Thankless

You never quite get used to being shot at. As a soldier, and a field operative, I'd faced quite a few rounds directed my way. Since coming out the Rim and settling on Hale's Moon, I'd probably faced more gunfire per annum than I ever had when I was on active duty. Between Reavers, Raiders, Alliance Loyalists, and warbots, we'd seen more flying lead than in a rad-shielding foundry.

Usually, the flying lead isn't in my office. Not that I was entirely surprised to have a visitor come in, act peaceful, then draw a piece on me. Thing was, unlike the old office in Town Hall, there was only one door in or out of my new office and the side and back walls were made out of the same material they made spaceship viewports out of. Once I triggered the locks, the only way out was for someone on the outside who had the codes, that'd be Genni, Gallagher, Lily, and the captain of our Militia, to unlock it from outside, or for me to manually do it myself. Not something I was likely to do under duress.

While this wasn't the first time someone's waltzed in and pointed a gun at me, it was the first time someone's done it saying they were delivering a message. Odd thing about it is I only know one "Sabine" and don't recall there being any bad blood between us. Subject to interpretation, of course. Might be someone planning to shoot me as a message to her, but that made not a whit of sense either. The man had the air of someone who know their way around a firearm, but not that of a trained assassin. If he had been, he'd never have selected my office and certainly wouldn't have let himself get distracted enough to let me draw my sidearm.

Being curious about why Sabine would send someone to shoot me, I tried to get him to back down. Fact was, there was no way back out of the office through the locked door and I'd already tagged the silent alarm to Genni. She'd have either the Sheriff's department, or the Militia, or both, here shortly. If she didn't open the door herself and shoot the man in the back with a scattergun or that old .45 she was so fond of.

Guess he either didn't care about getting out alive, or thought he was somehow going to shoot me and still get out of a locked room. Either way, he hadn't counted on me being able to move as fast as I can, especially when someone's got a gun pointed at me. His round missed. Mine didn't. My cushion, though, would never be the same.

Neither would his chest.

We got him to the Infirmary as fast as we could, but the prognosis is dicey. Not sure whether he's going to wake up or not, or live if he does. Be a shame if he dies too, seeing as I'm at a loss to why he was really there. Officially, the Sheriff's office would investigate the incident. Gallagher had some strings he could pull to find out what was really going on, as could I through my other contacts.

Just another reminder how thankless this job can be sometimes. Any of them, really. Public, private, or otherwise.

Message at gunpoint

You underestimate me

Lesson learned but once