Killer Instincts

[Full disclaimers can be found on chapter 1, but just to be crystal, Riddick and any place or character mentioned from the Riddick universe aren't mine. Cat's mine, as are any other original characters, but that's about it. If I did own them, I'd be sipping bacardi breezers in the sun, not shivering in the cold.]

~Sorry, didn't notice that chapter 3 had gone AWOL until Alaira brought it to my attention, so here it is again, you can have it back now.~



It wasn’t a particularly long walk to the pay by night hotel near the anchorage, a place known to be a favourite haunt of the Mercs. Not long, but long enough for Riddick to attempt to worm more information from his now captor. She wasn’t, initially, interested in divulging any further details of her life to this convict. He was persistent. Too bad he didn’t mean it. Too bad he didn’t honestly care what her answers might be. He was digging for anything that he might possibly be able to use against her, to convince her to release him. It was also too bad, for him, that she was not in any sort of mood for it. This was the closest she’d come to finding an inconspicuous way home in weeks, and she wasn’t about to pass it up.

Passing by a trio of low grade Mercs, each rising up out of their chairs for an eager glimpse of just who it was Cat was herding along in front of her, the woman in form-fitting black snarled irritably. It was low, possessive and dangerous. A warning but also a challenge. Take him off me if you dare, it said. None of them dared.

“You don’t have to turn me in,” Riddick quietly told her once again as they moved on, still calm and unworried. He continued to deny her any satisfaction in hearing him beg, he would never stoop to that level. She admired that. Points in his favour, and it was beginning to look as though he needed to accumulate as many as he was able.

“Yes, I do.” She looked straight ahead, eyes locked on the board-walk they travelled along. It was impossible to look at him, knowing she was about to relieve him of his freedom for the sake of her own. He was a convict, he belonged in the Slam. It played, a twisted mantra, over and over in her head, but somehow it just didn’t sit right, didn’t feel right. Prototype Hunter she may have been, but she’d never exactly been top of her class, never given in and actually done what she had been genetically altered to do. It was true that she had killed, she had visited the vilest of tortures upon the lowest of the low, and she had maimed and mutilated without a second thought, but never the innocent. Never the innocent. It was none of her concern who slipped through the fingers of the law. Long arm of the law was a generous overstatement. Half the time the law couldn’t reach across the table let alone the universe to reclaim what, or rather who, it might have misplaced. That was why they had required the Hunters. That was why they had tortured and killed hundreds before perfecting the procedure Cat herself had survived only through sheer will and a now legendary stubborn streak.

Where only minutes before she had harboured a steadfast resolution in her task, Cat now she found those first cold pangs of uncertainty. While on the outside, she remained impassive to the situation, inwardly she was brutally chastising herself over her decision. This was wrong. She was wrong. He was certainly no innocent, not by any stretch of the imagination, but by the same token Richard B. Riddick had done nothing but desire the same thing she sought, and a little company to boot. Her inner voice screamed at her for her ignorance, for her blatant disregard for him and his rights, limited as they may be considering his convict status. “I need my pack,” she said, the attempt at justifying her actions as much for her own benefit as for Riddick’s. “I need to go home.”

“So you keep saying. I told you, I can get you home. All I want is the ship after you get there.”

Cat opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut when a crew of seven strong, thickly built men approached from a bar across the rough gravel lane which passed for a street. Two had drawn weapons already, never a good sign. Reaching out, she gripped Riddick’s upper arm, a visual claim marker which went ignored by the interlopers. “Can I help you?” she asked, cool and collected even as she ran through each possible outcome of this scenario in her head. None of the outcomes were entirely what she might consider favourable. None of the likely ones at any rate. Cat rather doubted they were simply about to inquire as to the location of the nearest bathhouse, which they required almost as much as the majority of the convicts and petty criminals they shared the rock with.

“That who I think it is?” the one at the head of the small group asked. He was an unappealing hulk of a man, sporting a hack job of a crew cut and several home done tattoos. The man was no artist. He sniffed, looking down his broad nose at Cat and her prisoner as his thumbs hooked over his belt, feet set wide apart. He was trying to intimidate her. He was failing miserably.

“Well, that depends on who you think it is,” Cat replied, moving down onto the side of the road in order to step around this unwanted diversion. She moved slowly, courteously, to allow the bound Riddick to step off the curb without tripping himself up in his restraints.

The men moved right along with them, earning a deep, resigned sigh from the woman. “Guess that answers my question,” the man with the buzz cut grinned, hiking up his trousers as he spoke. “Never thought I’d run across him myself. Boys, this is our lucky day, we got ourselves a real fortune standing right here.” He waggled his eyebrows at Cat and continued rather crudely with, “Got a wrap sheet long as my di...”

“You finish that sentence, and I’ll cut it off,” Cat hissed, disgusted beyond measure. This one made her skin crawl. He didn’t seem the foolish type, his blatantly suicidal mistake in attempting to relieve Cat of her guaranteed ticket home notwithstanding, and yet here he stood, playing the grandest fool of them all simply by believing she would let his actions pass without admonishment. He made the beast inside hungry, even as it pouted with the knowledge that ol’ Buzz was nothing but an appetiser, if that. He was no challenge at all, as beneath her physically as a human child.

Buzz Cut laughed, looking over his beefy shoulder toward his cohorts. His laugh was profoundly more abrasive than Riddick’s could ever be, sending shivers down Cat’s spine until she brought the loathsome racket to an abrupt halt with the words, “Of course, then I’d have to actually try and find it.”

She shouldn’t have said it. She knew that before the words had even slipped from her mouth, not that it mattered now. It wasn’t as though she could take it back, even if she had wanted to, and unfortunately ol’ Buzz Cut and his crew didn’t seem to find the humour in her comment. The big man at the front was practically glowing red now with all the blood that rushed to his face. Cat wondered if that vein at the side of his head would actually rupture where he stood. With another deep sigh, she shook her head and raised her free hand in supplication. “Look, I’m taking my prisoner to the Shaded Dale, that’s it, I don’t want trouble. I’m sorry if your inadequacies as a man were something you didn’t want your friends to know about.” Sometimes her mouth refused to stop allowing words to pass through it. Damn her impulsive need to say whatever sarcastic comment crossed her mind.

Cat moved to sidestep the crew, but one large hand unlooped from Buzz Cut’s belt and reattached itself on the rigid top of her corset. She wasn’t sure which was the more offensive action, that he had dared to touch her at all, or that he had quite intentionally allowed his fingers to rest within her cleavage. “You’ll be wanting to move that hand before I rip it off and feed it to you.”

“I don’t like threats, and I don’t like self righteous little bitches, either.”

“It’s not a threat. I never make threats, complete waste of time. What I make are promises.”

The fingers tightened, and he pulled abruptly, hauling Cat closer to him. She lost her grip on Riddick, silently cursing herself for allowing it to happen. Two of the other men had hold of her payday before she could even right herself again. Damn, she was playing like an amateur, and the last thing Cat was, was a rookie. Should have seen that coming a mile away. “Get him on the ship,” Buzz Cut barked to his subordinates, “and get it ready to go. This ain’t the kind of payday you just sit on, boys, this is the kind you cash in on the second it lands in your lap.”

Cat watched them lead Riddick back toward the anchorage, eyes narrowing behind her dark glasses. “Don’t you rough him up none, I’ll be coming to collect him real soon.” She waited for the six man escort to vanish down a side street which would take them to the anchorage, then faced Buzz again with a tight lipped smile. Shifting her weight from her left hip to her right, Cat crossed her arms tight over her corseted chest. “Alone at last,” she said, her head tilting slightly. “Hand Riddick over and I’ll think about letting you leave this rock with all the appendages you landed here with.”

“Pretty confident little girl, aren’t you?” Buzz laughed. He sniffed, brushing one hand under his nose like a child. “You think you can take me?”

The black clad woman snorted, unladylike and rude in her amusement. “Take you? Buzz boy, I could rip you to shreds without ever laying a hand on your sorry carcass, but you’re not the one I’m after. All you are, is the total moron standing in my way.”

Spreading his arms wide, Buzz offered a smug, overconfident grin. He was calling her bluff, or what he was certain was a bluff, toying with her and all but calling her a liar with her claims. “Bring it on, baby.”

“Aw, you wanna play with me. That’s not very bright of you.” Deliberately prolonging the action, she reached up and took the bow of her tinted glasses between her thumb and forefinger. Closing her eyes, Cat pulled the protective lenses from her face, tossing them into the dirt. She’d have to come back for those later, if she was able. They weren’t the kind of thing she’d be able to easily locate out in the far reaches of space. She revelled in Buzz’s reaction as she allowed her eyelids to raise again, those perfectly white eyes locked on their target with an eager hunger. This one wasn’t going to back down, and the beast within wasn’t about to complain. It’d been awhile since she’d given it a good workout.

He snorted, loathe to let her see just how unsettled she was making him, simply by staring. A cold shiver ran down his spine when the unusual bounty hunter raised her arms into the air, hands clasped as she stretched toward the sky. It was a calculated, feline gesture designed to accentuate her body perfectly, to draw him in and throw him off his game. He knew it, and yet he found it impossible to look away as she twisted her torso, her left hand running down her right arm as it arched over her head.

As the right arm bent downward, Cat brought them down over her face and finally let them rest, crossed again, over her chest. “Okay,” she purred, “I’m ready now.”

She wasn’t bluffing. It was painfully clear, perfect confidence resonated from eerie white eyes. This woman was a real threat, so much more than he ever would have willingly given her credit for. This aside, Buzz did his best to hide the sudden surge of fear that washed over him. He had a rep to maintain, and giving in to the obvious superiority of a woman wasn’t a part of that image. The only real advantage he had over her was his sheer mass. Even that didn’t instill any level of real confidence in him as she moved closer, hips swaying almost seductively.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Don’t you want to play with me anymore? Too bad.” Cat dipped her head, turning her shoulders away as though to move away. That was when her head snapped back to him, eyes locking with his. Sharp white teeth flashed angrily at Buzz, those white eyes narrowing as she hissed like an angry feline. “I do.” Lowering to the ground in a crouch, Cat arched her back and launched herself at the mercenary.

Blinking, taken aback by the ferocity of the attack, Buzz stumbled backward. He wasn’t awarded the time in which to defend himself, and was left entirely vulnerable. The burning of her claws making contact with his flesh spread across his left cheek, the raw power behind the delivery knocking him to the gravel. She sat atop him, grinning in a frighteningly sadistic manner. She was wild, an animal too long caged and finally feeling the sun on it’s back again.

This was the end, then. Buzz had always thought it would be so much more spectacular somehow. Instead, it felt more like a dream. Hazy and unreal. This was the kind of thing that happened to other people, not to him. Never to him. Closing his eyes tight as the woman atop him raised her clawed hand to strike again, Buzz tried to prepare for the inevitable. Instead, he felt the weight leave his chest, and he opened a hopeful eye to gain an explanation. A hoarse, disbelieving laugh erupted from his throat when his eyes caught the sight of Amos, one of his more loyal subordinates, clutching the wild black mane of the leather clad female.

Amos pulled hard, forcing Cat’s hands to grasp at her own hair in order to ease the pressure on her scalp. Damn the blood lust. She should have heard this one coming a mile away. Like Buzz, he was a big man. Men like him weren’t the stealthiest of beings, and yet here they were, with Amos certainly maintaining the upper hand.

Cat snarled, taking her hands from her abused hair and imbedding them into the soft flesh of Amos’s arm. He bellowed with pain, instantly releasing the woman, but that didn’t earn him any form of reprieve. Cat held on, claws sinking further and further into his arm. The pain was incredible, like railroad spikes instead of fingernails. She pulled him downward, so that she was lying flat on her back with her catch looming over her, unable to escape. One smile was offered before she rocked her hips, bringing her legs shooting upward. Both feet planted firmly against Amos’s chest, and Cat let go of his arm, using his hunched position to flip him up and over effortlessly with her legs. Amos collided with Buzz, who had only just regained his footing in the unforgiving gravel, and both men crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Using the momentum of her effort, Cat braced her feet the instant they touched earth, flipping her own body up gracefully so that she once again stood tall and defiant in front of her adversaries. “That all you got?” she asked, brushing her hair back away from her face in a tauntingly ‘I couldn’t care less’ fashion. “My grandma is more of a challenge, and she’s dead.” A smirk twisting her lips, Cat moved forward steadily, fluid and deliberate in her actions. “Come on boys, don’t you know it’s not polite to leave a lady unsatisfied?”

“You ain’t no lady,” Buzz muttered, pushing Amos off of him and scrambling to his feet yet again.

“No. I’m really not.” Baring her teeth, Cat hissed at the men, fingers curled and ready for the next strike.

Amos, following his boss up, charged forward first, swinging at the woman. She grabbed his wrist, holding onto it tightly as she flung him around, using his own speed against him until he was face down in the dirt. In the next movement, she had twisted around, her leg rising in a spinning kick which effectively introduced her foot to Buzz’s face. “My nose! You bitch, you broke my fucking nose!” Buzz howled, hands tight over his face. Blood fell freely from both nostrils, seeping between his fingers in twin streams.

“Give me time, I can break a whole lot more.” Cat looked to Amos, still lying on the ground, attempting to ignore the pain in his face long enough to rip her apart. She’d seen it all before. Whether he got up or not wasn’t really a concern. If he did, she could easily put him down permanently, if he didn’t... well, it would be time saved. “So, who is going to tell me which ship in that anchorage is yours, hmm?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Amos spat out, pushing himself upward with his palms.

“Why do you people always say that? Seriously, just once I’d like to hear something original.”

“How about this, then? I’m going to skin you alive, and leave you to roast in the sun, bitch.”

“Well now, that’s more like it.” Kicking Amos in the stomach, Cat reached down and took hold of his arm again, raising it to a painful degree as she tilted her head to take in the still swearing Buzz. “I’m going to teach you my favourite game. It’s called ‘tell me what I want to know, or I snap your buddy’s arm like a twig’.”

“You broke my fucking nose, I’m not telling you shit, bitch!” Buzz snapped back.

“Hmm, well, you see that’s not how we play. This, however... is.” Lifting her right leg, Cat straightened Amos’s arm as she met his nervous eyes. “This is going to hurt,” she informed him, bringing her foot hurtling down onto his elbow, snapping the appendage at the joint. A shiver of absolute pleasure flooded Cat’s body as Amos howled in pain, singing to the beast within. She fought to push it back, just enough to find out what she needed. After all, if she tore them to pieces now, she’d have nothing to play with later. The animal inside did so love to play. “Told you,” she said smugly.

“You’re insane,” Buzz Cut told her, backing off.

“No, I’m what I was created to be. I’m a predator, vicious, cold... and you’re nothing more than a distraction, soon forgotten. Now, feel like talking, or would you like a turn, too?”

“Rot in Hell,” Buzz snarled, producing a short blade from the confines of his boot. Taking careful aim, he hurled it at the woman, certain the weapon would find it’s mark. He didn’t factor in the animalistic movements of his antagonist, and swore when it merely grazed her arm as she sidestepped.

Cat looked at her bare arm, eyes narrowing at the sight of the thin line of blood welling in the shallow wound. Her lips pulled back in a coarse growl as the first drops slid down over her upper arm, down toward her elbow. It was the scent, just as much as the sight, which excited her and enraged her all at once. The call was too much for her to resist. Giving in to the animal within, she set her eyes firmly on Buzz again. “You’re last,” she promised, voice low, guttural. She reached for him with the speed and deadly intention of a viper, her fist balling up in the front of his dirty shirt. “Be a good boy. Go lay down,” she ordered, slamming her other fist into his already damaged face before unceremoniously dropping his limp form onto the sun heated gravel.

By this time, Amos had regained enough of his wits to know it would be in his best interest to retreat. The mantra pounded in his head, in perfect time with his racing heart. Run, run, run, run... Part of him knew it was a futile effort, that she would catch him if she wanted to. She certainly wanted to. “Don’t you know I’ll catch you?” she called after him, as if reading his very thoughts.

She could have stopped him cold in his tracks. She could have ended his pitiful existence and not have a single hand sullied by his filth, and yet she knew that wasn’t how this was going to end. She was too hungry now, wanted it too badly. The chase... no, the hunt. The thrill of it, the racing of the bloodlust in her veins. It was time to let her other half out to play.