Match, point... game

Chapter four:
Stages

Riddick crouched low within the confines of the vent, his breathing slow and hidden. He stared down and out of the shaft through the small, barred air conditioning hole for the break room of the guards on this level, his eyes narrowing. There were a total of seven there, if he wanted he could just break in and take them all out, rush out the door… and then get attacked by around twenty other guards always standing watch at the elevator. Mentally cursing his luck for getting tossed into a prison that did not underestimate him he once again returned to watching those beneath him.

The seven that were here were the ones that usually started the fights with the prisoners in the double max. They were laughing, telling lame jokes, and each talking about their planes to do to the prisoners today, specifically some of the female inmates. The things that were filling Riddick’s ears were making even the hardened criminal and murderer cringe. And he was the one being held against his will in this scum hole… right, that made sense. The fates had a funny way of showing him that they cared.

Settling down into a laying position, sustained by his palms, he watched as the scene beneath took place. They were speaking professionally now, about the different trouble makers and who should be reported to the warden for a personal punishment. Several names came up, ending with Ave, Georgie’s little friend and groupie that followed her around everywhere like a lost puppy. Seemed that the girl had recently been caught with a few other aforementioned inmates over a guards corpse, kicking and yelling at him, each covered in the dead man’s blood. Rage hit his nose like a train and he had to resist the urge to snort it out, keeping his cover and learning all he could was the most important thing of being what he was. Information was power, and power was what he needed to get out of Brigitus S.8. He’d already wasted enough time in here.

“Well, we don’t know for sure if it was that Ave chick. I mean, there are four other female inmates on double max levels, any one of them could have done it!” a voice of one of the more moral guards interrupted, seemingly uncomfortable with the idea of submitting one of the females of the community to the rigors of their curator.

“Yea, especially that red headed one. What was that fucking bitches name again?” another one breathed, nursing a wicked looking black eye. Riddick felt a small leer come to his features, having seen the incident take place when Red had slugged this very guard for trying to feel her up when she was in her unit. He was lucky that he had kept his eye at all and retreated because the spit fire had reached for her blade and was going to cut him several new holes.

“Think she said her name was some guys name… Rick, Bob…”

“No, no, I think it was George, or Jefferson, or some random shit like that. A fucking hell cat that one, nearly took my ear off the other day when I was trying to talk to that Ave girl, told me to get lost before she really tried. I swear, she needs to come down off that damn high horse a hers!” two more guards were now joining in on the trash talking of Georgina, all of them muttering agreement to what this man had said.

Riddick did nothing but sit and watch, as he had done for hours at a time now. It was a miracle on their stupidity that he hadn’t gotten caught yet, and it was also a miracle of their idiocy that he had managed to find the area that he needed the very girl they were talking about. Just up the shaft he was in the area got smaller to where he couldn’t fit his bulky frame through and for once he had found himself cursing his strong, thick body. Beyond there, like most Slam’s, was most probably the control room for the double max area. If he managed to get George through that small vent, take out whatever guards were there, and switch off the lights and the security, then he would get them both out of here with little trouble. There were a few kinks in his plan that he had to hammer out before he tried it though, even if now he had the red head in accord with him.

Finding nothing of value, and having watched the guards leave to join the others for their quarterly count of the convicts, Riddick started to make his way back down through the vent on his elbows and knees. He made little noise as he went, picking out areas where he could see had the strongest fortification to land his limbs upon, and never put his full weight upon anything that even looked like it could creak. Going through the dark metal corridor was no issue for him, he knew it like the back of his hand now. Making a swift turn to the right he ended up with a dead end that really, if he just kicked the wall like he was doing now, ended up in his new personal chambers.

Landing with a quiet thunk he pulled his goggles back over his eyes and swiftly hid his entrance again. It had been pure tactically thinking on his part as to where a dead end in the vents might end up, thin enough, to where he could slam through the wall and enter into the systems unseen. He had scoped out the entirety of the double max, even gone into areas that were rusted and precarious even for him, and had come across this place. In the back of the chamber there had been a dull, thudding noise every thirty minutes or so, which informed the killer that this was where the guards and faculty were running their systems so that they could stay comfy while the inmates sweated bullets. He was almost angry at that thought, again, for the fiftieth time, but told himself that was how Slam’s worked. They weeded out the weak from the strong and even then, more often then not, the strong were thrown into the pits below.

From all the prisoners he had seen over the last three and a half months half of them were new and then gone and then new again. This place had a harsh turn over and if he had not been a stronger man than he was, or like some of the other longer standing residents, then he would have gone along with them just from the conditions alone. Riddick, having found his way out, now stalked over to a corner and leaned against it, appearing inconspicuous as shuffling of boots filled his ears. Humans could really be so damn loud sometimes… he thought with a wrinkle to his nose.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, a whole squad passed by him, one of the men shinning a light right into Riddick’s face, either to make sure it was him or to use his eyes weaknesses against him he couldn’t be sure but Riddick knew that he wanted to punch the guy for trying that shit. The people here were so damn arrogant. They assumed just because he was in their prison that he was weak and defenseless, that he was nothing compared to them and their little guns. He had been trying to keep a low profile since entering here, and had been succeeding swimmingly, until one guy had been messing with him, pushing him, poking him with the butt of his gun, and shinning his damn flashlight in his face. Needless to say that the guy had his neck snapped and his head almost taken clean off from the help of Riddick’s newly made shivs. He had made sure that the remains were no where to be seen, namely with the demons below, and had moved from his spot the second the corpse had been disposed of. But he had still gotten some people asking him about it, somehow, the next day. Luckily he hadn’t repeated the process since entering his current ‘home’ and was situated comfortably for the next few weeks, confident that he was secure enough that he could fend off anyone or anything. Now it was just a waiting game.

He had toyed with her. His mind flicked temporarily to an image of George the second after he had kissed her, to how her cheeks her were a deep crimson and her brown orbs were wide and filled with puzzlement and slight offense. Now that he reflected on it there had been no need, no real drive, for him to do what he had done. He could have gotten her to work with him just by promising her freedom, something they both sorely wanted with all of their souls, and she would have come along just fine. There had just been something in that moment that had seized him in its icy talons and had screamed at him to do it, to give in to the animal that had been roaring in his ears. He had wanted to kiss her at that moment, not from affection, affection had nothing to do with this or with Riddick anymore, but for the pure carnal need to feel skin on skin, to feel that intimate momentary bond of lips mashed together and to feel her body tense up and that panic rise in her chest.

It had been intoxicating… To have her scent surrounding him and then to just lean in and capture those lips, for whatever period, as his, as no one else’s, and then have that fear ripple through his body from hers was just so perfect. He’d almost forgotten what pure anxiety had tasted and smelled like.

He supposed that George was an okay looking girl for all simplicities of description. She was average height with a fit stature that spoke of her true trade and her religion of constantly keeping in shape. Her red hair was curly beyond belief, to the point of it being almost comical, and her skin was a scorched, sun kissed tone that came with the trade. Her brown eyes, though, were intense and fierce, sparking and smoldering, showing every twisted emotion that went through her at any given moment. She just was not his typical type. Then again, where would you meet a busty brunette with legs for days, long hair down to her butt, and a nice round ass, in this kind of place? No where… so he supposed that George was the next best thing compared to all of the others in this dump. It was an attraction of convenience.

But either way, he had left her there, in her little holding area, to think on what he had said. Had left her there two weeks ago and had thus let her stew and brood on the possibility of getting out of here in just a matter of weeks! How could she say no? Riddick, however, had decided to draw out the time of his second appearance into her prison life, had made the absence of his presence unnecessarily long just to get a rile out of her when next they met. He had enjoyed that one sided fight, as slightly pathetic as it had been, because she had not gone down in the first blow. She had managed to keep up with him to an extent and had even managed to mark him. Though he was proud to think he had returned the favor with many, many more. Georgie girl was undoubtedly angry by now…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bored. That one singular word was bad to her whenever it was around. Not only did it suck up any life she had it also took with her the ability to move lately and just loaf around in her cell for long periods of time, sharpening her shank down to an impossibly thin edge that could cut through steel if traveling fast enough. Boredom brought its dangers as well to George, because those were the moments when she would start to reflect on her past, on her people, and on things that should stay buried forever. She had even tried to count all of the people she had killed over the years, idly getting to twenty before the faces started to blur together, the blood started to become an acrid perfume, and she was force to give up her little game. Boredom was like a lover to George in this place, it would drape itself across her, hold her tightly, and wouldn’t let go for hours on end even if she was trying to do something of interest. Like stalking the resident paranoid mess Luke, who thought that she was after his kidney and spleen to sell to Ave, of all people, where she would use it in some voodoo ceremony to summon a dark angle to kill the entire universe.

Luke was funny. Times like this were also dangerous because, over the last two weeks, she had something of value to think on. Or rather… obsess on. Riddick’s offer, or rather, statement. She wasn’t sure if he was just rubbing it in her face that he was planning a way out or not. He had, by all means, not told her if she was invited in on the attempt that was going to happen, and had only alluded to the fact that she might play some role in it. He could just be pulling her string and just robbing her of what little hope she had left for the kick of it. God knows the guy was a screwed up fruit loop. Who wasn’t though…?

If he was serious then why hadn’t he shown up in the last two weeks? She had gone hunting for him, sure, but she knew as well as he did that he would not be found unless he wanted to be, and so the two day hunt had been abandoned and given up for waiting, helplessly, to come and find her. She hated her life. So she had waited, and waited, and those hours had bled into days and then weeks, where it was spent like this, sitting, brooding, and now trying to figure out what the hell had possessed him to kiss her in that moment. Then again whoever actually managed to figure out how Riddick worked should be institutionalized and should be locked up for the rest of their lives for their own safety.

And if Riddick was serious then that meant she was going to taste free air at some point, if the fucker ever showed his face. She would be able to go about her life as if this never happened and as if she had never met the guy, all would return to normal. Minus one squealer of an informant… oh she hadn’t forgotten about Trey, not at all. Here in the Slam grudges had a way of boiling and festering the point where they were oozing wounds that were begging to be chopped off, just like George was going to chop off his head the second she got her hands on him and a nice sized axe. On second thought, a shovel! A shovel would work nicely, nice and blunt and messy, his death would be slow and tortuous, and once she hit the spinal column he would not be able to do a thing about it. Oh sweet release of releases, euphoria equal to that only of death itself, it would be her greatest work yet! She couldn’t remember when she had been this mad at a particular person in a long time.

But that still left what Riddick wanted for getting her out of here. There were many holes in his offer, or statement. One was, what did he need her for, if he needed her at all? And if he didn’t, then why take her at all? Why not simply run for yourself, like he had always done at all of the other Slams in recent memory? What was his price? Was it something trivial like her jacket, which he still had, the bastard, or was it something of more value, like say, being able to sell her to the highest bidder at a slave trade? Now yet that was stretching it, even a guy like Riddick wouldn’t do something like that… Would he?

George hated being alone in times when her inactivity gripped her like a vice. So she was almost relieved when the form of her Ave came into the door and interlaced her arms into the bars, grinning down at her. Raising her head from its position against her arms the red haired woman regarded the teen expectantly, her eyebrows raised.
“Yes?”

“Oh, nothing… I’ve just heard a rather tasty rumor,” Ave said with a sweet smile towards the older female.

“Happy day, you have made my life worth living with your word of mouth and nonsensical hearsay,” George spat and waved her hand. Though she was bored she would not stand for gossip of any kind near her, it more often than not proved pointless and futile to listen to and the great majority of the times not true. She preferred if her informants at least bothered to get their stuff right rather than just spout it from their lips like a virtual fountain for all to hear, adding things as they went along to increase the scandal.

Ave snickered and stretched against the bars before saying, “ah, see, I knew you’d say that. However, you see, this little tidbit has to do with you…”

George sat straight up at that, her lips firming up. She turned to the blond with a curt look, her hands now resting on her crossed legs and her head inclined to listen better. “Really? This is news,” she whispered.

Ave laughed and nodded before coming to lean in the doorway of her partners cell, glancing it over momentarily before running a hand through her hair. She put her hands on her hips and began in a sing song kind of manner, “it’s about you and the other new guy… what was his name? Riddick?”

George this time growled low in her throat, coming to a standing. She came close to Ave, unwaveringly, to where her shoulders were brushing against the others, and demanded in a harsh yet interested tone, “what kind of rumors would those be?”

The blond tittered a laugh again as she stared down the harder of the two, cocking her head to the side. “That you and he are partners if you get my drift.”

“Drift, what drift?” George asked, blinking a few times in confusion. The other just chuckled in her face before patting her on the head, shaking her own in disappointment. Swatting the younger girl away George sighed under her breath and looked out into the ring around her, firming up her shoulders and making herself look more like the threat that she was rather than a prison rat.

Something made George suddenly shiver and she turned to Ave with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. Glancing from the shadow to the girl and back again she ordered:
“Get out of here.”

“What? Why?! I haven’t done anything! I haven’t been spreading that around, it’s some old geezer!” the girl complained by Georgina had already pushed her out into the corridor of falling cords that lead away from her area and into the prison populace.
When she had gone the female once more turned towards the shadows that hung around her compartment like a drape, clinging to every surface no matter what light was shone upon it. George scowled harshly, crossing her arms under her chest and trying to suppress the hairs that were once again rising on her arms and neck. She was starting to realize that this almost petrified feeling only came when he was around, that her body was warning her that Riddick was near by and to keep her defenses on high. “Who’s there?” George questioned, her fingers flexing nervously against her tank top.

“You forgot already? I feel insulted,” she started and turned to her immediate right, reflexes having her shank in her hand by the time she had gotten the full view of the man next to her. Sure enough, there, somehow having appeared without her even seeing or sensing him for a second, was the hulking, bald, goggled form of Riddick. She shivered when she could feel his eyes give her the once over from within the confines of those blackened shields before throwing her jacket at her, a noticeable chunk missing; namely both of the sleeves.

Catching it as if it were an after thought, never taking her eyes off of this enigma and inhumanly fast male before her, she took only a second to register the damage. Her eyes widened then narrowed, her jaw dropped, and her speech was robbed from her very chest, leaving her only to splutter her rage at it being injured so. The sleeves were completely gone, and not in a neat nice little tear, no, but ragged and harsh to where there were frays coming off of the leather and stitches. Her heart clenched and her entire shape was awash in hot, rueful waves. She turned the coat this way and that but no matter how many times she did it didn’t magically make the mend and it didn’t magically make the coat full again. Her teeth were now gritting together angrily and she shot him a dark, deadly glare.

“What the fuck happened to my jacket?” she snarled and flung it around and then emphasized to the torn off sleeves with a malignant look.

All Riddick did was to hold up two new make shift shiv’s that glittered viciously in the limited light of her area. He twirled them around for a second before returning them to his sides, keeping a close hand at them in case she decided to attack him yet again. Even though she had been no match with him and his bare hands the fact that he now had his favorite weapons more or less made her cringe and toss the ruined garment into the cell, grumbling under her breath forebodingly. “It went to a good cause,” he breathed in that deep gravely voice tha sent her spine into a shudder.

George had to hold in her snap but instead just took a deep, vindictive breath through her nose, throwing her arms behind her head. She rested against the door, her back being bitten into by the bars, but was too intent on Riddick before her, once again taking in his appearance with a speculative glance. He was, if possible, stronger than he looked, it had been no wonder that she had lost to him. Her lesson in humility those two weeks ago had not gone over well, in fact she had picked unnecessary fights left and right to get her confidence in her skills back up and to assure herself that she could kick anyone else’s ass. It was just this dude that she was a pathetic little girl against. And it drove her crazy that he had been toying with her the entire fight, just from how he had pinned her to the wall she could tell he had been holding back. But why…? She was really the only threat in the entire prison, if she could be called that, so then why let her live? It didn’t make sense.

Riddick and she stared each other down for a few seconds, neither blinking, holding gazes she assumed through his goggles, and she felt she had once again been drawn into an undeclared battle. Once again, just by his overpowering presence, she was forced to look away with a grunt and spat down onto the ground, running a hand through her newly wetted hair. “What do you want?” she demanded harshly, losing a bitter taste in her mouth.
She listened intently as Riddick moved from his spot and came to stand before her, tilting his head slightly so that her gaze had no choice but to come up to his at his challenge. When she once again was forced to look away, feeling like he was dominating her just by being close to her, she let out another frustrated noise, not used to being put in her place so soundly. It wasn’t until she was once again looking at him with no flare or demand in her gaze that he even spoke. “Same as you, Georgie,” he commented. His deep voice reverberated in her and she snorted slightly to try and get the sensation from her body.

“Okay… so did you come here to rub this in my face or to offer me a way out with you? And once again, what’s the catch, Riddick?” she asked with venom dripping off of her voice, once again getting annoyed at this guys aloof and evasive way of talking. If he wanted to hold a conversation at least try to hold one with more than a sentence of five or six words at a time! The more a person talked the more she had time to read their structure, find weaknesses, mannerisms, and learn just about everything about them. The fact that he was so secluded only made things for her worse.

Riddick once again chuckled before stepping back from her and crossing his arms. He seemed to take up the entire space around him, his personality bigger than life, and his mere aura of confidence was pressing at every single thing around, even her. She shifted uncomfortably, not used to such prowess, and watched him warily. “Why else would I be here?” he questioned with a mocking tone that she didn’t like.

George waved her hand dismissively, glowering despite herself. Why was it that he wanted to make her feel like she was the stupidest thing on the face of this planet? Did he want her help or not! “I dunno, you’re the crazy killer here, not me,” she muttered.

“Not from what I’ve heard,” Riddick breathed and was near her again, his breath against her hair before walking on towards the corridor to glance out of it skeptically. From her silence and the strained sense of the air he chuckled inwardly before continuing, “you’re a twisted little sociopath… you’re just like me.”

“Now that I doubt!” George snapped incredulous yelp.

Riddick gave her a withering look, surprising through his goggles, leaned against the ceiling, showing off the bulk of his muscles to the red haired woman. “Believe what you want, princess,” he muttered before the air around him suddenly sparked with seriousness. “Now, are you in or out?”

George furrowed her brows for a second. She wanted to get out of here more than she could say; this place was just cruel, much more so than most of the other Slam’s she had been in that at least kept her on her toes. This place was just boring, they didn’t release the monsters nearly often enough, only once every month, and even then she just had to kick her door closed and she was safe. This place held nothing that could hold her here, and yet she had yet to find a place out of this tedious mess of rotting metal, cords, platforms, and human bodies. Freedom sounded much sweeter than anything she could imagine, even sweeter than a donut of any kind, and yet she couldn’t help but sense a small catch in this. She felt a leer crease her lips before she could stop it, showing her pleasure at once again feeling the sun, the thrill of the hunt, and of being on the run and constantly on the look out for her own ass. Oh god it would be heaven to be out there again. “Depends… what are you getting out of this? You aren’t doing this out of the kindness of your heart,” she said in a sweet voice, putting her hands on her hips and regarding him with interest.

Riddick stopped in his tracks of pacing around the area and making sure that they weren’t being listened to. He stared at her from the corner of his goggles, his face not changing save for a pulse in his jaw, showing he had gritted his teeth momentarily. That was a good question. Other than he needed her to get through that small area there was no real reason for bringing her along, and therefore there was no real reason for him to be offering this to her. With her head cocked to the side like that, her still damp, manageable hair curling over her shoulders and her brown orbs filled with sparking curiosity, he knew what he wanted. Before she could react he was on her again, like two weeks ago, pinning her arms above her head and breathing against her face evenly.

George wasn’t as shocked this time but that didn’t change the sudden shift in atmosphere. She stared at him with a slightly pursed look while he cocked an arrogant eyebrow, as if it was obvious. She tensed slightly when his face buried itself into the crook of her neck, taking her scent deep into his sensitive nose while the sensation of his breath there caused her back to arch and a small noise to escape her lips. Fingers now gripping into his she rolled her head slightly to the side to bear her neck more to him, fucking sick of thinking on why the hell something was happening and content to just let it run its course. For all she knew this was just a game to him…

Riddick let out a pleased growl when she submitted to his search of her smell before grabbing a tuft of her hair and bringing it back to make her arch her neck and stare him straight into his goggle covered eyes. The abrupt arousal that was wafting off of her again hit him hard in the chest and he had no choice, like he had not two weeks ago, but to press his lips to hers hard and fiercely, closing the gape between their bodies. He felt her stunned orifice unyielding against his, but he didn’t care, instead he bit at her lower lip, growling again like the animal he was while one hand released her wrists and was now skimming her shirt bottom teasingly. There was nothing to do about this. He knew better than to pass up a woman he was this attracted to because then he would obsess himself with her. This way, if he purged himself of it while he was here, in the slam, it would stay here and they could go about their lives. He wouldn’t let this go on as far as he allowed it with Fry.

George finally melted into his body and opened her mouth when his once again insisted, moaning when his tongue came thrusting in without apology. Her breath caught in her chest at his forwardness, not even bothering to ask for consent but going for it full on. She liked that, that brashness, that boldness, that inconsideration, and just going on with something anyway bull headedly, it was so damn striking that she felt the instant pool of heat in her stomach. Not content to just be conquered she fought back with her own tongue, tilting her head to the side and joining in on the carnal, purely animalistic endeavor. This way… she wouldn’t be bored anymore.

Riddick pulled away quickly, leaving her to gasp for air, before he was down on her again, his hand now pushing up her top to where half of it draped off of her left breast. She groaned from their joined mouths at the sudden attack of air on her rapidly heating skin, pushing her toned stomach into his giant hands eagerly. He could feel her shiver under his fingers as they traced up and down her scar littered skin, her tongue never letting up on his even though he was very clearly the winner in the war of mouths.

He left her stunned however when he unexpectedly pulled completely off of her and left her there, panting. George’s fierce and perturbed stare caught his as he waved a finger at her, nearly humorously, then a sneer formed on his lips. When she was about to ask him what the hell he was doing, her face flushed and her body drenched in sudden, painful awareness to his own and everything around her and her core screaming for more of his touch he merely turned and started to walk away. Walk fucking away!

She was speechless, she couldn’t even begin to form words that were going through her head. It was as if when he had kissed her senseless he had done just that, had made it to where she couldn’t fight back when he just decided he’d had enough and wanted to leave like the arrogant ass hole that he was! Gripping into the bars and glowering deeply she could only be filled with the kind of befuddlement that came when one was dragged along and then dumped off. “What the hell?” she hissed at him, pulling herself up, not even aware that her knees had slightly buckled under the unexpected regain of weight.

Riddick didn’t say anything but merely walked back out of the corridor, making her gape after him. George threw up her arms in agitation, swearing several versions of his death at her hands, what she would do, how his face would look when slowly being impaled from his dick all the way out of his mouth! She turned around and hung from the bars, leaning against them heavily and letting out shuddering breaths, her body heated and beyond sensitive to any touch, her chest heaving with sudden stimulation and then having it ripped heartlessly away. What the hell was that!?

Riddick, on the other hand, merely chuckled as he walked away, listening to her raging and her swearing, basking in the way that her scent swirled and spiked when she was pissed off. The hunt after all was half of the fun. It all came in stages, it was all a play that would come to the concluding grand finale where he would get what he wanted, until then, he would toy with her until she was so bothered and stimulated she came to him and not the other way around. Not that he thought it would take long… Georgie struck him as the kind of girl that didn’t want to wait to get what she ‘needed’.