Match, point... game

Chapter twenty one:
The dance


George gasped when she was slammed into a wall by the much stronger killer, her arms held tightly behind her back and his body pressing hard against her. She could feel his damp breath against her neck and despite the overflowing rage going through her that same intimate connection that had happened so long ago now made a shudder rain through her spine and down to her very toes. Though any and all stimulation, intended or not on his part, was quickly quailed by the rage that his very presence was bringing. Snarling she whipped her head back and smashed it into his nose with a loud crack, the man behind her grunting and weakening his grip enough for her to wrench free.

Pulling out of his grasp she turned and wheeled a kick soundly to the side of his head, snapping it to the side while her eyes narrowed viciously.

Riddick swore under his breath as he turned his head, rolling it to the side and making his neck issue a loud and disgusting popping noise. He could taste the metallic tang of blood within his mouth and his vision had gone slightly blurry with that surprisingly powerful thrust kick. He set his gaze back onto George who was just out of arms reach, her fists up protectively and her entire body hard and rigid. Prepared for a fight… it seemed that nothing had changed about the girl at all. The bald male ran his tongue over his incisors real quick, feeling all of his teeth for any loose spots, and to her luck found none out of place or damaged. Though they had made the promise that they would never see each other again, and if they did that they basically did not know each other and were free to wail on each other should the need arise, he couldn’t help the next words that came from his mouth.

“Listen, George, just fucking move and I won’t beat the shit out of you for that,” he growled low and menacingly.

George didn’t back off as he started towards her, his entire body emanating that darkness and power that had come off even in the haul of the merc ship. She did, however, take a precautionary sliding step back, her chest freezing up and her heart starting to hammer dangerously in her ears. It had been a while since she had even faced someone like Riddick, not since one of her hunts right after the break out had she encountered anyone even close, but facing off against him again was like going up against a mountain. And all at once that crushing intimidation and verging fear came washing over her at what she had done, having that mixed with her hatred towards the man for supposedly putting up a bounty on her head and it was a powerful mixture that was making her body swim and her muscles ache with tension. When he had come almost upon her, reaching out to push her aside, George snarled again and pushed his arm aside and thrust her fist into the core of his stomach right at his belly button.

Riddick grunted and winced for only a second, taking the pain into the back of his brain, before reaching down and taking crushing hold of her wrist. When George let out a small noise, his fingers twisting her around and moving fluidly out of the way, he pushed her down onto the ground, spinning her around from the fulcrum point of the injured joint. Dust fluttered around the red heads body as she snorted, arching her back in pain from slamming down.

She however, brought her stomach bunching in harshly and kicked up hard, smacking Riddick under the chin before he could catch her knee. His head went snapping back again and though his grip once more loosened she couldn’t get free this time and when he came back into control of his own body he tightened his hold on the woman and caused her to cry out.

Sliding Georgina across the floor of the alleyway he slammed her into the wall, listening to her skull crack against the hard brick wall. He reached down and grasped the woman by her neck, hoisting her up as she gagged and clawed at his arm in near frantic fury, her mouth opening and closing for quickly restricting air. “Should’ve taken me up my offer Georgie girl… I ain’t gonna go easy on ya,” he practically purred.

“You can shove your offer up your ass hole Riddick,” George strained out. Her vision was starting to dot in and out with black and grey spots. Her lungs were over compensating and she could tell by her continued gasping noises that she was hyperventilating to try to make up for the lack of air. She couldn’t control her body, she knew that she had to take deep calm breaths but her mind was working in over time and the terror of ever fighting him the first time was seizing her body again. She was being overwhelmed. Shit, she couldn’t lose here. If she passed out then they would catch up to her again!

Riddick watched as a suddenly sickening sneer came over George’s features smugly, a look he didn’t like one bit. Just as he was cocking an interested eyebrow she suddenly beamed him right between the legs hard as she could with her shin, using every single muscle in her body for power. Stars filled Riddick’s gaze as he gasped and sunk down despite himself, reaching down with one hand to grasp the wounded area while in his stunned shock she snapped his hold from her and ducked out from under him.

George swept her leg under his knees and made him slam against the wall in turn, his head smashing against the rough surface as he had made hers. She now cursed his lack of hair for if he had any she would have started to smash his face in but sadly all she could was kick him in the spine and then jump back as he started to come back up to a standing, his muscles rippling with each movement. She bounded up and down, holding her defensive posture while eyeing him warily. She could clearly see the shinning of metal on his hips, just as he could see her own, so then why had he not drawn out his shiv’s? They were his favorite weapon… his trademark, like the dagger and plasma riffle were to hers. This didn’t make any sense. However George didn’t have time to hash out just why Riddick had not pulled out his big guns yet before he was walking towards her with that god damn same silent way, his fingers cracking as they pulled into cruel looking fists.

She glanced over her shoulder, realizing that they had switched places during their fight and could by all means now just go their own separate ways, again. But that flashing on Riddick’s goggles was foreboding and ominous it was clear that he intended for there to be a winner and a loser to this fight. She had a feeling, like always, that she was going to be the loser.

Riddick didn’t let that glance behind her go unnoticed. He spotted her turning apprehensively upon realizing that she was now facing the direction she had come and he could hear the wheels turning and plotting her escape. Poor George must have forgotten in their time apart just how much stronger he was than her… But now that he had the time to study her again, even as she was drawing her weapons out of her holsters and they glittered threateningly in the double suns setting rays, he noted that she had changed somewhat since he had last seen her and yet not at all. She gave off the distinct air of someone that had experienced a great deal more since the threes they were separated, and she even looked a little older with dark circles starting to form under those dull brown eyes.

He wasn’t allowed another second of observation to take in all of the changes or faults that had been given in the time allotted for George ran at him with her daggers at the ready. Quickly ducking back as she took a wild swing at him, the metal ringing in the air and causing a slight gust of wind to move the hairs on his arms, Riddick had only another moment to flatten against a wall and roll before she tried to stab him. With a spinning motion his shiv’s were drawn and it had elevated from a mere fist fight to the more deadly of versions, one that could leave either one of them bloody and dead in this back alleyway. The coming shouts of either of their pursers weren’t of importance, though it did occur to him that the interaction between that seemed to be taking an eternity of his time had probably only been seconds thus far; all that mattered was beating the other person into the ground and getting on their ways respectively.

They came together again in a flurry of metal and grunting. Flesh hitting flesh, the ringing of metal slamming into metal, the sparks flying and the teeth gnashing from either ends of the blows. Blood splashed down onto the ground form cuts and scrapes, adding to the already wounded, and when George managed to spin and knee him in the gut while bringing her blade down on his neck she almost got him there; there on the back of the head where the main arteries to the brain were located… he would be dead before he hit the ground. Or he would have been had he not when he doubled over her knee, grabbed the woman before him around the waist and thrown her to the ground with him in what could only be called a struggling wrestling match of flying limbs, shiv’s skidding to the ground and daggers now lying useless and aside.

Riddick once more had his hands on George’s throat after about three flips and a few rather good punches once more to his head; the only part that wasn’t a solid wall of rock hard muscle. Holding her down into the dirt and watching as she snarled, both of their bodies equally dusted in that same red clay, and the way the filth of her undoubted captivity clung to her, he had to admit that it looked a lot like the old days. And for a moment he was sentimental. In that moment he was weak.

George moved her arms from clawing at his to between them and used the brunt of her forearms and elbows to smack into his inner elbows hard. This caused the joints to buckle without his consent and she was once more landing a hard right hook right on his nose. No one, not even Riddick, would get in her way of freedom. She was just clambering free of his grasp from under his hulking form when he grabbed her ankle while still holding his nose, blood now drizzling from the wound and his goggles blazing dangerously and deathly at her. His grip was like fucking iron fortified steel and when she tried to kick him off he grabbed the other ankle, letting his injured face go and dragging her back under him, his lips pulling back in a feral and aggravated snarl.

“Gimme one good reason why I shouldn’t smash that face of yours in, girl,” he snapped bitterly, not liking that she had gotten in a good few too many blows; it didn’t matter to him that the hit ratio was one to five because a hit was a hit. A single hit could be enough to knock someone down and make them weak and vulnerable, make them susceptible to death.

George snarled at him, watching the fist he had pulled back and the way that the muscles in his arms moved and tensed, corded with absolute strength, threatened her very existence. It didn’t take a genius to know where he was aiming… her eyes, that’s where the bone was the thinnest and the easier of targets from his position atop of her. Hell that’s where she would hit if she were in his situation. Suddenly a gun shot came into the air, louder than before, much louder, almost right next to them, and she watched his head shoot in that direction. Though she could have taken that time to knee him in her favorite of male tender zones she merely laid there under him, her eyes hard and cold while her mind whirled with a way to get out of this not only a live but without chains being slapped on her and carted away to a slam.

Shifting her shoulders back into the clay that was under her, dried and compact from years of people tramping upon it, she smirked when he returned his powerful though shielded gaze upon her. She could feel his eyes, boring into her very mind and seeming to read it like an open book. “Because from the sounds of it my guys are getting closer, and so are yours… If you want to get out of here fast enough Riddick I suggest you get off of me and we both high tail it out of here before they get to either of us.”

A neat W formed between his creasing brows and she could practically see the emotions play over his face; that is had it been he was a normal man. But bearing in mind that it was Riddick and that same old muscle twitch under the left side of his mouth showed his consideration and clenching teeth… She prayed that her appeal to his logical side would help her in this situation. After all, her experience with Riddick taught her that when he was thrown into a kind of animalistic rage, like he was in now, then your only hope was to get to his sense of self preservation.

Silence slipped in between them once more, as it had time and time again, and she watched him with a roaring pulse in her ears. The tension was thick and choking, sliding against their bodies and holding them strong against the slimy hands of anxiety. After moments of terse thought Riddick’s fist lowered and her merely sat back off of the prone woman, his hand running over the bottom half of his face in annoyance. “This ain’t over,” he growled lowly, his voice rumbling in the air like a clash of thunder.

He had just gotten off of her and was dusting himself free of the film of terra cotta colored dust when her mercs came barreling around the corner. They had their guns already pointed on the staggering girl who had just gotten onto her knees and was about to stand when they laid their eyes upon Riddick. He watched in satisfaction as their eyes widened and jaws dropped, staring at him like he was some kind of mythical beast. That they thought he didn’t really exist. Which was good for it gave him some quick time to study just who had managed to put old Georgie girl into such a state of grime and bruising. One was tall and had a thick, heavy frame akin to Riddick’s own, with short brown, muddy hair, and green eyes that were blazing of the girls death for escaping and killing his men. The other was much shorter than his leader, stocky too with a large belly and balding all save for the tuft of hair that ran in a ring around his skull… his face had a decidedly piggish look to it with a pushed in nose and bulging eyes. He didn’t know how on earth she had managed to fall into such pathetic hands.

That was until he spotted just what kind of weapons they were sporting. Grade A top of the line shit… and when he chanced a glance over to where she had frozen on the spot, spitting on the ground and glaring in the direction of her former captors he knew that was the reason she had gone down. She knew as well as anyone else in their field just what those kinds of weapons could do to a convict. The tickling of her exhaling a rather harsh word towards her captors hit his ears and he couldn’t help the small smirk that pulled at the edges of his lips. He supposed no one really ever changed in the long run…

George’s heart sunk down to the pit of her stomach when Jeremy and his final lackey came around that corner. She felt cold all over suddenly at the prospect of yet again being put into chains, though thought that now she was royally fucked over rested heavily on her shoulders. Then something struck her… if these guys were working for the man before her then why were they staring at him in such shock and awe? If they were working for Riddick there would be no excuse for them to be staring at him like some kind of ghost. Shit! She wrinkled her nose in momentary distaste of herself for having acted so brashly as to attack the other convict out of blind and unfounded rage. She made herself a fool…

Or maybe this was all a clever ruse… She wasn’t willing just yet to let go of the possibility that for some reason Riddick wanted her out of the way.

“Well, well, look who we finally caught up to…” Jeremy puffed out, his face red and sweaty from running after George. The filthy woman busted with pride at seeing him so exhausted and also with several harsh bruises forming all over his face and arms from when he had tried to restrain her just an hour before. Oh yes, they had nearly caught her again, but she was not going to go down without a fight. She would make sure they got that through their thick skulls.

George came the rest of the way up to a stiff standing, her lips parted and panting while her body rang with pain from her scuffle with Riddick. Now there was no way that she could take these guys on by herself, not in her state, not in her condition of near starvation and dehydration. She needed to get to the safe house, she needed rest, and most importantly, she needed new clothing and a fucking shower. Her gaze slid over to Riddick who was regarding her, she could feel it, through his goggles with a cock of his head towards her. It never ceased to amaze her just how easily he could observe something, analyze it, dissect it, and discover the root of it within seconds. She both loathed and admired it. Rolling her shoulders the woman tried to appear arrogant and not dog shit tired like she was.

“Yeah, well… I wanted to see your smiling face again Jeremy…” she hissed out, twirling her daggers to emphasis her readiness. In reality she was hoping that she was wrong about them and Riddick being paired up. If that was the case then she was as good as caught, she couldn’t run much longer and he was faster and stronger than she was. But she was counting on them being intimidated by the wall of muscle before her, the man that had killed more mercs than she could ever count; hopefully they would just run off like dogs.

“You got your wish. Though now, oh now we have a much bigger fish in our sights…”

Riddick let out a big booming laugh at that, the kind that hit you in the chest as hard as one of his punches and made you stagger back in shock. Very rarely had she ever known the man to laugh, and usually when he did it meant bad things for those that he found amusing. Because of what he found amusing. She slid a step back as Riddick held out his arms, his body seeming to move as one huge being of death. “Me? It would take a lot more than just the two of you fuckers to take me out,” the bald man growled out and George felt a shudder run up her spine.

She could tell that now he was focused. Riddick when he was up against someone was intent practically only on them, upon the coming fight and finding his enemies weakness. That meant that she had a perfect opening to get away… from both the killer and the mercs. Oh but he would hate her for it. Why the hell should she care? The inner war waged on as the hulking bald man took a few steps towards the raised guns, and even from here she could tell he wore a smirk that belied his seriousness of the situation. These jokers weren’t leaving this alleyway alive if he could help it.

“He went this way!” a sudden yell from down the turn of the alleyway, the way that Riddick had originated from, came crashing through the tense stand off. George whipped her head around, her hands gripping into her daggers with a hiss. Just as around the corner came barreling the forms of easily ten necromongers after the bald man’s hide George glanced towards him with a scowl, her eyes narrowed on his goggled gaze.

“Don’t you dare Red,” he ground.

George sneered. With a flash she slammed into passed the stunned mercs, the swearing Riddick, and was running off down the dirt road and away from the fight that was all too much for her. She was a coward, she wasn’t afraid to admit it. If she knew she couldn’t win there was no point in staying for a fight just to get your ass handed to you. She could hear Riddick screaming at her at nearly the top of his lungs, calling her all the names under the sun as she turned hard around a corner and was out of sight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

George winced as she pressed alcohol soaked cotton into the many wounds she had received during her daring escape. The sting of the cleanser against the invaded wound made her nostrils flare but she tried to ignore it and focus on the other things occupying her mind at the moment. So many things to think about… so many things to wonder and scheme and prepare for that she scarcely knew where to begin. Freedom was only the first step when escaping from mercs, the next three always proved to be the hardest. Namely keeping her new found release, killing those that were pursuing her, and getting off of this rock and to another system before another ship was deployed after her… and add to that there was something new thrown into the mixture. Namely one Richard B. Riddick had come onto the scene once more like a hurricane, slamming down what she had thought was real and true and bringing with him only doubt and suspicion.

Dipping the small, red tinged spawn of Satan himself back into the alcohol she brought the ball back up onto the injury near her forearm, a cut that she had received while fighting with the bald man that had brought too many complications. Here, in the darkness of the hostel’s room, she could almost forget about just what had started this whole mess. Looking for her brother and what involvement he had in the murder of a religious holy man. It was a small enough room she found, merely a bed and a night stand table, and it was a dingy place at that. With walls a sickly, stained, yellow with paint so old that it was starting to peel from the walls in thick curling strands and revealing the wood paneling underneath, and blinds covering the windows that were tattered and an almost charred black from all of the dust and crumbling from their own timeless experiences, it never ceased to astound her how run down safe houses for criminals were. She wasn’t expecting anything fancy, hell she wasn’t even expecting a television or any form of electronics in her room other than the switch to turn on the light and the control panel for the shower, but this was fucking ridiculous even for her. But it would do…

Immediately after having ditched her fans as well as an undoubtedly enraged Riddick she had made her way to this hotel. She had stayed here once before, back when it was slightly newer and the management actually cared about the fact that they were being paid for their rooms; she knew this place was as sound as a rock against the Alliance and any and all mercs. These kinds of places were running scarce with the peace now entering into the systems, which was all the worse for George. Having set down all of her cleaning supplies after arriving in her room, scaring off the timid bar hop with a snarl and jolting her body at him like some kind of beast she had ripped her tank top off and immediately headed to the shower. Her wounds needed to be washed before she could clean them out, not to mention she was covered in her own wastes and blood, if anyone in the world needed a bathe it was her.

And now here she sat, with tongs in hand and applying dabs of cotton soaked in the demon’s spit onto her cuts and abrasions, wondering just what next to do. She had come to this planet in the first place for a reason. This was the place where she and her contact were set up to meet whenever something like what happened before she got jumped happened, he was to wait in the safe house for no longer than six months after he got there. Any longer and he’d been ordered to leave because she would most likely not be coming back. But she couldn’t risk going there with the mercs swarming around out there and now she had found out that there were necromongers on the planet surface as well and she was fucked. She had no way of getting in contact with the kid… she had to wait them out and who knew how long that would take.

Watching the white clash against her shivering and injured skin George bit her lower lip as a twinge ran up her arm and into her shoulder to pool tensely into her neck. Luckily for her none of the wounds were terribly deep, they didn’t do any damage worthy of stitches in her book and they hadn’t done any tendon damage. She wouldn’t need the cell replication machine she had ‘borrowed’ for her last ship. Which was excellent because then she would have to actually go to a hospital for the nearest one and that just was not a fucking option. Turning and throwing the cotton ball into the growing number of its like in a small bowl she grabbed a hold of the gauze wrappings near by and bit into the very edge. Grimacing she began to tightly wrap her entire arm from shoulder to wrist, feeling the course cheap material scrap against the more jagged of the flesh and pull it even further open. The alcohol was still burning from contact with her skin and that same disturbingly cold sensation that it met when clashing with the air that was stale in the room by the time that she had gotten down to her elbow.

There was no point in reopening the wound on her shoulder, the one that had healed up horridly and was now little more than a gigantic scab. The only thing that would come from doing anything to that was an even deeper and larger scar and blood loss, lots of it. Her best bet was to leave the damn thing alone…

George chopped the cotton wrapping material stoutly when it had finally encompassed her entire arm and relished in the joy of being able to spit out the fluffiness that now invaded under her tongue and between her teeth. Sometimes it really did suck being so isolated. It would be so much easier tending to wounds if someone else was here… Smacking herself upside the head for the minute thought, snarling at herself in her momentary stupidity, she reminded herself just why she traveled unaccompanied. Caring for another person would only slow her down. She would have to constantly worry about their safety, assure their living in the current undertaking that she was going through, and tend to their injuries as well. Partners in her line of work were not a good idea and often they died far before their time. It was better off to be solitary. Better for everyone…

Sighing George glanced her work over with a wrinkled nose. It would be nice to at some point not have her arms riddled with injuries. The only times she was ever fully recovered from anything was right out of cryo sleep and only because she had been given months, maybe years, to recover. Flexing her fingers in thought she watched the skin on her digits pull and bunch, a marvel of muscle and stretching flesh. The human body was an amazing thing… and yet so frail, so fragile… so many weaknesses. You could die any number of ways, really the possibilities were endless; she just happened to be fluent in how to do it. That’s what she told herself whenever she went to sleep some nights. That it was just what she did.

She didn’t have any choice.

‘Bull shit, you have plenty of choices,’ a voice whispered coldly in the back of her head. The red head swatted at the air, as if the tinkling in her ear was some kind of bug and not her conscience, but when it chuckled in her mind she knew it was useless. So instead she sunk down and put her forehead into the palm of her hand, closing her eyes and letting the dark of the space behind her lids embrace her. Dark, so dark, like herself.

‘You could have done any number of things… you took the easy way out. You’re a coward.’

“Shut up!” George hissed and slammed her free fist down on the table, causing the bowls to rattle and the small pile of cotton to topple and roll away in misshapen little trails. She knew she was a coward. She already knew that she had taken the easy way out. There had been plenty of options but that was for hindsight, at the time it was the only thing open to her. Someone of her standing had almost no chance in New Spain… she had been given a loaded deck against herself. Just picturing her life before she had become what she was, the days leading up to the poster, the weeks of contemplation and living in squalor while trying desperately to not only support herself but Noah as well… it had been hell. But would he still be with her if she hadn’t chosen what she had?

Snapping at herself to stop thinking about it she stood, flinging her chair back in disgust at her mind process. Listening to it clatter against the ground she ran a hand through her drying hair, catching on snares and hating the sudden silence that existed within the hostel.

“Doesn’t matter now. There’s no going back, nothing can change what I’ve fucking done, there are no choices now but survival.”

You can’t change the past… so why obsess over it? That’s what she kept asking herself but it kept coming to bite her in the ass anyway. Maybe she was the kind of person that just couldn’t let go.

The last thought left a bitter taste in Georgina’s mouth as she turned and slunk over to the bed, her brown eyes simmering with ire. Forcing her mind elsewhere she came to the acceptance of the new topic that her brain had decided in the last week had been the default topic. Richard B. Riddick; and not only that he might be involved in all of this on some level but also that he was on world with her. She had thought they would never see each other again and was all too willing to let it stay that way. He seemed to bring out the worst in her whenever she was pissed off, she remembered the slam and just how violent she had become in that place… though she had been at her best fight wise she had also been more keen to fight than usual. They were toxic together.

A poison that for some reason had been so damn good tasting; something like you had when you were a child and were wild about because you had not had it in many years. It was a craving she decided then and there. That was why she was thinking about him. Purely because her body was on edge at the very thought that the hulk of a creature was near her, could still be on the planet, and that something might come of it. She still remembered how his coarse hands had felt against her scars, how his eyes had burned whenever those damn goggles had been lifted off of his spectacular orbs, and how damn hot his mouth had been. It should be a sin for someone to be that dangerous, vile, and yet so very powerfully attractive. But she knew nothing should come of it. This sudden craving at the mere thought of Riddick had to die before anything could be done. If she allowed herself to wander too idly down this path it could be perilous. If she allowed it then she might find herself out there, in the throng of danger and caution of getting caught, all to have some tryst with a man that she had sworn to kick from her life like the plague three years ago.

Their promise still burned in her ears. She had kept to it all right. She had purposefully stayed away from systems where he had been sighted unless absolutely necessary, space was big enough that they should never have to run into each other again. What they had was purely sex, once she was off on Ihram they would never see each other again and there were no expectations; so then her thoughts right now were invading on that sworn word. But just how big of a coincidence was it that he was here? Despite all of her careful planning and avoidance they had come across each other when least expected.

Fucking shit! Georgina plopped down onto the bed, allowing the small scratches and far less serious wounds on her left arm to close up with air and suspicious watch. She still hadn’t found out if Riddick truly was the person that had posted that bounty. She shouldn’t be thinking like this… It was so out of character for her that it was scary. Was it wrong to be attracted to the darkness that he seemed to radiate, wanting it to engulf her and take her down with him? She wouldn’t let it… and with that her eyes drifted closed and finally allowed her exhausted body the chance to catch up on sleep where her rest on the ship had been fitful and horrid.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This whole thing… this whole plan had gone so wrong… It wasn’t supposed to feel and seem like the world was ending and the entire span of one life was crashing down around him. This time he hadn’t meant it. This time it had been a mistake. This time… the pain of regret was knotting devastatingly in his stomach.

Richard B. Riddick was a troubled youth, he would be the first to tell you that he was fucked up and there was really no point in trying to change him; he’d already tried anyway. But he did know that he had formed an attachment, he had made friends, and those friends now were hurting. It had been simple, they were going to rob a new store that had set up over the last few months and was doing good business, take all they could like usual, and then live off of it for a few weeks until they’d hit another joint. It was a good idea. They had been doing this now for years, a solid four year run, they knew what they were doing and had it down to a science. That was… through all of their years not once had they run into someone during their robberies, not once had they had to contend with anyone outside or inside the store. They had become complacent. They had let this fact slip by them and had reveled in their little crime sprees. They, he, had never thought it would have come to this.

It had been any other night in New Germany. The long winter was still clinging to the land with dying breath and though the snow was starting to turn to slush on the ground and the icicles were melting in dripping demise from the tree branches the breeze of spring was billowing upon the air. Deadly quiet and still they had made their common approach, like always, and had entered with their resident brainpan hacking through the lock on the door. It was supposed to go down that they got what they needed, food and cash, but… it hadn’t.

They had been in the process of stuffing their bags with foodstuffs that would last a while as well as several loafs of bread, Specs having shuffled off to try to get into the cash register to obtain the balance within it. Leon was over in a corner, retrieving all of the cans of green beans and beets he could reach, while Riddick was stuffing jerky of all kinds into his own burlap sack. Life hadn’t gotten easier as the chill had started to lessen, if anything over the last six months of doing this shit it had gotten tougher. It seemed the police were starting to catch onto their little operation… he couldn’t count how many times Specs’ house had been raided while they were gone, looking for evidence to connect them all to the robberies. They were lucky they lived with a fucking genius or they would all be in a slam by now, serving out terms that the others fragile minds couldn’t handle.

Wrapping his fingers around yet another case of packaged dried beef he was just tossing it into the confines of his bag when a sound caught his sensitive ears. He had continued to become unique over the past few months, his body bigger, longer, taller, and his senses were becoming so sharp that it was starting to hurt sometimes. Muttering was coming from the back room, a room that was supposed to have been empty at this time of night, and when he stopped moving to listen while clenching his teeth that the others didn’t as well he could start to make out words and phrases. Too late did he catch the click of a loaded gun or the door burst open, too late to save one of their own that is… before the molten metal came shooting out of the barrel of a high grade pistol.

Riddick instantly, out of reflexes he hadn’t known he had, fell down onto his hands and knees away from the line of fire. But he saw it all. Leon had turned, stunned when the door had opened, and was gapping when blood ripped from his chest just to the left of its center. Muscles went flying, a gaping hole formed where his heart had once been, and the crunching slurping noise of breaking bones was making Richard’s stomach churn. The sixteen year old watched in horror as Leo jolted, his eyes widening while blood blossomed from his lips in grotesque crimson bubbles. Red splattered the wall and floor around the exit wound and Riddick couldn’t look away from the scene, mesmerized as his good friend’s quickly dying form slumped down onto its knees.

With a thud Leon’s face was buried in the tiles of the floor and an impossibly large pool of crimson formed beneath him. He could hear the others screaming, the crunch of them running over broken food containers and shoving each other out of the way through the double doors, but he couldn’t move. He just laid there, staring at Leon’s body as his fingers twitched out of dying brain reflexes and the pungent scent of newly spilled feces and life blood intermingled. The bastard that had taken him out was now staring at Riddick, his buddy behind him smirking broadly and stating something that was becoming strangely lost to the youth. All that he could hear now was an odd rushing noise in his ears, his pupils expanding, and everything around him becoming a dark haze besides those before him. The breaking glass sensation was back on the crown on his head and surprisingly the screaming voices were quiet to mere whispers, a single word resounding in his ears with the pounding blood. Revenge… revenge… take it, don’t let them get away with this. Who were they to kill someone so pure, someone so selfless… as Leon? His heart was pounding uncomfortably fast in his throat and something in that moment when the guy was laughing and motioning to his friends body, Riddick’s chocolate eyes momentarily shifting there and then back, snapped.

It was audible in his ears. That ringing that had been gathering in his entire body now broke into lose muscle where they had once been tense, and even the terror at being faced with a gun was lessened in this moment. Nothing else mattered…

That was the night when Richard B. Riddick had made his first kill ever. He had beaten the two guys heads into the ground harshly, until their skulls were little more than shards that shifted around disgustingly in their skin suites like a stress ball. At least that was what the detectives that questioned him the next week claimed… truth be told he couldn’t remember it. It was all awash in his first bloodlust, nothing more than a haze of red clouding over his memories of that night minus that disturbing sight of his best friend with a hole in his chest and red staining every surface of his once proud form.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The necromongers had been easy to lose… then again it hadn’t been hard when they had been ordered by their Lord Marshal to open fire on the mercs that had been advancing on him. During the crossfire he had slipped away, silently as he could, making his way along alleyways and homes and finally down into the sewer systems to be safe that his scent wouldn’t follow him. He had gotten away with little more than scratches and a grazed bullet wounds here and there, nothing major.

But as night fell and he was confident that he had gained his freedom for now Riddick crouched on a rooftop and glared down at the city around him. The moon high in the air and the stars of many other galaxies and systems he could see even if his goggles weren’t plastered to his forehead. Anger was burning in his blood at just how he had gotten into that mess in the first place. It was her fault… he wouldn’t forget her just turning and running away and leaving him to deal with all of those enemies. Not that he could blame her, fact was he would’ve done it too, but that didn’t stop the indignant ire from building up. He could still see the smirk that had formed on her lips when she had seen that window… bitch.

He had assumed. For the first time since he could recall he had assumed something, and even worse it had been that she would have stayed and helped him dispatch those that were following both of them. It was what would have gone down in the Slam. He remembered those fights; of her having his back no matter what. However, he supposed it was out of necessity, out of knowing that he was her ticket out of there and she had no real choice but to follow him and help him out. He had been a fool for those few seconds. Whatever trust, however small, that had been built up between him and Georgie had been either shattered or beaten up to a bloody mess. He would never make that mistake again. That old proverb was right it would seem, assuming makes an ass out of me and out of you.

He had spent the two hours since the sun had gone down tracking down the trail that his little red head had left behind. Sure she had covered it up adequately for if a merc or a necro came after her, but Riddick was the master at this kind of thing. There was no hiding from him. So imagine his surprise when his nose and a few well intimidated civilians and fellow criminals later that he was standing just above the very hostel that he had been on his way to when he’d been caught. Irony never tasted this sweet, nor would revenge. The only question was what to do to her?

She seemed like she had been pretty bad off when they had separated. Her body would be weak and feeble, still trying to patch itself up from the beating she had taken from being captured and from trying to fight him; she would be open game as far as he was concerned. And she had no one to blame but herself for messing with Richard B. Riddick. He should have killed her when he had the chance… he growled low in his throat when he recalled just how many times she had left herself vulnerable to him and how he had looked over it. All because he hadn’t needed to kill her, all because he had formed some form of bond with the woman because she had bedded with him on numerous occasions. He would never make that particular mistake again.

Riddick shifted against the roof, putting his hands to the rough brick edging and glaring down at the twenty foot drop to the other structure. He clicked his teeth in agitation, the chill but humid air of the planet sticking to his skin and making him feel slow and heavy. Sweat that had been shed during his first escape from the necro’s earlier that day was still running down his skin and to his revile he could smell his own stench. This was why he didn’t do good in tropical climates; his bulky body already produced enough heat on its own and add to that the sauna of this night and he was more grouchy than he had been in a long time. It was good for him though that the planet was as much of a night owl as the New York city of earth, even still he could hear people meandering around the streets, drunken and slurred words bellowed and laughed at, the hum of engines, and even the occasional police siren responding undoubtedly to a noise violation. It was a mixed blessing for him. Crowds were easy to hide in but at the same time now that he was gone from his pursers and planned not to be back there if anyone should see him up here that would lead the mercs right to his and Georgie’s door, literally. And even better was the fact that the sounds of scuffling at this time of night were common, no one would bother them.

No one would hear them…

With a small grunt Riddick pushed himself off of the ledge and down to the waiting awning, sliding down the surface with practiced ease. It never failed that when he fell from such a height that his chest would flutter, his eyes would water, and he was filled with an almost fear of the actual landing when he had first jumped off. It didn’t seem that he would be rid of this phobia but he had reigned it in a long time ago, after one incident had nearly gotten his head blown off by a merc. Slipping down the fabric was a way to both slow himself down and to make the jarring landing softer, ensuring that he wasn’t injured that badly from the intense height. And indeed when he was past the edge and his booted feet hit hard against the gravel strewn dirt road beneath he felt the familiar shiver of his bones and back crying out in rebellion against the harsh surface. Landing on mattresses or other soft things was rare so his body would just have to suck it up and keep up with him.

The outside of the inn was before him, all three stories of run down brick that was molding and rotting in the volatile climate around him. Lights flickered here and there from some of the rooms, casting the golden glows through stained and frosted over glass from grime and years of ill cleaning. It was slums like this where his type often were drawn because here they were safe… they were only human after all. Everyone wanted to feel safe if only for a little while. If only she knew that this was the least secure place to hide from him. His silver eyes swept over the façade of the building, discreetly hidden between two much larger apartment buildings and hidden deep within the back alleyways, far away from the main street. Trash littered the street around him, anything from fruit cores or wrappers to other food groups to less sanitary things such as condoms or needles from a hyper. He wrinkled his nose in distaste for a moment before one of the whispers in his mind reminded him that he had grown up in streets, cities, planets like this and much worse; he didn’t have the right to turn up his nose to it when he wasn’t any better at all.

Riddick pulled his massive frame together, rolling his shoulders and listening to the cracks of settling joints before glancing to the unlit windows, their occupants either asleep or gone for the night. Georgina Collins the murderer wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave a light on, at all, she would be the one sitting in the dark looking to her wounds in near pitch if she had to. All to avoid capture, attention, where she would get away blood free: her survival instincts were sharper than he had given her credit for back in the Slam.

He crossed the alley with nothing more than a faint crunch of gravel from the first step before he was at the wooden door, locked and barred with barbaric looking metal deadbolts. He knew this song and dance, he had stayed here after all a few times before. Knocking stoutly on the door he stepped back and waited patiently, counting down the many ways he could extract his revenge from the woman that waited for him within. She had fucked with the wrong person…

George’s eyes shot open, her mind screaming for her to wake up from the deepest sleep she had had since her nightmares had started to resurface. Her brown orbs darted around her living space, her form sprawled out on the bed sans sheets. When nothing met her gaze, not that she could see much in the now inky darkness around her from the midnight hours, she furrowed her brow in confusion as to why she had been so rudely awakened by her own body. The door was not open and the windows were barred shut… and yet she felt like something was wrong here, dead wrong.

She slowly brought herself up to a sitting, her eyes narrowed and her ears straining viciously to try to catch any kind of movement within the room with her. Paranoia now had her blood pumping in pounding rhythm in her ears, rushing so loudly she wondered if she would be able to truly get a hold of any sound that came her way over the cacophony. She reached down to the daggers that were on her hips, putting a reassuring hand on them while her breathing was shallow and quieted to the point where it hurt her chest. She could sense something in here with her, or so she thought, it could just be the years of being on the run and being clinically out of her mind that were finally catching up to her. It wouldn’t be the first time. But this was different than those times she was in a corner all night shouting at the phantoms in her room to come out of hiding.

No, the air almost had a chill to it. There was no altered scent around her, no permissible noises that would have come with another human being rummaging around her room or even just standing somewhere. George let out another puff of breath before slowly drawing her weapons, the metal glittering very dully in the less than helpful lack of light. As soon as they were fully withdrawn however she heard, no felt, the air change and was up off of the bed in a heart beat, stumbling back in shock. The sound of the mattress and the sheets tearing under the ringing of a fellow metal weapon filled her ears and when her eyes managed to focus on where she had been sitting mere moments before all she caught was the hulking outline of a mass of a man.

Her blood ran cold when she spotted the sheen of a weapon, just as her ears had confirmed for her, in both of its hands before it came to a standing, too far away to make out any features on him. George didn’t have another moment to let her still slightly sleep fogged mind to race up to the conclusion that it was him to come and settle their score before she had to yet again dodge a punishing swipe from long and curved weapons. Swearing under her breath the woman ducked and sliced upwards in a desperate attempt to get away, gritting her teeth when all she met with was air.

This so did not look good…

George spluttered when her attempt to yet again get away from a punch was met with a blow to the side by something that felt hard as concrete covered in leather before she was soundly hit in the gut. Stumbling back she coughed hard, trying to regain her wind when she was shoved painfully against the wall of her room, the window shuttering next to her in shock. Her brown eyes focused on the person before her, and though the slits of light from the streets outside showed her little more than combat boots and dark colored cargos she had to move again as they came charging at her like a bull. They kept attacking, forcing her to span the length of the room with her life saving maneuvers, her arms moving around and using them to make her entire body move backwards on legs exhausted with all of her previous fights that day. Terror ran cold in her veins as they both stopped and stood there, the intruder intent on her while she tried to figure out how the fuck he had gotten in before she had woken up.

Georgina twirled her daggers in her fingers thoughtfully. Grunting she stepped forwards, slashing at the figure that had dared come into her hostel room and wake her up from a sound slumber. Forced to bring up a protective guard she stabbed at the person with a snarl, her eyes narrowing and determined to get her footing back into this little scuffle. Going on the offensive she started to attack with near reckless abandon, slashing and slicing at the air, their weapons meeting in a ringing of malice and metal. She remembered the average height of a man and the bulk of this mans shadow and began to plot out his vital organs and weak points in her brain, dodging another attack just barely to escape with a small cut on her side.

They were somewhat evenly matched with hand to hand weapons, with the stranger a little ahead of her and forcing her once in a while to be pushed into the wall and have to scuffle away just as they were going to kill her. She was on the defense far more than she was used to and her head was reeling. George rolled backwards over the bed, managing to get distance, and just as the man had come around the mattress she used it as a ground to send her foot into his jaw with a thud, then brought her fist colliding with his neck and sent him stammering back, gripping onto his jaw and groaning in pain.

Taking advantage of his stunned state George stepped forwards and stabbed at him, lips pulled back in a grotesque snarl as her body thrummed. Her knife didn’t make contact before her forearm was encompassed in a large, gruff hand and being squeezed to the point of pain. The intruder twisted it causing her to grunt in torture, feeling something somewhere tear in her muscles, before she was slammed with her back to the figure, a cold dagger to her throat and lips at her ear. Her breathing stilled and her entire mind froze to a halt, any possible chance she had had of getting away from this situation or of killing the person that had entered her room seemed to drain away like frigid water through her veins. She didn’t dare move for the bite of the weapons edge was cruelly thin and wicked, already causing her skin to shiver as it came ever closer with each pump of her blood and each panted breath.

“Thought you could get away… Georgina…?” a voice, deep and raspy, grumbled into her ear and her back arched despite herself. She was slammed back into place by the twisted arm, her eyes widening and her heart starting to hammer painfully in the confines of her brain. “Not when I looked for so damn long for you,” he snarled spitefully into her ear, saliva splattering against the shell hatefully.

George felt the leather of her other dagger in her free hand but she didn’t even think of moving or doing anything. Not as the knife of the enemy pushed to the side, cutting open the thin epidermis, not fully slicing into the blood depths but enough to make the woman wince at the feeling of tearing flesh. Oh God this was a fucked up way to die… She exhaled sharply from her nostrils before sucking in more oxygen, her wide eyes focused on the ceiling from her head craned as far from the weapon as possible.

“Had such hopes for you,” the thick voice stated somberly, breath ghosting against her neck and making her teeth clench, holding her tongue against the roof of her mouth to stave off her biting remark. She couldn’t afford her own attitude now… it would get her killed faster than a blink of the eye. “Why do criminals have to be so damn hot?” Georgina’s eyes snapped to the side to give her infamous murder glare to the shock of hair as teeth bit into her neck, the knife steadily going deeper into the sensitive skin until a fine trickle of red began to make its way down her neck and into her freshly clean tank top, tainting the dark green fabric with a growing puddle.

Fuck, shit, damn it, all the curse words she knew in ever language she had picked them up in ran through her brain. There was no room for error… not only were the teeth of this guy sharp and digging steadily into the skin but his knife, now resting about two millimeters into her skin, was dangerously close to her carotid artery… However, all thoughts of strategy or getting away without serious damage, if even her life, vanished when his mouth pulled back and his filthy tongue, lithe and cold against her shuddering neck, smoothed its way up the curve of her neck and leaving a sickly chilled trail behind it. Like slime… Something in her snapped and before she could even think about it her chest felt like it had exploded and her vision went black, not red, not even the occasional grey, but her anger took hold of her with searing and tingling fingers and reigned in control.

Slamming her elbow back hard the knife the guy had been holding jerked against her skin, leaving a harsh red line, before he stumbled back. He didn’t move fast enough as one dagger buried into his neck from an awkward angle, deep into his nerves and down between his collarbone and shoulder, severing any and all blood vessels there; she wrenched her arm free from his grasp and span the other around, firmly impaling it into his manhood with a feverous growl. Hot blood, not that of her own that was now running in many small rivets down her neck and chest, ran down her shoulder from the now gaping mouth of the stunned man behind her.

Pulling her weapons out with a thrush she heard his body gurgle before hitting the ground, a spurt of his blood hitting her along the back from the still struggling heart. He fell into the limited light of the windows, the shades pulled up just a bare inch, enough to let in the moonlight to highlight the short brown hair that was now matted with blood and dirt from the long fight. Jeremy laid dying at her feet and when his green eyes flared up at her George merely scoffed and crouched down to his height, her own gaze narrowing critically. Blood was draining from him at an alarming rate and his face, once tan and what would have been attractive had it not been a captor captive situation now pallid and ashen.

“You… bitch…” his lips coughed up blood and it spattered onto her face, smearing under her eye and over her chin and cheek before he staggered from his hands to struggling on the ground. His breath came out in wheezes, little more, and his eyes were wide and uncomprehending. He was supposed to bring that bitch in, she was his ticket to he big time, to the likes of Johns and Tombbs!

George watched in satisfaction when his eyes dimmed and his body went slack against the ground, her mouth turning up once more in that same maniacal way. “I told you I’d kill you…” she whispered before patting him on the head.

She stood and turned, cleaning her daggers on her shirt before he gaze snapped up, her heart once more stopping in her chest. Silver eyes watched her from the corner of the room, right before the bathroom and her world seemed to come crashing down in shock, terror, and an odd sort of excitement. How the hell had he gotten in here!? Had he been there the whole time?? Why hadn’t she seen him when she’d been fighting with the dead merc on her floor!?!

All that became moot when a chuckle lifted into the air, that same booming one that came undeniably from the one and only most wanted killer in the universe. She took a step back but he was on her faster than she could think, his thigh between her legs jarringly and pushing her up against a wall, her arms slammed above her head, and his nose brushing against hers. There was a darkly amused grin on his face, one void of mirth, while those insane orbs held her own stare.

“Riddick!” her voice came out nothing more than a squeak, her feet not even touching the ground. Her daggers had been lost during the attack and she was left there to the large, bald convict as he looked her over.

“Good to see you too Georgie…” Riddick almost purred before bringing a shiv to under her chin, the soft skin beneath tempting his blade. “We have some unfinished business girlie.” The heat of his breath was pounding onto her face and neck, causing her frizzy hair to flutter around her shoulders and making her skin flush in confusion. This was the last thing she needed.