Match, point... game

Chapter fourteen:
Separation and business

Sorry this is kinda late! But bajesus was this chapter hard to write. Well the first half… I usually am sadistic to my characters and revel in their suffering but this time it was kinda sad and… touched me. I think I might be getting a cold. Ha-ha.

The docking station came into view faster than either would have liked. They had broken through the atmosphere just a few hours ago and had gone skimming along the planets waters, waiting for a good station in which to stop and to begin docking procedures. Pletiam was an okay planet on the surface, out in space you could almost not tell just what kind of things were king on the crust of it and just who called it home. You could almost forget what kind of system you were in.

The waters were a pristine green, brimming with kelp gardens on the bottom of the sea floors, and the ground was splattered with forests of broad leaf trees. Skies that would have been a deep amber, however, were clouded over in deep smog from the pollution of continual habitation, and the animals of this planet had long mutated from their original form into something other than. Something that most people didn’t want to see for fear of losing some form of appetite or meal. The planet had once been beautiful, had been part of the Alliance once upon a time, had been one of the original forms in the systems making up the power force that now ran the majority of known space, but now it merely served as a reminder as to just what overexpansion of an empire could do and just how corrupt it could lead people to become. Seas that would have been teeming with fish and wild life was unsafe to even touch and the soil was scorched and fallow making it almost impossible to farm from the grounds.

Once you broke atmosphere you were reminded sharply of just how much the planet had declined since its once just and righteous heyday. Merc and pirate ships hung in the air, either tethered or anchored, docked or ported, hanging like behemoths in the sky as massive shadows of ominous danger. Spires of industry rose and scrapped against the smog filtered amber, seeking the pierce into the once pure heavens and once more taste the sweet innocents this place had once housed. Cities dotted the entire surface, even on the waters where there were floating colonies of trading and commerce. The only problem with that was most of the time the trading was fellow mortal lives or illegal weapons and drugs. Free enterprise was all well and good, but slavery was something George just couldn’t get behind. She would rather die than to be resorted to such a stature.

Monoria was the largest city on the surface of Pletiam, and as with all metropolis’ it had a high crime rate and a low desirability. Which was why the mercenaries loved this place so much and why much of the crime syndicates based their empires out of this rat’s nest, no one would bother them. The Alliance had once tried to help this planet and its system it orbited, had tried and failed, and had thus given up. It had been abandoned and allowed to fester into the sink hole that it was now all in hopes that the disease would settle there and wouldn’t spread. Like that would happen. Monoria had been a mining town once, back when the planet was just being settled, and so there were still active coring stations around the sites of the city, each pumping out plumes of jet black smoke to further contaminate the planet in which they were stationed.

It was a wonder that this heap of rock and stone was still kicking. George glanced out the side of the head’s windows, crossing her arms under her chest. Riddick’s handling of the merc ship, or rather, his ship, was smooth and flawless as he once more circled the dock, scanning the local area and listening in intently to the other vessels around him through their commsystem. News had indeed spread of their escape since their time in cryo sleep, but luckily no one thought that they would be stupid enough to come here, of all places. The Merc mother ship, where most of them were stationed in their free time, much less their home bases. George could still feel Riddick’s distaste of her wanting to be dropped off here.

For once this system had only one sun. It was a blue star, stationed now high in noon position, shinning the sapphire rays down upon the defiled soil and souls beneath. She had not seen a system with only one star in some time now, thanks to the dark of the Slam, her time on Tramius, and then wandering aimlessly among space before even that. It was refreshing to not be completely blinded by the overpowering brightness that came with such mass amounts of light. Then again, she side glanced at Riddick, it must be even worse for him on planets such as those within the Tramius. Just what was he doing in such a place? One did not weaken oneself on purpose.

The ship smoothly turned onto its side, skimming through the air with practiced ease as it once more circled the port, waiting for its signal to come into a docking station. The sounds of flips being switched on and off, of the system checks and analysis, and the feel of the pressurizes pushing cooled, natural air through the vents of the ship invaded the senses. This was it, they were but a mere hour, tops, from them separating. Then why the hell did it feel like this wasn’t the end? Why the fuck did George feel like this wasn’t right on some level… she had allowed herself foolishly to grow used to something, to become somewhat attached. It felt wrong to leave. That was all the more reason to flee while she could. She didn’t know if it was Riddick himself, or the kind of life he could offer her, one free of boredom of any kind, but she couldn’t allow this thought of being happy, of having someone to lean on finally, go unpunished. Alone was where she belonged.

It was all she could handle.

She had already started to distance herself during the last day and a half. She remembered it even still, having his body almost constantly above hers, behind her, his hands on her skin and his teeth digging into whatever area he could reach, but she’d pushed aside the pleasure and started to stabilize. Though the last four days had been, in all reality, great and mind blowing and had implanted a firm soreness between her legs from the almost nonstop action, she had other things to think about. Other things to do. And besides, even if they did for some insane reason stay together what would they do? Sex a partnership did not make. Not a stable and productive one. They would be poison to each other, she could just tell… any relationship formed would be incredibly toxic and would eventually lead to the downfall of them both. Better to cut tail now than to have harm come to her; her own safety was paramount, his came secondary if at all.

“Not that it’s any of my business, Georgie, but who ya here to kill?” Riddick’s voice broke through the tense, expectant silence that was only shattered by the machines whirring and the beeping of the system stats running across the screens. George didn’t bother to look at him, instead opting to stare down at the other docked ships and at the water that was stirring under the ships powerful thrusters.

“You’re right, it isn’t your business,” she said icily, her tone brisk and clear. There wouldn’t be any talk of what she did from here on out. She had let it slip that she was a gun for hire, just like the man next to her, but other than that she would not reveal her resources and her clients. They may have been intimate but not nearly close enough to be that giving with her hard earned information. The usual suspicion that came with her career was rearing its head and the distrust that flooded from her very soul was once more rising. It was time to go back to being utterly isolated, no more relying on someone else to save her ass if things got horribly bad.

George was used to living life like that. She was grateful for finally having to be on her own once more.

Riddick gave a short grunt beside her, voicing his displeasure only mildly at her answer, before returning to maintenance checks and running the life support pre-landing requirements. He was typing something in on the side computer, muttering to the device, and when a small ding sounded George knew that all systems were functioning properly and that the ship was in perfect order. As perfect as a merc ship, of all vessels, could be. Merc’s had some nice space crafts though, for the most part, for they had to be top of the line in order to keep up with people like Riddick and herself. Finding ways to make catching a mark more effective and efficient were what many of them were about, all about the payday. If supping out their craft and making sure it was in top shape was the cost then a good majority of the damnable creatures would do it. She supposed she should thank the dead mercenaries on Brigitus for having such a nice boat, after all she wouldn’t be here without them and their top grade fuel cells, but to admit thanks to filth such as them made her stomach churn. Instead, George merely decided that the tense silence from her actually chastising the bald man next to her, this lion of a male that could snap her in half without a second thought, was better than thinking she wouldn’t be here without the assistance of some unwitting victims.

“Just don’t get your ass killed. I don’t want to think that I busted you out of there for no reason,” Riddick grumbled.

George span on him, her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened in an incredulous gape. She was about to start telling him off in a deathly quiet tone that told of her inner storm of wanting to not only kill him but to stuff his dick down his throat and replace his eyeballs with his balls, when a crackling came over the commsystem. Riddick switched a series of red buttons before entering the pass code, finally enabling the others to speak to him through the system.

“Roger that; Hunterforce niner fox delta, you have clearance for landing. You’re docking station is 12b, should a mechanic meet you there for repairs to your vessel?” the voice of a man came tearing through the speakers ungracefully, cracking and breaking through the wiring. George winced when there was the sound of back feed, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

Riddick glanced at the system checks and noted each and every stat. The only thing that needed any kind of repair was the shielding on one of the wings and that would only take a few hours at best, but he could do that himself. There was no reason to get another person involved, another person that could recognize them. So instead her turned to the woman accompanying him, the red headed fire house that had kept him interested far longer than he thought possible and noted the dark look in her brown eyes. She didn’t see any reason to involve anyone else as well, and from the way that her teeth were bared in a slight growl like motion he smirked despite himself. It would have a negative affect on not just him but her as well should anyone spot them on this planet. The chances of them getting caught and sent to another slam were high in those instances. So instead he shifted in his chair and looped around again, the ship on its side and gliding through the air with easy grace.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m just here to restock a few things, drop off a passenger or two, and then I’ll be off. Got a hunt to get to on Ichon,” Riddick stated in that deep voice. The radio went silent for a few minutes before a small ringing noise issued forth followed by a triumphant sounding bell, informing both of the passengers that the dock had been cleared. It was now or never.

Upon receiving the information on the docks location the male convict punched in the coding. Once finished he took his hands off of the controls and watched in satisfaction as his work caused the ship to steer itself, turning once more on its side sharply before smoothing out and zipping towards the other side of the towering, cork screw like structure. The other ships zipped by their sight, each of them either in the process of docking or leaving, all filled brimming undoubtedly with enemies after criminal’s such as themselves hides. It was like the old adage said, ‘the safest place to hide from the enemy is from within’, where they wouldn’t suspect you would ever go. Metal glinting in the sunshine of the singular star danced within their vision and the city beneath was a hustle and bustle of commerce of questionable practices.

Riddick glanced at George from the corner of his goggles, his eyebrows knitting. He still did not understand her reason for coming here. Sure, if she wanted to kill a merc that had wronged her then this was the place to do it, but she was at a great risk of being discovered or of someone just randomly deciding that she looked like an easy target and would get slaved off. There were far too many risks for coming to Pletiam. He noticed just how she was refusing to look at him and could feel the iciness and distance that had been erected almost overnight by the female killer. He had noted it the second she had started the process, right in the middle of him plowing her into the kitchen’s counter during what was supposed to be a break, her body bent over it and gripping into the wall with a tenacity he had come to admire. She had become less vocal and at one point had looked somewhat bored and was deep in thought. He’d been pissed at the time and had forced her mind back to what was happening by smacking her hard across the rear and forcing a surprised and indignant gasp to come from her lips. It had worked but only for around an hour and then she had started all over again.

In a way he was proud that she was the one to start it, and in another he was angry with himself for not thinking it as well. He had been willing to just enjoy their four days and deal with the parting when it happened; after all he was good at just walking away from someone. But her technique allowed for recovery time before the initial shock to begin with. He cursed his sometimes simple mind.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m good at surviving,” George suddenly snapped him from his thoughts and he swiveled his captains chair to where he was facing her directly.
Turning in her own chair she drew a wicked smile to her lips and flashed a dagger from her hip and twirled it with ease in her fingers. Riddick couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow skeptically. “Really now, Georgina?” he asked mockingly, alluding that she wouldn’t’ have survived the prison without his assistance. As he had expected insult flared within those burning brown eyes and she gave him a spat, her shoulders tensing considerably.

But then she returned to the smug girl she really was. “Remember, Riddick, I got on just fine before you. You just happened to complicate things, baldy, and made my job that much harder back there. I’ve lived for this long and I’ll be damned if I stop living on a rock such as this,” she whispered before turning back to staring down at the city with malice in her gaze.

Riddick let the subject drop but dissected her statement all the same. It was true, she had lived to be twenty five on her own, had grown into an accomplished bounty hunter and hit man all on her own as well, so then what was it to him if she went off on her own now? She’d been alone for so long she probably didn’t know how to deal with human interaction anymore, just like him. The only reason they had gotten along was because they were alike. They were similar, too similar, too wild, and too animalistic for normal people to even begin to understand them.

He wondered how long, however, someone on George’s path could live. Then again to wonder that would be to ponder how much longer he had in this universe. It was a subject he didn’t like to dwell on too often because then the saw all the people he had ever cared about in their moments of death. It was fucked up how he had been witness to each and every one of their deaths, so fucked up that it made his head spin sometimes. Then again, it made him into who he was today. Now if he could only figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Some would say that it was a bad thing he was the way he was, after all he was a murderer and an over all bad man… come to think of it he couldn’t think of anyone besides mercs after his head that would say what he did was a good thing.

Riddick had been lost in thought that he almost didn’t register the fact that they were pulling up to their gate and that their dock was slowly extending from the large metal spiral. It moved silently through the air as it stretched out and began to emit a small light to the guiding senses of the ship on the wings, signaling just where it was, while the opening upon this level slowly slid open. He watched with narrowed silver eyes then glanced over to where the other vessels were attached to this dock, watching intently to see for any sudden movements. It was unusual that he would have gotten away so scotch clean with this ship, so much so that he was starting to get suspicious that something else was going on here. Usually when he hijacked a merc ship the others were alerted through a system aboard the captured liner and he had enemies on his ass after a few weeks. This one had actually managed to get him to this scum hole with no incidents. If all went well he would have to abandon it only within half a year and then he would just take another one. Stealing was a beautiful thing when it served him.

With a lurch the ship came to a haul. Clicking and whirling filled the air and the sound of metal gears sliding together in unison, locking the ship into place, jarred Riddick from any and all thoughts he was immersed in. Hissing and a sharp blast of air into the head told them that the life-support had been abandoned and that the ship was now filtering in chilled outer air of the actual planets atmosphere. Riddick’s silver eyes glared at the opened up gate, his hands now resting idly on the controls while a frown was creasing at the edge of his lips. This was it…

The gaping maw of the docking station was ominous, standing there like some massive beast ready to eat those who stepped within. In a way it was because once George stepped foot into the station she would disappear into the crowds and would be lost to him for the rest of his natural life. It was dark and foreboding, a deep, pressing feeling pressing on his chest. He was confused by this ache suddenly coming in as he listened to the red head shift and unlatch herself from the seat and start to get up with a stiff stretch. He wasn’t good with emotions, he suppressed them and ignored them, they always got in the way and got good, innocent people killed or warped just from being near him, so the mere fact that he was actually feeling some remorse or sorrow over the fellow convict leaving was confusing and irritating to no end. Riddick was getting angered just at the uncomfortable feeling sitting on his chest, and was getting cantankerous at the woman that was causing it all.

“Well, time to get my pilfered goods,” Georgina muttered before leaving him in the head. Her footsteps echoed hard in the silence of the ship, little could break the dead weight of the haul of this thing and the outside world didn’t seem to exist. He was fairly sure this thing was sound proof… He listened as the door to their room, his room, slid open with a hiss and her entering it with heavy steps. Her scent was unreadable, something he didn’t think was possible, but he chalked it up to his own confusion and the fact that there were many emotions in her own that were swirling and fighting for dominion that there wasn’t any one particular one that stood out.

Riddick decided it wasn’t worth it to keep straining his ears but instead stood and hung from the seal of the cockpit, cocking his head to the side. He glanced over to where the cargo hold would open and let her out, and then himself in a few hours after doing post docking checks, and found himself hating that door. But it had to be done. No use hating a door when it was something that had to happen and really was the best thing for both of them, if she stayed then his chances of dying increased greatly and her chances of dying were almost completely full. Not to mention he wasn’t meant to be with people at all. Still, it had been… nice… while it lasted.

A few minutes later while he still brooded George had just finished packing and was glancing around the room with a tight, controlled look on her features. The room was small, like all rooms on any ship were, but now that her things or rather the things of the killed mercenary woman, no longer there but instead packed away in a durable little duffle no larger than the length of her thigh the place looked towering and nearly frightening. This was Riddick’s room now, she was intruding, this was his space. She wasn’t welcome here anymore. Glancing over her shoulder she spotted the small mark she’d made with a dagger when they’d gotten into a fight just a few days ago, some stupid thing when he had insulted her in that same mocking way he always did… the rest of the memory was merely of him pinning her down to the wall and having his way with her, where her dagger had made a long cut line in the paint. She wondered how long she would remember Riddick for. She tended to push painful things such as goodbye away and completely forget.

Painful? Goodbyes are never painful, hell her own brothers had been more aggravating and seething than hurtful. This one felt more final than that one had though, this one spoke of the resolution that was behind it. Oh well. Picking up the black duffle by the strong handle she threw it over her shoulder and glanced herself over in the small mirror next to her, staring at her cleaned tank top and cargo’s, making sure that her daggers were hidden and that she didn’t look anything other than another merc or bounty hunter.
Blending in was essential more than ever now. Turning she walked from the metal encased room and out into the long passenger hold, gripping the handle of her bag fiercely. The second she stepped out her entire body was washed in that same cold fear that came no matter what when fixed with the eyes of the one and only Richard B. Riddick. Her head turned slowly and she spotted him leaned up against the door frame, staring at her through those damn goggles that in this moment she found an undying hatred for. Was it that hard to ask for a simple sight of his silver eyes once more before she left? Probably; after all it was bright in here and it would hurt his orbs. Still, it would have been nice.

Riddick gave her a slight snarl like look, showing his fangs at her, before turning and walking quietly back into the head. The seat groaned under his bulk of muscle when he plopped down and started to press various buttons and switches, watching the gauges and outright ignoring her. George was slightly injured at that but had not expected anything different. After all, the best way to leave someone was to do it cold turkey. Still, as she wandered down the merc ship hold and was now before the massive doors of the cargo she couldn’t help but think about just how much had happened in the past seven months and how much would after this. Now that she thought on it though, Riddick was only a small point of her life, a small little blip that would hardly mean anything in the long run.

Still, she turned and gave him a pensive look, putting her hand on the control of the haul. Pressing the code in it growled angrily, letting out a series of steaming hisses, before the metal lowered and let in the soft light of the hanger on the other side. Lowering slowly, far slower than she had seen it ever done before, she still stared at the man that had yet to even falter in his movements, unthawed by the abrupt breach. George bit her lower lip, debating, before stating very calmly and loud enough to where she knew the sensitive ears of the fellow killer could hear her:

“Guess this is farewell, Riddick.”

Riddick didn’t stop his typing into the computer but his mind had gone almost blank. He grunted to himself before thumbing over his response, taking his sweet time and choosing his final words very carefully. “If you’re leaving, then get going. Remember our deal, Georgina Collins.” That did it. Never before had he called her by her full name without it being mocking or taunting, this time it was just her name, just her, and he felt something restrict strangely at the sound of it.

A laugh lifted from George’s ribs before she shook her head, a sneer on her lips while her dark brown eyes flared towards the back of his bald head. “Yea, whatever. Have a nice life,” she called out before descending down the ramp and into the waiting hanger filled with boxes and slicks of oil from repair jobs. She didn’t look back or even think of maybe going back onto the ship for something she might have forgotten. It was time to get the fuck out of dodge anyway, she had overstayed her welcome and it was time to do what she did best. What they both did best besides killing.

They both left without a second thought, determined to put the other passed them. After all, a relationship of any kind is just a mere flash in the mere flicker of a human life. Why piss and moan about it? Right…?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It had been a week. A full fucking week since she had been dropped off here and she had yet to do her work that she had been adamant on completing and doing it soon. Though it made sense and she could tell where her short comings had fallen into her from then to here it was still hard to swallow that she had, as of yet, spilled that stool pigeons blood. Oh he would get what was coming to him. But as of yet she was still trying to mildly adjust to the life pace that Pletiam forced upon you from the second you entered into the stale and dank planet. She had almost turned around and gone straight back up to the ship upon setting foot into the city.

Then again it was probably because Georgina Collins was not known for integrating into normal society whatsoever and that the closest friend she had had in recent memory was a fellow killer. It also probably didn’t help that she had killed two mercs since she had landed and had to lay low for a few days until the heat died down in her cramped little room of a hostel. That had eaten quite a bit of her time… They had been asking for it though, recognizing her and everything. She had no choice, they had to die, now whether or not she had to slit their throats and then cut off a few body parts had yet to be seen but she liked to think it was a flair that was missing from most normal kills. Killing could be mundane if allowed to transgress that far and after doing it for so long to so many it got dull and lost its luster, you had to add a few spices here and there in order to make it more interesting. And that was where she was now. Adding spice.

George slipped along a rooftop as quietly as she could, bringing her new jacket close around her body while the surprisingly chill Pletiam night crashed around her. It seeped into her pores and to her bones, making them ache and shift uncomfortably beneath her skin, but she ignored it. Instead she walked across the darkened roofs with easy steps until she reached the end of one. Here, she crouched down on the edge, staring down with magnifying military grade goggles-thanks to her dead merc that gave her the current clothing she wore-with interest that was bar none. Though she had yet to succeed in killing Trey she had done much research in her time isolated from the rest of the planet and it was in that recon that she would find just the right time and place to kill him. She liked to think that when you dug into someone hard enough without physical interaction, delved into their thoughts and daily lives, what they did, how much they spent, who they spent their time with, and just what their vices were, then you were far stronger going into something than knowing nothing. Knowledge really was power in her line of work and it could mean the difference between life and death of her or her victim. Tail someone long enough and you got whatever information you ever needed to know about them. She never went into a job where she had not done the adequate number of hours doing coverage.

The familiar press of the sheath of her daggers were present, always, against her hip and the cool metal of a newly stolen gun rested on the small of her back under her jacket. Her mouth quirked for a moment as she thought of all the things that would be befitting a snitch such as Trey but returned to seriousness when met with the sight below on the streets of Pletiam. This planet was absolutely swarming with mercs twenty four seven, you couldn’t take a damn step without running into one and risking the chance of getting recognized. It was making her job harder, but in the moments such as this, as a herd of them passed under her, undoubtedly heading back to their mother ship to go after another mark, she thanked her lucky stars she was no where near as renowned or prized as Riddick himself.

No, she was just Georgina Collins, gun for hire, killer of men and women alike, and an overall fucked up individual. There was nothing of notoriety about her besides her murder sheet that ran all the way back to her first when she had been in her tender teenage years. Oh how times had changed and how she had morphed into something unrecognizable since her days upon her home star of Artemis. She slunk back slightly when one of the mercs glanced up to the roof, perhaps having sensed her prying eyes, and watched as that particular one strayed from his pack. He stared up at the edging, at the shadows that encased it in the deep darkness of a single star system, trying to spot what he could feel that was up there.

Suddenly sensing his disconnection from his companions he started and ran down the cobbled street, back towards safety. And away from the killer that sat so nonchalantly among the stone and mortar above. George watched him go with a twinge of disappointment but then let it go, it would get in her way to have to kill a merc this night when she had set this moment aside for one special person. There would be plenty of mercs in the future, plenty that would be after her hide to put back into a Slam for cold hard creds, there was no reason to get dagger happy. So instead George sat down fully on the ledge, dangling her legs over the side and watching the people below with a callous gaze. Wind caressed her form from this high up, a good three stories of run down apartments, and made her jacket flutter very lightly from the heavy fabric it was made of. She was prepared to wait for as long as it took.

Trey Worthington, she had learned, was a very scheduled man. Surprising since she had always pegged him as erratic and thoughtless. You could never know another, she had learned that the hard way again with this man… and she would not allow herself to be so fooled ever. That and he had a strange last name that she didn’t like, Worthington, like hell he was worthy of anything in her book. But she was bitter, who knew what the man really did? Perhaps this was how he made his living was turning in criminals after working with them, through a sloppy third party, and getting a portion of their bounty to himself. He started his day at the same time, did the same routine, went everywhere at the right time, and came back to conduct his business that she had learned would have been lucrative if it weren’t for one thing. The man had a drug problem.

And currently he was at his midnight appointment at a local club, getting his fix and satisfying the addiction that gripped his mind and body. Morphine could be a deadly strong drug, there was no guarantee that when you used it you wouldn’t become dependent upon it, in fact its use had been restricted to critically injured patients. She could feel the pulsing and throbbing music from all the way up here and could see the smoke from the machines billowing out from under the crack in the buildings door. It was small she would suppose, if she didn’t know that the rest of the club lay under ground, and the building that was on the surface was run down. The walls were spotted with rust and the windows were filmy and covered over, showing only occasional flashes of light and moving bodies to aid George in passing the time. Soon she got into the rhythm that it was going in per song, every three seconds a red light would go off, then after that one second a green, then blue two seconds after that, and then white, then to start all over again. She had found out at a young age that she didn’t particularly care for clubs… it just wasn’t her style.

You went to places such as this to be wild, to let loose and allow yourself to escape from the uniformity and harshness of your day to day life. George was already wild, she was already untamed, she didn’t need to go to a bar or a club to let loose when she could just as easily just go around and beat someone up or get a book and read for a few hours. Though places such as this could be great resources if used correctly. More often than not the bartenders were underpaid and all too willing to talk about customers or employers if you paid them with a big enough credit bill. She got a lot of good information from bartenders.

George, tired of merely sitting, stood and crossed her arms under her chest, waiting patiently. A quick glance to the small watch situated upon her wrist, that doubled as a detonator and a system check for her own body, told her from the laminating glow that it was now squarely at twelve forty six. Meaning that, even while under the drugs effects and being the timely creature that Trey was, he would soon be stumbling out of Amorphous, it was in moments like this that she praised herself for being so thorough in her research. She turned from the ledge when the door opened, confident in who was stepping out of the smoke hazed glorified orgy, and began to make her way towards the fire escape, a sneer tugging on her lips. Her mind was in the mind set of the predator that lived under her skin, roaring and hissing for the hunt, and now it would finally be quenched. She had been waiting for this moment for months and she would not be denied.

Down the groaning metal steps, her hands running over the jagged surfaces, she walked playing the scene she had set up at a special location in her mind. There would be no escape. She had yet to decide his ultimate fate, whether she would slice his throat, gut him, or leave him in that hell hole to bleed to death and slip into the state known as shock, cold and rigid, and into deaths arms. She would figure it out when her revenge was cut inch by inch from his flesh… Turning she jumped over the railing and landed with a small thud in the back of a dingy alleyway that smelled of stale alcohol, vomit, and blood. There were pools of an unknown, green shinning liquid littered around the ground, and trash was everywhere the eye could see in this area, but that didn’t matter. She took in her surroundings, yes, like she always did, but this time her eyes fell upon the approaching figure that was stumbling and lurching its way towards the way she was hidden within.

George stepped back into a corner of the joined buildings, melting into the darkness and using her still dark sensitive eyes to watch with intense measures as the figure of Trey came blundering into the small area blindly. He had not changed since last they met, and she supposed that was a good thing for her. He still had that dingy, dirty blond hair that fell around his ears in strangely bent curls, glassy green eyes, and wore tattered and soiled clothing. Any and all profit he could have been making from bounties, making him a wealthy man, had gone into his addiction and had turned him into little more than a
severely intelligent bum. The fates had a sense of humor that was wicked.

Her gaze trained upon the man named Trey. The familiar rush that came with the hunt ran through her, her blood sped up through her veins, rushing in her ears in a great swirl, her pulse pounded in her temples and throat… Nothing else existed in her vision, the sides became blurred out to blackness and grey and there was only the part of the alley where Trey was, where her prey was. Ears strained against the relative quiet of this area of town, listening for the scraping of his boots against the soiled ground. George licked her lips in anticipation, a nervous habit she found she had inherited from her father, as she dragged her daggers out silently from their sheaths. Adrenaline was reaching maddening levels within her chest, her body jumpy and ready for movement, any movement, and she had to bit her tongue to resist it. Tangy, coppery blood filled her mouth, adding to the haze of bloodlust that was clouding her brain, and when the figure of her prey was finally fully concealed from the world within the dark dankness of the alleyway she slipped along in the shadows and trailed after him, watching and waiting like a feral cat.

He was so cocky. So damn cocky… that’s one of the things she remembered most about him and had caused the severe amount of anger within her to reside while in the confines of Brigitus. The way that when he was sober his mouth had formed into a sneer that roped to all of his features, how his green eyes had glinted with some unknown obscene knowledge that she would have killed to know; he had set her up... She had fallen for it hook line and sinker too. That’s what aggravated her the most. She had had a gut feeling about the guy but no, she was desperate, thought that her old research on the guy was enough, that he was clean and that she was just being paranoid. She would never make the mistake of not listening to her instinct again. Now it was merely a chance to tie up loose ends that had brought her here.

She could smell the smoke and alcohol rolling off of his form from where she was now walking behind him. Though her footsteps in her heavy boots were far from silent like Riddick’s had always somehow been, and the fact that the noise reverberated through the deathly still area, the poor man before her was so intoxicated that he didn’t comprehend that he might be being stalked. A fatal flaw. Laughing to herself she came up behind him with a swagger, holding her glinting and wicked blades in her fingers firmly. How should she do it? To get his attention, that moment that would play through her head for forever. Though he would be just another name to add to her list he was special… unique… she had not been betrayed on that kind of scale in some time. She wanted his reaction to ripple through her being, force the thrill of what she was doing to pound into her body and make her shudder at the perfection of it all, she wanted to always remember his face, his eyes, his flesh draining of color upon seeing the one he thought dead or in a Slam. His final hours would be all too glorious, and she would never forget them, but she liked to make an impact… liked to see the fear, the agony, the shock, and most of all, the fucking regret!

Choice made George merely twirled a dagger, not heeding the whining that the metal made as it sliced through the air effortlessly, before bringing it up behind Trey in an arch. The sound, the fantastic sound of knife searing like butter through the fabric of his coat and shirt, that ripping; the sight of the edges, cut clean and sure, letting out threads from the poorly made garment; and then the lovely splash of red from a deep gash that accompanied such a wound, the skin having to take a few seconds to catch up to what had just happened… His gasp ripped through the air, pain filled and tortured, shocked at the sudden blinding agony, before he whipped around, his face torn into a terrified snarl all the while deep red ran from his back in a gushing flow. She would have to tend to that when he passed out in a few seconds… she didn’t want him dead quite yet. It was too good for him to die in a filthy place like this.

“Long time no see,” Georgina murmured silkily, her brown eyes burning with hatred and ire. The reaction was instant the second that Trey’s eyes fully fell upon her.
Shuffling around to view her fully he gaped, staring wide eyed in disbelief. Just as she thought his face became pallid and pasty, sweat starting to bead on his brow from not only the pain that must be coursing through his body but also the shear fear of seeing her there. Standing before him, the woman he had sent to hell, the woman that he had thought he condemned to death, staring at him, her form imposing and her arms now crossed over her chest. The dagger that had done the harm to his now throbbing back was still dripping crimson and when his eyes flickered back to her face she could almost smell the terror in his form. So this is what Riddick had always described to her… that prickling mint like smell that came from a human when they were about to piss their pants.

Trey continued to gape like a fish, his lips actually starting to turn blue from the lack of breathing. She took in every detail of this scene and took it to memory, to her heart of hearts, where it would remain for all time. His green eyes showed nothing of the cocky arrogance they once reeked of, no, now they were nothing more than pooling puddles of dull emeralds. Emotions flashed through them faster than the murderer could count, but one kept coming into his now mouthing constancy, lament, sweet, sweet lament. George opened her arms for his reaction, allowing his inspection, allowing him a final moment to take her in before he passed out.

“You… how, how are you…??” his voice came out as a garbled mess, his mind clearly in too much pain and doped up on too much morphine to fully form any kind of coherent speech. Which was obvious from the fact that he hadn’t screamed yet; though that was good. If he came along quietly there was less chance of her getting caught with this one.

George laughed out right at him, a barking, garish one that tore through the dingy alleyway. Trey winced at her booming at him before she returned to utter seriousness, that same twisted smile pulling at her lips. Her eyes were cold and he could sense his death in just being near her, his heart pounding in his ears and throat painfully, rushing and thrumming, while his instincts told him to run far, far away. However it was like his feet were nailed to the ground and the blood lose was starting to get to him. Lightheaded he tried again, “You’re supposed to be…”

“What? Dead!?” George suddenly shouted at him and was before him, frighteningly close in his weakened state. Even in a normal mind frame and top form he wasn’t a match for her, they had established this a long time ago, but even still it was like ice water was running through his veins. George relished in watching his terror and horror at seeing the her again before she waved. Within two seconds later he fell to the floor in a crumpled mess from blood and pain, leaving the red head convict to stare down at his prone body with a sneer.

Phase one complete… she thought smugly. She bent down and linked his arm around her neck, heaving him from the ground before putting her daggers back onto their sheaths. She hefted his body away from the blood pool and from the crime scene only to be taken to an isolated nowhere, where he would be treated to her intimate knowledge of the human body and its pressure system.