you." There was a satisfaction nod from him, but it wasn't directed at what she said. It was morely at the kitchen. It was bright, covered in the light and dark yellow shades. It was a large kitchen, there were many open spaces, but it gave a feeling of warmth and feeling, comfort and coziness. He took an apple from the fruit tray that lie on the table and bit into it, chewing on the apple while he inspected the place. He failed to notice the footsteps of another presence in the house the first time, his mind was so preoccupied with his thoughts, but he was aware of it now as he paced around the kitchen, looking from the baked apple pie in her hand to the fruit tray on the table to the dirty and clean dishes on the sink. He scrutinized the kitchen, making sure not to miss anything and not to let anything slip from his mind. He hated it. The kitchen was horrendous to him, the brightness feelings towards it, the atmosphere of welcome and comfort it brought. All of it, every inch, every fiber, every tile, every wood, every paper, all of it was artificial. This was all only possible because of the Alliance, not this peasant woman who simply refused to cooperate with him. Another nod came from his head when this thought settled in his mind, women like Mrs. Reynolds was unaware that their fortune was simply because of the existence of the Alliance.

He took another bite of the apple, his eyes and thoughts finally peeling from the kitchen and it's interior, then set the apply precisely where he had found it, the bite marks he left still imbedded in the now soiled apple. "Tasty apple," he said, giving a cynical smile to Mrs. Reynolds, as well as another nod to the motherly figure, whose face showed of so much disgust that it would have seriously made The Operative, then called Caleb Andrews, laugh...if he had the will to do so. Unlike most people, the Operative was trained to hide his emotions, and it just so happened that he received top scores in that section of his training, he had always been wonderful at hiding his true feelings, he was always able to fool people. He remembered once that his friends and family other than his parents would tell Caleb he'd be an excellent actor. For a split second, Caleb was interested in the limited profession, but it quickly dried out when his parents spent more and more time drilling into Caleb's head that he was meant to serve the Alliance and that the best way to do that was the enlist as an Operative. The Operative was more than happy to fulfill his parents' wish, after all, he was only made to be a doll to them. He paced the kitchen again, stopping purposefully at the door of which led to the backside of the house and probably towards the ranch. He gave a significant glance at the motherly figure, a glance that made the woman's blood drain. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The Operative did not hear the faint footsteps that appeared for a moment, then stopped after a second. At that particular moment, his thoughts and mind were too preoccupied with other things that whirled in his head. But he'd always been aware of the third presence in the house, his intuitive had been probably the one thing that enabled him to qualify to train as an Operative, it was the one thing that was his most successful score and the one thing that he needed vitally in order to do his job. With his being very perceptive and observative, he can detect someone's thoughts from their facial expressions, he could get into someone's head and torture them verbally. He could do all sorts of things that would send anyone into madness, he could do anything to make the other person talk; he was just naturally talented that way. Along with the talents, he also gained the ability to detect the presence of someone who was trying to hide, he learned to heighten his hearing and his seeing with his operations, but also added in, as a bonus, was something that helped him 'expand' his intuitiveness. Of course, almost inevitably, he was sometimes wrong, but for the most part, he was right when it came to one of his feelings, he found it extremely helpful in his missions, and also realized that it helped him raise and gain favor from the Alliance super officials. He continued to walk around the room, leaving in the air a foul mood that quickly enveloped the entire kitchen into turning into a place of darkness and despair, fear and abandonment. He walked behind and past the woman saying, "Mrs. Reynolds, you will realize that it is best to cooperate with me. I am in a foul mood already with seeing this kitchen, you do not wish to cross me," he made a full circle of his pacing and stopped when he came to the entrance to the rest of the house, "or I will be forced to make amends that I do not wish to make." He walked into the doorway frame and gave another significant glance towards the woman. There was a moment of pause before he continued to say, "And you, little girl. I suggest you put that gun away before you accidentally shoot off your foot," he directed this comment to the...perhaps, eighteen or nineteen, year old girl whom was hiding outside the door with a hand on her gun.

"Hello there. I'd offer you an apple, but looks like you've already done that. I'd introduce you to this wonderful woman by my side, but it looks like you've done that as well. Anything else? No? I guess then I’ll just have to ask you to leave."

When the teenage girl stepped from the shadows and openly let her presence be revealed to the Operative, the Alliance super official was quite impressed, and regardless to say, surprised at her boldness. He had grown up in a world of luxury, money and sophisticate. When a small child, Caleb would hear stories about the savage outer planets who were not so enlightened by the Alliance attempt at creating universal union and ending segregation that polluted many planets. Stories that were so false, they were rumors. One example of these 'rumor stories' is the story (or stories, really) that included some sort of bug type alien as an antagonist. The bug type alien that ate everyone and didn't stop until everything was destroyed and it was the cause of all the wreckage. The stories were science fiction and meant to scare people, but with the ability to travel to different worlds, Caleb found that the whole thing was rather absurd. If there were any alien bugs, or any aliens at all, they'd realize it by now, having to travel to dozens of planets when Earth That Was was forgotten and vanished from the memories of people. Incest was also a popular story that Caleb heard, brothers and sisters, cousins who were executed and hanged because of their crime. Stories were also developed that told the tale of a princess or prince having to be saved by the opposite sex for the sake of love. But there were some stories that Caleb did believe in. Such as the ones that contained how people of the outer planets lived. Poverty, crime, disputes. Anger, frustration, hate. He believed every single thing said about the lives of the people who lived there. He remembered that the men were strong, but they were stupid intellectually as well. They were selfish, only thought of themselves and did what they could in order to get what they wanted. The women were the opposite, submissive and having no backbone. They obeyed what their husbands or fathers said, they disregarded their mothers. And the children were lowly and succumbed to whatever they were exposed to, they were weak, rarely spoke out and took whatever was given to them, good and bad. It led Caleb to believe that children were neither bold nor strong, but that they were weak and shy. Caleb believed so much in these stories that he took them to heart. Shadow was his first mission that required a truly savage planet, he hadn't expected the child to speak out for her mother (or perhaps aunt?) or become so bold as to challenge an Operative.

But he quickly resided that away, again using his technique of hiding his emotions. But he was not going to deny himself the fact that he thought the child had more to her than the children did in the stories that he heard often when he was younger. At this point, the Operative immediately saw a little bit of himself in the child, which was odd, considering that he'd never crossed paths with someone who was even remotely like himself. But at the same time, he also developed little respect and admiration for the child, it was very rare to see someone of so young to speak out against anyone (especially someone who was an Operative or Alliance super official), usually that task was reserved for the parents or guardian. Now, instead of Mrs. Reynolds protecting the child, it was the other way around. That showed true courage and strength in someone, for a child to stand up with it was not obligated to do so (the Operative could instinctly remember that these traits were quite useful in the Operative training program, they were also highly valued.) But these thoughts that revolved around admiration of the teenage girl disappeared even more quickly that it had come. Instead, he currently revolved his thoughts around the situation and how he was going to make the two of them talk. The gun that the girl held in her hand as she walked from point a) the dark passageways and to point b) beside the woman was shining quite brilliantly in the heavy lighting in the room. The operative was far to keen to find that it shined brighter than it usually did; it seemed to stand out, giving him a warning sign that he was not going to take. It never occurred to the Operative that Malcolm Reynolds had a sister, from the way that he moved with things and thought things concluded in anyone's mind that he was an only child. He was spoiled, a brat and to put quite frankly, a punk. Anyone who had a sibling would never have a chance to develop those traits which said in the Operative's mind that the child beside the elderly woman was probably only there for a short time, or Mrs. Reynolds was looking after the child. But that didn't matter, what mattered now was getting the information that he needed. He'd didn't have to kill both of them in order to silence them, or for any possible reason, but the Operative had no problem with doing it if it was necessary, over the eight years of being an Operative, he's learned to cope with such deaths and the fact that he was the one who did it. A sneer snide crossed the man's face that was clearly directed at the teenage girl, his mind fully aware of the gun and the fact that she was trained enough to shoot him accurately. But the Operative was going to get his information, either that, or he died, of which if he did, then it did not matter if he received the information or not. He was offended by the girl's curt tone and her sarcasm that would have made him proud if she stood for the side that she stood upon. It was completely obvious that she despised the Alliance, her hatred fired in her eyes and the Operative was intuitive enough to detect the hostile glare from when she was hidden in the shadows.

The sneer held on his face for a few more seconds as he did not budge from where he was left standing, before the snide vanished for a few seconds. She was trying to provoke him, using a tone that would usually knock the annoyance out of someone else. But unlike most Operatives, this Operative was quite patient and lax. He was not uptight nor in demand. He could stay here all night if he wished, but he did not. He did mention that he had a deadline in finishing this job, and he'd do it in that time, because his reputation and his state of mind depended on getting this job finished before the time bomb blew off. The center table where the fruit bowl was stood in the middle of the two women and himself and he inched forward with boldness and defiance as the snide smile, which was not fake, returned and was plastered upon his flawless, handsome face. He proceeded with a slow and steady pace, using his technique in order to mock the girl as well as annoy her. Getting under the skin of the opponent was the first thing to do when starting an interrogation, it was one of the first lessons that he received while at the Academy. His head bent down a little, eyeing the floor for a moment and taking his eyes and mind off the gun held in the child's hand, then his gaze (somewhat crazy and maddening) returned to the girl, who was currently his target in this fight (or perhaps it was Mrs. Reynolds whom he was fixating his gun upon?) He was fully armed and wearing bulletproof armor, his head was left untouched but that did not worry him as much as it might have to other people; he and both women knew that if they stood for a fight, they would loose, he was far more trained in this sort of environment of violence. He would win this fight if they challenged him. He stopped about a foot from the girl, disregarding everything that she was doing, as well as the elderly woman and took out his own blaster, pointing it to the girl, instead of the elderly mother of Malcolm Reynolds.

"You will answer my questions," his voice was not directed to the person where the gun was pointing at, but actually to the woman who was beside her, even though his eyes were fixated at the child and his sneer smile still upon his handsome face, "Because I understand that you know I will kill this child if necessary. Now, before I proceed with my questions, that teenage child there will give me the gun she is holding and any other weapons that she has," he pulled out another gun, this time pointed at the elderly woman, "Otherwise I kill you both without asking any of my questions at all, and I will tell you, that will annoy me to a great extent. So, figure this out. You do as I say, answer the questions I have, and you both live. For today. For the only other scenario, you don't do as I say, you don't answer my questions and I shoot the both of you, you don't live to another day. Pursue the better of the choice of options, dong ma?"

---

dong ma? – understand?; Comprehend?

He was always different from everyone else. He acted different, from a different family, thought different and was different. All his life in his subconscious, he has realized that he was very much alone because there was no one else quite like him. But at that time, when the thoughts occurred to him and even today when they came into his head, he hadn't paid much attention to these random thoughts that popped into his mind at different times. He hadn't even considered that fact that he was alone because of his differences from other people. He hadn't even thought the fact that he was different from everyone else and even though he stood out, excelled above all others and was determined to a point of it all being a flaw, he always believed that he was superior to everyone else and thought that this was why he was different from everyone else. Most people believed that he was raised this way. To be an iceberg, emotionless and hard person. But he knew better that that, no one knew him better than he knew himself. And when people started to talk about him, he would hear their rumors and just smirk. Because that was all they were, rumors. He knew that if his parents had showered him with love, thought him more than an object, he would have remained exactly where he was now. He would have become an operative and he would have been the selfish bastard that he is today. Problem is, he felt even more pride when he thought of how he is and that he would still be this way regardless on the existence of his parents or not. He felt he was never lonely and never different; he was just Caleb Andrews, just a typical man from Osiris and better than everyone else. He was Caleb Andrews the Operative. He was cold, distant and he was loving it.

And that is particularly what made him the most dangerous.

As the girl stepped forwards, babbling to Mrs. Reynolds (as it was good of him to have selective hearing), the Operative toned out the annoying voice; he was indeed finding her a threat, but not much of one. The girl had been very good at hiding her emotions; she turned her hatred into snide and fear into bravery. But the Operative was trained; did they honestly think that he had not run into this sort of situation before? The snide smile that the teenager wore had equally matched with the Operative's own cruel smile; but, there was no meanings or feelings behind her mock smile, whereas the Operative carried a certain danger that was meant to scare. And he did not fail to notice that she was afraid, although he had trouble pinpointing exactly why she was scared. Most of the time, with children in this situation and age, they are afraid of dying. But this girl held a different essence to her. She was not afraid of dying, but she was afraid of something else. Perhaps it was the fact that Mrs. Reynolds' life was in danger? Or maybe it was something else that was not crossing the Operative's mind. But whatever it was, it did not matter. Again, the Operative was given a task and he was going to finish it, even if it cost him his life. He was not offended when she laughed, but he had to admit she was starting to get on his nerves. But there had been many times before when he'd began to get angry or annoyed, but, as he had learned in the Academy, he was now able to control his feelings and emotions. And so, he buried that annoyance down, carrying a plastered face of an iceberg, showing no differences in his face as she was trying to provoke him.

"I ain't backin' down, she ain't talkin', and you ain't gettin' your answers. So shoot me and get it over with."

The Operative laughed at this. This person has got be the boldest girl he's ever encountered with at her age. She had a very brave sense to her, but one that was also very foolish. Normally bravery was meant as a good trait in people, but that bravery had to be controlled; the person who carried it had to know the best time to gather courage and the best time to drop it. This girl did not know when she should stop. He chuckled for a moment, finding her bravery quite amusing. He found the entire situation quite funny. These people must not appreciate the Alliance, their undeniable rebellion against them was more than enough proof that the Operative needed. There was a moment of silence that was only interrupted with the Operative's laughing until he was finally able to get a hold of his giggles (he had never moved his guns from the two of them though) before he straightened himself, took a deep breath and with a smile still upon his face said, "Have it your way then, little one." There was a moment's hesitance between his next move however. As if he was regarding whether or not he was really going to do it. But the Operative had no halters between shooting someone, but what made him pause was to take the best action. At first he was going to shoot to kill them both. But as said before, that was just plain stupid. This was the only connection to Malcolm Reynolds; if he killed the both of them he'd be left back to square one without anything to take a lead on. No, he had to take a different approach here. Besides the threat of killing, torture was probably the next best thing that the Operative found quite useful. Making them hurt (or die slowly) until they told him what he wanted to know proved to be quite effective in past situations. It was obvious that these two were thinking of each other before themselves, and since the girl probably didn't know what he wanted, Mrs. Reynolds had to be the target here. But he'd have to immobilize the girl first, keep her from doing anything stupid that he'd really have to kill her. He lowered one of his guns to aim of the leg as he moved to other one to the girl's shoulder. Then he fired both of them at the same time, completely forgetting the gun that she threw to the ground.

"Well that ain't hardly nothing."

"You can't fool me, child. I am an Alliance Operative, I am far more skilled in areas that you can't even imagine. Do not make me go to standards to killing you or Mrs. Reynolds when it is not necessary." It was almost as if his laughing fit hadn't actually happened. It was completely gone from his mind now as he spoke very coldly to the girl. It was true, he was no longer in the mood for her games and if Mrs. Reynolds did not cooperate, he would just keep firing until she gave the answers he was looking for. First at the other leg, then the arms and the other shoulder, and so forth. Then, if things got really out of hand and he had finally lost his patience (it was a very good thing he was a very patient man), he'd shoot for the stomach and not shoot anymore, as the stomach was a fatal wound if not treated in certain amount of time. Except, he wouldn't be firing at the elderly woman, instead he'd be aiming one of his guns toward the child and the other one firmly on the elder. The girl was fun to play with (he spent more time on her than on Mrs. Reynolds), she had a strong will and a strong pride and he would love to tear her down, but she was also arrogant and stupid, which was her main weakness. She did not know the best time to stop and if he hadn't done the job of finishing her off, then someone else would, regardless by an Alliance official or not. Oh well, it really was her own fault. There was no sympathy coming from the Operative at the pitiful girl as she struggled against her pain in order to keep standing. It was foolish to continue standing up against someone when the opposing force was obviously the superior one. But he had to admire her strength and her courage, not many of her age would have the guts to stand up against an Alliance operative, he had to give her that much to stand for.

"You're goin' about this all wrong y’know, if you'd've walked on in here and been nice about it. You mighta gone and had a chance with us. But now you ain't gettin' nothing, 'specially when we ain't got nothin' to give."

"What you say is a trap. I offer money, you resent. I do what it is right, you do what is wrong. I do what is wrong, you do what is right. I give politeness, you offend. I am in no mood of your games..." his voice trailed for a moment, though the reason as to why was not known before he continued with a satisfied nod, "You really do have a lot of nerve. I admire that kind of courage, girl, despite how stupid it is. And that is the only reason why I have not finished you off just yet. That, and you are my one-way ticket into getting Mrs. Reynolds here to talk. And judging from her expression, I say she's just about ready to. Anything to keep her child from getting hurt..." he gave a significant glance towards Mrs. Reynolds's direction before the girl spoke again to catch his attention,

"Look, I gone got no idea why you're here but this ain't the way I wanted my day goin'. But I'd 'preciate it if you'd be leavin' 'bout now."

"I can tell you now, that curt tone is not going to make me leave," he said matter-of-factly, smiling slightly as he watched her struggle not to let the Operative know of her pain. How pitiful, did she really think that she'd stand a chance against the Operative? Did she think that she'd actually win against the Operative? Perhaps she thought that the Operative was only skilled in infantry related areas. Perhaps she thought he was only handy for gun firing or so. If she did think that, she was sorely mistaken. The Operative was trained in more areas than one. He was trained in being able to know people's emotions, being able to hide his own. And with the knowledge of the emotions that he's figure out, he could use it to make the situation in his favor. Right now, he was only toying with the girl, he had not shown her his true power. And she did not deserve to see just how manipulative he could be, nor did she deserve for him to waste any more of his skills on her. The pitiful look he gave her was mocking and snide, nonetheless it showed of no sympathy, as the corners of his mouth slightly curled up in a smile, but his eyes showed of the pity on the girl. It was here that he'd remembered the gun that she threw to the ground. He hadn't really forgotten it, just didn't think it was necessary to regard, but as she was slowly sinking to the floor (the Operative could see how her body writhed in protest to her standing) he realized that she was closer to the firing arm that he was.

There was a smirk, then he briskly walked beside the gun and kicked towards the opposite direction of the two women, sending it at least twenty feet away from either of them. There was no way that the two of them would be able to have such bold requests or bold moves. His own weapons had never left the two women as he kept them pointed precisely at the spot between their eyes. He was mildly surprised how the girl was able to slightly dodge the leg shot that he gave her. But he wasn't as surprised, for (though he wouldn't admit) he'd given her the chance to anticipate his next move when he moved the gun towards the leg. He wasn't as fast as he could have been. He followed up the kicking with a heavy sigh as he returned back to his spot before and aimed his gun at the same particular spot on the girl's leg and fired. He then aimed for the second leg (the girl's right) and was just about to pull the trigger when Mrs. Reynolds frantic voice spoke out.

"Okay! Okay. I'll tell ya what ya want ta know. Just...please, don't hurt Kaimana no more."

The Operative smiled triumphantly at the elderly woman, putting one of his guns away, but keeping the other one firmly locked on the girl, Kaimana as the Operative had just now realized. He raised his eyebrows, gave a firm nod towards the elderly woman as well as a smile (one that did not show snide, surprisingly) and then said, "Glad you could see it my way."

((I think we're getting no where with how we are now (we could go on like this for hundreds of posts), so I'm going to make Mrs. Reynolds cave in. If you had something you wanted to do in mind though, I can edit easily. Hope this is good for you.))

The girl was down and landlocked, he was going to get what he needed and it hadn't taken even an hour to crack these people. Or, Mrs. Reynolds for that fact. From the way the girl looked shocked at Mrs. Reynolds, he'd have figured that she would much rather have stood and fought some more. But then, that gunshot wound (or gunshot wounds, he should say) was hurting pretty well; it hurt her enough to finally bring her to the floor. He gave her a smile, but it was hard to understand the expression of the curve on his lips, then turned to Mrs. Reynolds, who was shooting glances from the Operative to Kaimana and back.

"Where is your son?" He asked in a very cold and chilling voice. Once he'd turn back to Mrs. Reynolds, the smile vanished and his hard and distant countenance, it would have made anyone looking shiver. And right on cue, he saw Mrs. Reynolds slightly move as a shiver snaked down her spine, hoping that the Operative wasn't able to notice the slight shake she had made. She took a step carefully away from where she stood towards the table and anticipated for the Operative to turn his guns on her. He considered doing so, as he knew that he no longer needed the threat pointed at the girl, she was down and she was going to stay down. A moments of consideration and he put one of his guns away in his pocket, securing it tightly to make sure it wouldn't fall out. He lowered the second, not pointing it at either of them, put kept in plain sight as he moved towards the table as well. Both of the adults sat down at precisely the same time, Mrs. Reynolds casting worried glances at the girl on the floor, who writhed in pain and gestured towards the younger girl. "Ya ain't gonna just leave 'er the—"

"Answer my question, Mrs. Reynolds," he interrupted her, not even casting a quick glance to look at the girl. He was focused now and seemed to forget that Kaimana was actually there."I told ya. I ain't knowin' where he is," the elder woman insisted, shifting her eyes away from his. She was lying, he narrowed his eyes. He recalled something of that strategy a long time, a technique that enabled him to see if someone was lying to him.

"You are lying!" someone bellowed into his face, causing him to wince a little. It was only a little, but it was still a wince and he quickly straightened himself as fast as he could. But he knew that his commander had seen it, and he knew he'd be punished for it.

"I am not lying, sir." He cast his eyes away to look at someone running by.

"Look at me in the face and tell me the truth," the other man threatened coldly to him.

"I don't know what happened to Jana Davies, sir." Again, he darted his eyes to the bird's shadow that flew over his commander's face.

The commander in front of him narrowed his eyes until they were just slits, pouted his face and stood back. For a minute, he thought that he'd get away with what he'd done. He couldn't tell the higher officer about what had really happened to Jana Davies. It was only an accident. The commander turned his heel and called for another commander and said, "He goes in the box for a week. Nothing but food and water." The commander caught the expression of Caleb, the shocked and terror rising in his face, there was a satisfied chuckle that sent the ague to crawl up his back spine. Caleb was quite aware of his terror and fear when he had heard his commanders words, he jumped forward frantically landing at his commander's feet, "No! Sir! Please, don't! I'm telling th—" he begged at the man as two security guards snatched him from behind, binding his arms with handcuffs and scooting him off the opposite direction. But the attempt was futile, his commander alienated him...but there was a smile that spread across the older man's face, almost as if he had his own latent agenda. He shrieked loudly, causing passersby to look over. There was a cast of pity on them; they knew where he was going. But they did nothing as they continued to walk by.

"No! Sir! Please!"

The commander who had sentenced him, looked back as Caleb was being taken away. Another smirk was spread across his face and Caleb could still feel his terror from that particular smile. He watched in shock, amazement and somewhat ignominiously as his view of his commander shrunk in the distance. The last thing he heard before disappearing behind a corner was the chilling voice of the commander."Piece of advice, trainee. Don't move anything when you tell a lie, particularly the eyes. You want them to believe you? You look them straight in the eye."

"You are lying," he said, his voice having the same facial expression his commander had. "The truth now, old woman. Where is Malcolm Reynolds?" He shifted his gun so that it glinted in the overhead light and flashed particularly on Mrs. Reynolds first then blinded towards the direction of the girl, Kaimana, on the floor. "I have a busy schedule, I would appreciate your honesty right now."

The woman glanced at his hand where the gun was held then back at the brown eyes of the Operative, sending a very small and short cast of a glance at the girl. It was obvious that she was debating which action to choose. She could just rather die and not tell the Operative anything, but then that would mean she'd get Kaimana, who's only nineteen and just begun the cycle of life, killed as well. On the other hand, she'd tell the Operative what she knew but then betray her only son and hand him over to the Operative. It was a lose-lose situation for Mrs. Reynolds, but a win-lose situation for the Operative. He was in no mood to kill today (he only took pleasure in taking the girl down, but that was enough of fooling around) he wanted the answers and he wanted to be on his merry. He wanted out of this dumpy planet, he wanted out of the old memories flashing. "Tell me."

((Alright, this is a wrap up, I'm making Caleb leave here. Soon, Mal should be coming, we might have to NPC him here, but it'll work out. Hope we get to RP with each other again soon, Emily.))

Mrs. Reynold's panicked expression and frantic voice had it pinned to the Operative that he was getting what he wanted and he was getting it soon. Good, the faster he was out of this hellhole, the better. He waited patiently for her to start speaking and he noticed that she continued to cast worried glances towards the girl on the ground. At this point, the Operative finally took notice that she was still in the room and found that she had lost consciousness. To admit, he was surprised it'd taken this long to put her down, and even more awed at the fact that she'd most likely be up again, but that didn't matter. He reverted his attention back to Mrs. Reynolds, whose own gaze was fixed at the crumpled girl, and cleared his throat, catching her attention when she snapped her head back at his face.

"I-I, uh..." she stumbled, uncertainly. The Operative narrowed his eyes, but not out of suspicion as most people interpreted it, but morely out of slight confusion. The elderly woman was bumbling over her words, she continued to scratch her head; if the Operative had known better, he was almost admitting that she really didn't know anything. But that wasn't an option, she would give him a lead, something to go on by. He would make sure that she did. He will not tolerate failure and he made sure that Mrs. Reynolds understood that statement through his eyes.

He slightly tapped his long, pale-white, and skilful fingers on the desk impatiently as he waited for her to gather her thoughts and think on what she was going to tell him. He acutely aware that everything she was about to tell him may have been a lie, but he was always good at telling lies from truth. It was one of the things that prevented him from falling in the web of lies that his parents had often spun, not only for him, but also for pretty much anyone within hearing shot, including themselves. They had kept him from falling into anyone's lies.

"I...I, uh, ain't, um...seen Mal in, in over...uh...at least three years time. Last time...was a couple o' years after the, uh...the war," she cleared her throat as the Operative stared at her intently, meaning to intimidate her into telling him the truth instead of him prying it out of her. From the way she spoke, the way she moved, the Operative was sure she was speaking no lies at this moment. "He didn't, um...didn' stay fer long. Bu-but I gets to ask him what he's doin'...y'know, how he gets with work an' all. He told me that he often set down at Persephone, got many jobs from someone on that rock. Someone named...uh,..." she took a moment to gather her thoughts and remember the name, "Uh...Bad...Badger! Yeah, Badger. Often did business with him..." another pause as the Operative processed this information, "Why are you asking this? You enter our home uninvited and you demand answers to your questions. What'd he do to deserve an operative?"

She was so sincere that the Operative had to reply, "Not in my question to ask. I just do the job. I get the man, that's all I'm here for." He gave a smile, and Mrs. Reynolds would have said it was actually friendly if she'd known better. He stood up abruptly, looking at the girl and saying, "I didn't hit any vitals. She should be all right. Take her to see a doctor, I can't address wounds I am responsible for," the warmness that he held in his voice was almost undetectable, but Mrs. Reynolds had found her eyes wide at the thought that occurred in her head. But as soon as it had come, it had flashed away and a smile of coldness and danger entered his face again. She found herself frightened by his presence again as he started to walk away, pocketing his guns and saying, curtly, "Thank you for your information. Do not cross my path again, or I am obligated to kill you. Make sure to tell that to Kaimana. Good day."

And with that, he was gone within a flash. Almost as if he weren't here and Mrs. Reynolds would have believed it was all a dream if she hadn't turned her gaze towards the floor and saw the girl on the floor, still unconscious. She quickly went to the girl's side and began to gently mend the bullet wounds that the girl carried, killing herself with the thought that they'd penetrated Kaimana because she didn’t tell the Operative what she wanted. When she finished, she stood up, looking down at the girl worriedly then went to the cortex and punched in some numbers, waiting for someone to answer. She'd have to call Mal and tell her to come here. She'd have to put Kaimana somewhere safe. Only place that was now was Serenity.

Odd, how the name seems exact opposite of the near future.

The Operative had exited the house, climbed aboard the ship that he'd rented from the Alliance and took off, almost as if he hadn't been there in the first place. His face was twisted in utter coldness and lunacy. He was getting the chills simply from the fact that he'd gained another path into finding Mr. Malcolm Reynolds. He was that much closer to the man. Malcolm Reynolds, captain of Serenity.

Odd, how the name seems exact opposite of the near future.

((okay, I just left it there, you can add anything you want afterwards. RP with you later!))