False Dawn

The building was dark and deserted. Water dripping somewhere deep within the structure echoed back and forth off the walls, making it seem louder. The smell of old grease and rust were thick, the metal walls themselves rusting through, making it's sole occupant wonder how it had stood for so long already.

Clothes hit the floor with strangely wet plopping sounds. The rent of a zipper and then the smell of strong soap.

Jack stood naked in the freezing building and used the small wet clothes to wipe her entire body down. Several places, her hands and lower arms, and her face took extra scrubbing, but eventually the cloth was coming away clean. She kicked the dropped rags into the pile with her discarded clothes, careful not to touch her skin to the mess there.

Her wet skin was cooling uncomfortably in the drafty building and she pulled open the bag she had stashed earlier and quickly dressed. There wasn't a light; she didn't need any to see. Moonlight spilled into high windows, giving her enough light to see by, but leaving most of the dilapidated building in shadows.

After buckling her boots she stood and stretched, warming herself as best she could. Then she picked up the bag and reached around for the last item she'd brought here earlier. An old dirty table, covered with rusty remnants and debris, had a small can that was obviously new at the very back. She dumped the odorous contents of the can onto the pile of clothing on the floor before her, being sure to cover the whole mess.

The can got dropped onto the pile as well and then she lit a match and tossed it. Flames shot up with the warning 'swoosh' as it sucked greedily at the very air around it. Jack took a step back, and stood watching the pile burn for a moment then turned and disappeared into the flickering shadows that the small fire was unable to penetrate.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

"Our lead story tonight: The killer targeting Chem Industries' workers has struck again. Cecil Heinrich, the director of the new Chem Industries' post opened on Pshakis was found in his office this morning at the start of business. The same cruel and bloody method of death was used, and coroners believe the time of death was between two and three a.m. Police are still searching, but at this point no evidence has been found. The Bureau of Universal Criminal Control has become part of the investigation, with this death bringing the total to twelve, each on a different planet. If anyone has any information pertaining to these crimes, they are urged to contact the local authorities as soon as—"

Jack dropped the remote after cutting off the spiel. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said to the empty hotel room. "It's only been ten, those other two weren't mine!" After a moment of thought she shrugged and rolled her eyes.

She went into the small bathroom to sweep off the counter, dumping all the toiletries into her bag and then zipping it closed. Her large bag was sitting on the bed, the false bottom open and exposing the contents. Guns, knives, a stack of fake ID's, a bag of make up to improve her disguises.

The pay load, the reason for the kills, other than the joy of bleeding another Chem agent, was the sack of cred chips. She'd had to work long and hard and carefully to get the accounts set up to where she couldn't be traced. The news never mentioned that the victims were robbed, that the computer systems were hacked and robbed if possible, or just seriously fucked with.

She needed money. If she were ever able to rescue her son, she would need a place to take him. Who better to provide that than Chem Industries? After the first five kills she'd hit pay dirt. That victim had been wealthy. She'd gone shopping after that one.

The Atramentous had cost her everything she had. The owner was registered as Gretchen Creeda. No red flags, no questions asked. She hadn’t had any problems at all. No wonder criminals were so plentiful! It was so damn easy. If you knew what you were doing and didn't leave a trail you could virtually disappear.

Jack zipped the bag closed, and headed for the door. She was booked in the room for a week, but it was just a cover. Doris Glent was planetside on business. No one suspected that she would take off in the middle of the night after committing a deed that no one would link to her.

Hezeweld was a huge mining planet that saw a lot of visitors. The entire planet was being ored for iron, which was the main ingredient of steel, a very valuable commodity to the growing shipping fleets. So of course Chem Industries had an office based on Hezeweld. There was money to be made, crimes to commit, and people to influence or make disappear. She felt like she was taking a leaf out of their well-used book, for that was exactly what she was here for too.

Rance Natave was her target. Her last target. With the money she knew this office was sitting on she'd be able to stop working up to getting her son, and go about getting him. She hated that he had to spend any extra time with those barbaric fiends, but now it was almost over. In a little over a week she'd have him.

For a company that was under the wave of a crime spree, the building had very little security. Jack planned her escape, and planted the things she would need in a nearby site that she scoped for days. Finally she walked right in under the guise of checking the distributors list for the employee meal synthesizer. She was patted down, showed her ID, and walked right in. No one ever noticed that she never walked out.

She waited for hours, her hiding place quite comfortable, if you didn't mind standing. At approximately 1700, when she knew the building would be emptying faster than an overturned ant farm, she used her phone to call the man himself.

Natave answered with the abrupt impatience of someone kept from doing what he most wanted, hauling his fat ass to the nearest bar. "What?"

She stuttered, making herself sound sorry and apologetic to be disturbing such a higher-up for something so petty. "Uh, sir, uh, I was told to, um..."

"Spit it out, man!" came over the phone.

She cleared her voice, making it even lower. "The security system is being tested, sir, with the killings and all, and the team that is supposed to install the extra units needs your signature to begin working."

"Why wasn't this brought to me today?"

Jack almost giggled, he was so pissed about having to come down an extra two floors that he was practically yelling at her. "They brought these papers with them, sir. With the additional precautions they're taking, they had to get signed verification." It didn't actually answer his question, but she doubted he was really listening anyway.

There was a long sigh, and then he grumbled, "Okay, have them wait then, I'll be down in ten."

The phone went dead in her ear, and Jack smiled as she slid it into her pocket. Ten minutes was perfect. She was in the maintenance tunnels under the building. A guard patrolled every four hours starting at eighteen hundred hours, and they tended to stay within sight of the elevator. The only slayings so far had been the higher-ups, but the guards weren't about to risk their necks it seemed.

A maintenance closet that could only be reached by going down several long corridors was a perfect spot. With the added heat on her she needed the body not to be found right away. If she wasn't off planet when the body was discovered, she might not make it off.

Minutes later she heard footsteps approaching. "Where are you, man?" Natave called, his nervousness apparent.

Jack stuck her head out around the corner of the door just far enough for him to see her, with her hat hiding her long hair. "Here, sir. We set up here."

He came forward, his eyes widening in relief at seeing her. "All this just seems a waste of time to me," he was saying as he came closer.

Jack stepped into the room, and waited, thinking of how wrong he was.

Natave stepped through blindly, and she was behind him instantly, bending his hand around to a right angle to the arm above. He screamed, literally gave a high-pitched scream, and she quickly kicked the door shut.

"Move," she growled.

He moved quickly.

She bound his wrists and sat him in the only chair in the room. After securing him to the chair around his chest, waist, and each leg, she freed his arms, to retie them. He swung at her several times, ineffectual panicked punches that she was able to dodge easily. When she was done he was trussed neatly with his arms individually bound to each leg in front of him.

He eventually stopped gasping like a fish out of water and started yelling. A strip of tape across his mouth quickly cut off that annoyance. Then he was shaking his head, his eyes wild as he stared at her.

She had hid a knife the day before and now she pulled it from its concealed spot. He gave a muffled howl from behind the tape, his head jerking back and forth as he tried to free his arms.

She ignored him, going to the door, and then gave him a long glare before opening it and stepping out. If she felt she was going to get caught, she could still walk away.

Silence. She heard a slight scratching noise from down the cross tunnel, but then nothing. Still she waited, holding her breath so she could hear any bit of noise. His cries could have been heard and alerted someone, though they were two floors down from any regular traffic, and the building would be virtually empty now. Nothing. Satisfied she went back to the room and her waiting victim.

The ropes were cutting into his wrists more, signs that he had been yanking at them. She was surprised he hadn't turned himself over in the flimsy chair. Pulling a small mirror from her bag, she checked her hair and make up, then gave her outfit a brief check. She was presentable.

The knife disappeared into its concealed sheath, and she stepped closer to him to check his bindings. Satisfied that he wasn't getting loose she grabbed up her bag and the chunky padlock from the table.

After locking the door shut, she began roaming out from his location. She had to kill some time, for lack of a better phrase. The computer system was only accessible from a console in the building, and she couldn't just walk in and start using one.

For two hours she silently prowled the maintenance hallways, repeatedly going back to check the hall her victim waited in, but never entering it. At this point she was still in the clear. Her excuse might be flimsy if she was caught, but she had passed through security to get in.

When she felt it was safe to venture above ground she moved to the stairwell with purpose. The elevators were not an option as they were monitored for security, but she could silently trot up the steps, listening the entire way. Eight floors up, she carefully opened the door to reveal a dimly lit hallway. She knew there were no security cameras on the hall, which seemed kind of stupid to her, but she wasn't going to argue. Natave's office was covered though.

Working quickly, she entered his office and disabled the two cameras, keeping as much out of sight as possible. They were recording, not being monitored, so it was really just a necessity to keep her face off camera. That done, she went to his already warmed up computer. With well-learned precision, she accessed the company's accounts and simply withdrew every single damn cred into a private temporary account. It was relatively easy to hack past Natave's security code. If any red flags went off, it was way too late, after the money was gone.

She had been unable to access Chem Industries main drives, ever. It seriously aggravated her that she couldn't do irreparable damage by getting in there and dropping a bomb. But with a saved computer virus, courtesy of the helpful Chip, she could at least shut down the system here, and slow them down. That was the last thing she did, setting the disk containing her little gift into the tray and hitting the escape key.

The way back down was damn near a sprint. She had what she needed, and she was no longer 'safe'. It was now time to finish up and get the hell out. When she reached sub-level two she had the key to the padlock already in hand, and ran down the corridor to her waiting Mr. Natave.

After unlocking the door she stood, breath held, listening. It wouldn't take her long to finish up, but she didn't want to be caught in the act for being careless. Silence.

Natave, having been left alone for close to three hours, was covered in sweat and was already bleeding from where the bindings were cutting into him. When she entered he began to struggle again, which she disregarded and pulled her knife.

The cuts she made were quick and precise, more like sticks really. Two small slits on the insides of his elbows, that was all it took, and still very little blood was flowing. Spreading her bag open she snapped on rubber gloves, and then pulled out two short thin tubes. Some blood was running down his arms now. She leaned forward, staying away from his head trying to butt her, and used her fingers to press in both ends of the small cut on his right arm. Blood spurted out, getting her pants leg and boot, the severed brachial artery pumping it cleanly out the hole. She stuck the short tube in to keep the blood flowing and then went to the other arm to do the same.

Natave continued to struggle as the two thick crimson jets pulsed in rhythm with each other. At it's farthest the blood was shooting a good three feet from his lap, quickly pooling on the floor.

Jack pulled the gloves off and indifferently watched the streams merrily dumping his life's blood onto the concrete. She could see that he was getting pale already, his struggles weakening.

"Kinda messy, don'tcha think?"

Jack jerked around, her knife appearing in her hand, prepared to kill the intruder.

Riddick nodded though he didn't look at her. His shined eyes were uncovered and never left Natave dying before him. "You're a hard girl to find."