AFTER ALL

Hey everybody! WHOO it has been quite a looong time since I've updated this...sorry about that. But here's the next chapter- watch it, it's a long one.

If you're still reading this, PLEASE let me know! I really appreciate your feedback! Oh, and as always- I don't own Riddick or...anything having to do with it, really.

AFTER NECROMONGER ATTACK…

They are on one leg before him and it is all but silent. Somewhere, something is dripping, making a mess on the floor. Probably the blood steadily dripping down the steps, he thinks. His blood, the Lord Marshal’s blood…Kyra’s blood. He doesn’t crane his head to find out which.

He was tired. Truly, almost as tired as the first time he killed for food. They day he really became an animal- and make no mistake, he WAS an animal. That deep, naked-in-the-snow type of cold, exhausted feeling. Kyra- Jack, he reminded himself- was dead, he suddenly had an entire race of clammy corpse people thrust unto him, and he was slowly filling the insides of his heavy armor with his own blood. Really, that about summed the entire day up. Death, death, blood, corpse people, blood death blood. Oh, and the skinny little fuck-up at his side kept asking him low-voiced questions. The Necromongers were still on their knees, which had to be hurting by now. Jack was dead.

By god he was tired.


********************


Days had managed to slip away from him as easily as the brand new silk sheets adorning the bed in his brand new gigantic bedroom. Ridiculously large, he thought as his gaze wandered lazily about the room, hidden behind his goggles. Riddick was convinced that the only reason time passed at all was because he kept his thoughts so carefully neutral. He didn’t really want to think about it right now. And he really did not want the little posse of advisers and commanders currently swarming him with questions and little nuggets of wisdom and crap. He wasn’t even paying attention- not that they knew, not being able to see his eyes- instead cleverly avoiding any responsibility by simply letting them handle it.

The Necromongers were not used to this. They needed orders, directions, exact specifications- and thus far, the only instructions to come from their newest Lord Marshal were to dim the lights, freeze the body of what they assumed was his former consort, and stay as far away from him as possible. When one of the advisers asked why the body must be frozen, instead of jettisoned into space like most useless things were, he was turned into a very messy little pile. And thus was born the implied list of Topics to Be Avoided. Kyra, goggles, dinner arrangements, and just about anything concerning the masses of people awaiting the gifts of his command- those were subjects that got people maimed.

Riddick stood stock-still, betraying his annoyance and exhaustion at the constant barrage of people that “really needed to speak with him”. One after the other stood, said their piece, and were silently shot down by the unfriendly and as of yet quiet Lord Marshal. The skinny little soldier-boy was here…he was always here. It seemed that the moment Riddick slumped into his much unwanted throne, the little bastard latched on to him like a limpet. A no-doubt conniving, scheming little limpet. Riddick couldn’t be bothered to remember his name. Started with a V, ended with a don’t-give-a-fuck.

One of his loyal subjects managed to startle him out of his daze- the tiny man’s voice was thin, reedy, and generally extremely unpleasant to be forced to listen to. He seemed to be very concerned with the current unhappiness of the nobles, his voice carrying about as much fear as it did actual meaning, to Riddick. And all at once he realized how just fucking delicious the little idiot would be.

Quickly, to cover the immediate and perverse stomach growl that followed that thought, he took one brisk step forward and almost roared,
“ENOUGH! Good…gods, people. You have been at this all day. I have plenty to think about, now just GO!” It was perhaps the longest string of words he’d put together in…months.

The reedy-voiced man probably would have wet himself, had that been possible. He shrank back violently, tripping over his own feet in an effort to get away from Riddick, squeaking 1001 apologies and scurrying out the door. It took perhaps 30 seconds of silence- far too long in Riddick’s opinion- for the rest of them to file out, visibly shaken. He knew he should have enjoyed that- who said Necros don’t feel fear?- but he found himself just…too damn tired. And now hungry.

The commander- the one who always hung around him- lingered near the door, silent for a moment. When he spoke, it was very quiet- if Riddick didn’t know the man better, he would have assumed he was…shy.

“My Lord…whether you-“ He stopped short as Riddick prowled a bit closer, trying to pick up any veiled emotion the Commander might be having. It took a moment for him to realize that the Lord Marshal wasn’t trying to scare him on purpose. “…Whether you enjoy this or not doesn’t matter. You sort of…chose it. You need to act soon, lest your advisors start believing you are mute. And that might be seen as a weakness, my lord.”

His little speech done, the man turned to leave, almost afraid of turning his back to the Lord Marshal, in case he should react violently to the almost-threat. Not that he had literally called him weak, he was just making a point, after all, and the Lord Marshal really did need to get on his feet and-

“Stop.” Riddick’s voice was just a low murmur, but it was a command all the same. The man turned away from the door, barely concealing a hard swallow. It was silent for a few moments more, allowing just enough time for the unfortunate man to formulate about a dozen ways he could be killed. And when Riddick spoke again, he almost jumped out of his skin and just barely managed to keep from turning and running. “You. You’re always hanging around. Probably the first time I’ve heard you say anything.”

There was another pause, and the commander could feel his Lord Marshal’s eyes on him like a steady weight atop his chest, pressing him flat against the wall. He was being very closely studied, and when he finally managed to lift his gaze from the center of the imposing Lord Marshal’s chest, up to his eyes…he found himself staring into two deep, black holes. Like a skull. He was quite sure his imagination could have taken THAT thought to the brink of insanity and back, when the Lord Marshal spoke again.

“What’s your name.” It was certainly not a question. The commander couldn’t suppress the half relieved little puff of air that escaped him- a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. The Lord Marshal was, maddeningly, smirking at him. And since when was he suddenly afraid of the man? Hadn’t it been…no more than a week ago that he had tried to kill him at the behest of the since deceased Lord? It was, a bit unexpectedly, angering. He straightened up and stared back at Riddick, seemingly taking a bit of pride that, as of yet, he was the first person to do so.

“Vaako, my lord. Cylus..Vaako. I am….was..the First Commander under the previous Lord,” He let out another tiny breath and wondered if he was to be killed or not. As an afterthought, he added, “..My lord.” And waited for Riddick to slaughter him, or send him on his way.

Riddick mulled this over for a moment, still appraising the commander from beneath his goggles. The man certainly had some guts- at least compared to the remainder of the Legion Vast- and so, after just one more moment, Riddick nodded.
“Alright, fine. Get out of here.”

Vaako really didn’t need to be told twice. He remained careful, reigning in that obnoxious desire to turn and bolt like a scared little animal. He was gone quickly, but not before he heard the loud command of:
“And don’t let anybody else bother me today!”
Before the door clicked shut.

*****************

Riddick listened for the sound of any more footsteps- coming or going. When he was sure that the Commander-
“Vaako.”
he said aloud, as if to cement it in his brain- was fully down the hall and around the corner, he let out an explosive sigh and sprung into movement. It wasn’t often that he felt constrained, these days…but somehow the little sea of expectant faces, constantly staring at him,waiting for him to give them something to do…somehow that was oppressive. Well gee fucking whiz, I wonder why.

He prowled about his rooms restlessly, partly to help him think- apparently the gears had to be running for the clock to start working- and partly to work off the sudden hunger that had claimed him. Always on Helion, he’d been careful to keep himself fed; it never disgusted him anymore, but a starved animal was an unpredictable animal…and Riddick did so love to be in control of himself.

He stopped pacing at the foot of the monstrous bed, staring blankly at it for a moment before tilting forward and flopping, face first, into the plush surface. Really, if there could be one perk about his new job, it was the creature comforts. Riddick wasn’t used to the feeling of ALWAYS being comfortable…and somehow….that also made him restless.

His stomach growled again, loudly, and he groaned and turned over. Enough thinking, enough moping. Jack would have teased him mercilessly, had she been here to see him like this.

***************

Vaako slunk away as quickly as his dignity allowed. Whether or not he’d not been officially declared First Commander under the new Lord Marshal- he still carried the authority of one. People moved out of his way, or got shoved out of his way. That was always a nice feeling.

Really, he had much to contemplate…but he found himself less and less inclined to brood these days. Especially since the Lord Marshal seemed incapable of making a solid decision…which left Vaako to do that for him. If Riddick thought HE was stressed, he needed to take a good look at the dark circles of sleeplessness under his First Commander’s eyes.

Vaako fairly exploded into his collection of rooms, slamming the door shut behind him and, ignoring Dame Vaako’s furious demands, disappeared into his private bed chambers.
He stopped at the foot of his bed, shifted from foot to foot for a moment, and decided that since no one could see him, it would be alright if he ungracefully fell face first into the bed. It was time take the alotted ten minutes out of his busy, busy day to just…think for a moment.

Something was deeply wrong with the new Lord Marshal. Everything Vaako had learned about the man- the way he fought and walked and talked, the way he could inspire so much fear and shock in those around him with just a few simple words- EVERYTHING said that, were he in his right mind, Riddick would be ruling the Legion Vast with an iron fist by now. And since he wasn’t…something had to be wrong.

Vaako rolled onto his back- approximately at the same time his Lord Marshal did, in his own rooms- and narrowed his eyes at the ceiling as if it would give him a few much needed answers.

The man didn’t seem apt to grieve…and yet he was. And he always had been very decisive, in any encounter Vaako had previous had with the man….and yet now he was carefully avoiding decisions. And was it just him, or did the new Lord seem…just a tad less restrained and graceful as he normally was?

Vaako sat upright, hearing his wife handing out orders to the swarm of people that had just entered his rooms, begging for more decision making on the Lord Marshal’s behalf. Vaako had done enough thinking- and resting, apparently- for one day. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, where one of those rare, ungodly headaches was beginning to form. There was really no choice but to see to the people- Riddick’s odd little issues would have to wait, for now.

***************

As soon as he had rid himself of the small army of advisers and ruling nobles, Vaako made the spur of the moment decision to pay a visit to the rarely used, much forgotten data base of the Legion ship. Really, he just needed to go somewhere devoid of people- especially Dame Vaako, who had reached new levels of annoyance- and if he managed to get something accomplished at the same time, so much the better.

He wove his way through the increasingly narrow halls, seeing fewer and fewer people on his way down to the blessedly silent underbelly of the ship. For once in a very long time, Vaako was unable to hear anything except the clicking of his boots and the dull hum of the machinations of the ship. The corridor leading up to the room stuffed with papers and- a rarity, these times- books was incredibly musty and simply REEKED of privacy. Which was wonderful.

He let the door hit the opposite wall on his way into the room, the dim, dust covered lights flicking on automatically. The room was rank, stinking of mold and disuse. He sighed- alone at last- and picked his way around the stacks and stacks of unshelved and unsorted books littering the floor. Picking an aisle- any random aisle would do- he slunk into the shadows and slumped to the floor. He was hiding from things, and he knew it.

Vaako took a bit of time to stretch out his legs and give himself a good shake, as if casting off the unwanted responsibilities suddenly in his life. The floor was very slightly wet, and he didn’t want to know why. He glanced around himself- at the walls and the dust motes in the air, resolutely thinking of benign things. He would have skipped over the book, any other day…but somehow, one dusty, cracked spine caught his eye. Vaako pulled himself into a crouch in front of the low shelf, peering at the disgusting old book. The title was mostly obscurred, probably water damage.
“The…Furyan…god, what is that.” He gave up trying to read the title under the dim light, plucking the book from the shelf and standing, holding it closer to the light. It didn’t help much. “The Furyan…Physiology. Lovely.”

He was in mid swing to throw the book into the deep shadows, when it suddenly struck him- Everyone knew that the new Lord Marshal was not only a breeder…but a Furyan breeder. That was the prophecy, right?

Vaako frantically flicked the book open and, just barely able to read the faded, smudged ink, scanned the pages for some kind of divine sign. Who knew- Furyans were such a mysterious breed! Perhaps his new Lord Marshal was simply experiencing some little biological…setback. Unconciously, he read the heading out loud, muttering to himself. Anyone watched would naturally assume he was insane.
“’Habitat and Climate’..no. No, it isn’t ‘Defense Mechanisms’, either. Good lord, who ever thought it was a good idea to PRINT data on paper was a bumbling idiot. ‘Breeding and Reproduction’-“ At this Vaako wrinkled his nose a bit, “I certainly HOPE that isn’t it…’Diet and Prey’…” He was about the disregard that, too, flipping to the next section about aggression and body language- when something caught his eye on the page. He flipped back to the bit about diet.
“Prey?” He was struggling to make out the badly damaged text, holding it further up into the light. It was all very dramatic. “The Furyan is, by nature, a creature of intense instinct and demand. They frequently hunt and kill weaker beings, with no intention of consuming them, almost as a knee-jerk reaction to the body language and movement of the prey animal. But what the Furyan needs most is a constant supply of protein, as their body demands…something to feul their constant movement. In previous centuries, the Furyan race fed off of the high-fat content of the…” He couldn’t pronounce the name of the creature listed, “..Which was commonly found on the planet. But in most recent times, as technology allowed the Furyans to branch off from the home world, they developed a strong taste for…” Vaako paused a moment, squinting at the page. Not that the words were particularly difficult to read, but they were perhaps a bit difficult to digest- “…For…human flesh. It was so readily available and easily hunted, that human flesh became a completely necessary part of the Furyan diet. Without it, they frequently sicken and…die.”

*****************

Vaako stared at the pages for quite a long time before quietly putting the book haphazardly onto a shelf nearby. By now, his stomach had quit churning long enough for him to turn away from the aisle and continue on his way as though nothing had been learned. He could ignore this, really. If he just blocked out this new, horrifying information long enough, perhaps he wouldn’t get….well, eaten.

He managed to glance up from his wet boots long enough to see one of the shadows in the next aisle move. Just long enough for him to SEE a pair of eyes staring at him from between the shelves, long enough to let out a undignified, shocked little sound- before the massive shelf swayed and fell towards him. Books flew off their perches as the massive structure made to crush him- thank god for his viper quick reflexes, he would have thought, had he not been busy fleeing the incoming doom.

Vaako flung himself out from bewteen the toppling aisles, skidding breifly on the watery floor before whirling about to face the would-be assassin. The noise was entirely painful in his ears, echoing down the halls as he sprung forward and caught the shockingly thin, pale little wrist of his attacker. Growling furiously, he yanked the traitor into the flickering light, as the shelves continued to topple- and by god it was a shock to see a small, heart shaped little face contorted in rage staring back at him. It was only a young girl!

Young, but certainly not defenseless. Before he could recover from the shock of realizing he almost got killed by a child, she lashed out, twisting her way out of his grasp with a snarl. One long, muscled leg whipped out and caught the unfortunate First Commander directly between his thighs. He actually left the ground for a few seconds, eyes saucer-wide, before slumping to the ground with a low whine. He’s be DAMNED if Necromongers couldn’t feel pain.

He gave one half-hearted swipe at the girl as she careened past him, trying to catch an ankle…but good lord he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of THAT again! She flew by, knocking over stacks and stacks of books on her way to freedom- only to be stopped abruptly in the hands of two armor plated soldiers. They held onto her as securely as possible, even as she writhed and wriggled and bit and clawed, screaming some really horrible things the entire time.

Vaako took his time in getting up, shoving the piles of books out of his way. His soldiers had her, and she would NOT be kicking anyone in the privates anytime soon. He gave a short nod to one of the men, and the girl was promptly trussed up in shackles that folded her up into an unmanagable position. She gave a grunt of pain and dropped to the floor, succesfully incapacitated. When Vaako reached down to grasp her jaw, he almost dropped her again- her fierce green eyes boring daggers into him, promising the very worst to come. He hesitated just a moment too long- because she took the opportunity to twist and clamp her teeth into his hand, immediately drawing blood before he could pull away.
“DAMN!” He snarled, ripping out of her grasp. He stood to address the two mildly surprised soldiers, snapping at them, “Get her the fuck out of here, lock her away. Don’t let anyone else touch her, because when it comes time to kill the little bitch, I’d LOVE to do it myself!” He shoved past them, quietly nursing his bleeding hand, all but blocking out the wonderful bits of information he’d just recently learned of his new Lord Marshal.

**********

Riddick sighed, snapping his goggles back over his eyes as he heard the rapidly approaching footsteps. He’d been trying to temporarily assuage his hunger over a meal of the artificial meat they had pilfered from Helion Prime…which had ended with him hunched over the sink, vomiting. Clearly, his body had an opinion on the quality of food aboard the ship.

He straightened and prowled out and down to the meeting chamber at the front of his collection of rooms, doubly angry and ready to choke the next person to enter his door until they turned blue. Er.

And of course, if there was once person he hadn’t expected to come flying through the doors, it was Vaako- hand in a bloody bandage and a furious snarl on his face, which evaporated quickly, the moment he saw Riddick tensed to spring. He skidded to a stop, instantly recalling the brief passage about the unexpectedly gruesome diet of the Furyan, and paling even further.

Had he been in any state to pay attention, he would have noticed that the Lord Marshal was rather haggard looking, skin about as grey as it could possibly get, in it’s natural caramel color. Riddick straightened with some effort, all at once looking as though nothing at all was the matter.

“What is it, Vaako.” He all but growled, eyeing the commander up and down and taking careful note of the way the man was holding himself, as if running here and put a great deal of stress on his-

“I’m sorry my lord, but something has…come to my attention. It might just be a trivial matter, but I thought perhaps you should know, anyhow.” Normally, Vaako wouldn’t have bothered the Lord Marshal with something so…beneath him, but Vaako’s pride was just a bit wounded, and he felt someone should know. “Sir, there was a…stowaway aboard our ship. “

Riddick perked up just a bit, coming to the conclusion that if said stowaway was just a merc looking for trouble, he might have dinner after all.

“I happened upon her in the underbelly of the ship,” He was careful to put any thoughts of the book in the back of his mind, “Where she violently attacked me…and..two soldiers. We have her in custody, and she will be terminated tomorrow morning, first thing.” He nodded, pleased with himself somehow. And was promptly startled enough to jump when he found Riddick about two feet away from him, knowing he was being eyed very critically from beneath those goggles.
“I…You know, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. Trivial, really. I apologize, my-“

“What did she look like?” Riddick wasn’t sure he was capable of the type of hope he was currently experiencing, heart thudding so loud he was sure Vaako could hear it. Still shaken, Vaako paused for a moment, glancing about like there was some kind of escape route.

“Well…she had rather large..greenish eyes. She was incredibly fast..vicious, even. Strong, for someone her size and-“

He was cut off again, Riddick snarling at him, impatient: “Was she small, sort of…wiry. Short hair, big eyes. Where did you find her? Did she say anything?” He couldn’t possibly be thinking this, but some little thing nagged at him, pressing him to know.

“Yes…and yes, my lord. She was between two aisles of bookshelves, hiding in plain sight. I didn’t see her until she wanted me to, I think. And…” He paused, not liking the suddenly fiercely angry expression on the Lord Marshal’s face, “And she…cursed. A lot.”

He knew he was probably overreacting, getting his hopes up, thinking irrationally- al things he didn’t think he’d ever do again. But here he was. Riddick bit back a vicious snarl, trying to remember that Vaako was really just doing his job and he wasn’t intentionally trying to piss him off.

“Get her. Bring her to me.”

Vaako almost turned to leave immediately upon hearing the order, but paused, suddenly curious. After a week of perfect inactivity, why has his lord suddenly so…animated?
“Sir-“

“NOW.”

That silenced any forthcoming questions, and Vaako quickly skittered out of the room, as if the sheer force of the command had shoved him. He gave one more questioning glance at the closed doors before making his way to where the wretched little stowaway was being held.

*******

Riddick took off his goggles as soon as Vaako was gone, rubbing his eyes. Just like before, he paced, suddenly restless. Cagey, even. He was behaving the fool, and he knew it. There was just no way it could be her. After all, he had watched her die, heard that forever-disgusting sound of a few dozen blades sinking through fabric and flesh. She had slumped to the floor and bled all over him, dying even as he watched. There was really, positively, no way Jack could still be alive.

Which didn’t stop him from hoping. He’d taught her everything she knew- how to stalk, how to be invisible…and quite a few of those curse words, too. It seemed so much like her, to attack so viciously, use the element of surprise to outweight the disadvantage of being small. So tactical of her!

But, he sighed aloud, replacing his goggles as he heard the commotion from down the hall, it wouldn’t be her. He was just being an idiot, he thought.

Until he heard her voice, screaming and verbally battering everybody around her.

“HAY FUCKHEAD, LET ME GO! Where are you taking me, you slimy, corpsified, ass ugly little freaks?! As soon as I get out of this crap, your balls are MINE! MINE, you hear me? You LISTENING, you gross little fucks?!”

The Necromongers hauling her down the hallway were trying their damndest to be silent and stoic. And she was trying her damndest to hurt them in any manner possible, thrashing about and snapping at anybody who came too close.

He KNEW that voice, knew it better than anything else out in the ‘Verse. Before Vaako could even open the chamber doors, he flung them wide, barely stopping to enjoy the sound of them cracking against the walls with enough force to dislodge some plaster. When he saw her, she was contorted in some ungodly way, mouth clamped onto the bicep of one of her guards, who was standing still, bleeding quietly. She let go of him and turned in the arms of her captors, breaking into a huge, bloody grin.

“Hey Riddick! Fancy meeting you here!”

He was silent for a little while, jaw hanging open rather uncharacteristically. Was there really anything…appropriate enough? How in the hells could he tell her how much he missed her without…sounding like a sap? He settled, at last, for:
“Hey, Jack.”

Vaako’s expression would have been perfect, but Ridick didn’t really notice.