Disclaimer: They ain't mine. Iffen they was then Serenity would still be flyin', wouldn't she?

A/N: I still have not seen the newest Riddick movie. I keep saying I'll get around to it and it just never happens. So obviously this story isn't going to follow that story line. Duh. Anyway, the premise of the beginning of my story is that Vaako knows that Riddick is unhappy being the Lord Marshall so he gets proactive and drops Riddick off in a system of planets that the Necromongers have so far left alone. (Too out of the way, too much space between planets, whatever reason you choose.) Vaako is unaware of exactly what the Blue Sun Corporation intends for Riddick however he has faith that if it is something bad then Riddick is fully capable of getting himself out. Vaako does not intend for any harm to come to his friend and Lord Marshall he's really just trying to help. Once in the hands of the Blue Sun Riddick meets River and falls hard for her. How and why and all of the rest of what happens to them will be in the story and I'm hoping it captures your attention enough that you're willing to wait for the answers. A story is no fun if you know all the details before you turn a page or, you know, press the button or whatever. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Music of the Soul

Prologue

"Sir?" The soft, uncertain voice of the man in the cockpit of the shuttle sounded in the sudden silence created by the lack of engine noise. Vaako's thin lips turned down in a frown as he twisted around to regard his subordinate with cold eyes. The man visibly quailed under his intense stare but eventually swallowed and continued his query. "Are you sure this is the best idea?" His nervous eyes darted to the bound figure lying in a drugged stupor at Vaako's feet.

Vaako's shoulders relaxed under his armor and he sighed gustily in a mix of resignation and relief. He shook his head slightly before returning his attention to the bound, gagged and drugged man at his feet. The pilot and his concerns mostly pushed away in his mind. Still the question remained in the air. Was this a good idea?

The man twitched slightly in his bonds and Vakko smiled internally. Already he was burning through their drugs. He would be angry when he woke. Hopefully it would work in the Riddick's favor. He regarded the goggles that covered the Riddick's closed eyes and let his mind drift to memories and thoughts of the big man. This man that had been his friend and his leader. He would miss him but…he cut off the thought. It was better for all this way. "Yes," he said finally, softly almost as though speaking to himself. "The Riddick has no desire to lead us. Yet…he is a good man. I refuse to kill him though our faith calls for it. He has been…a friend." Vaako frowned to himself. He had not meant for that fact to slip out of his mouth. Shaking his head again he crouched down beside the shorter man's form and tested the chains almost absently. Should the Riddick suddenly wake and find himself in chains again none would survive his wrath. "He searches for that which we do not possess. We will leave him here and continue on our journey to the Underverse." It really was for the best. Or that was what he had to tell himself. He could not see any other possibilities that would lead to contentment for all.

The Lieutenant shifted to face Vakko more fully and cocked his head to one side to considered the bound Lord Marshall for a silent moment. His head dipped in a nod of agreement even if his face continued to frown. The Lord Marshall was an oddity. But Lord Vaako had always understood him better than any other. "He has been…discontent," the Lieutenant finally allowed in a voice that had lost most of its uncertainty. "Perhaps you are right, Lord Vaako. Perhaps it is better for all of us to part company here. Though…we will have to leave this system alone if we do not want to face his retribution." His eyes widened at the thought of the Riddick's form of vengeance. It was not something to which he wanted to be a party. Genocide was a concept not foreign to Necromongers unless it applied to themselves. The Riddick would teach them the meaning of the word in regards to them should he free himself and they were still in this system.

Vaako loosed a sardonic chuckle that wasn't nearly as mean as he wanted it to be. He too feared the wrath of the Riddick. Truthfully though any sane man would have. The Riddick was a fearsome man and only a fool would cross him and stay within his line of sight or even within the same galaxy. "Indeed," he easily agreed after less than a moment's thought. "Retribution would be swift and deadly." And a glorious battle to observe, though he kept that thought to himself, the lieutenant wasn't nearly as bloodthirsty as he himself was. "We can afford to leave this system alone." He rose gracefully to his feet as the shuttle sensors beeped an incoming message. "Come," he motioned the Lieutenant to answer the blinking screen. "We shall leave him in safe hands." I hope. If those men didn't keep the Riddick safe then…well, Vaako could only pray for their souls as they wouldn't be living for very long. Part of him hoped they tried to harm the Riddick. There was something off about those that had contacted him. Such men were not normally to be trusted. And he didn't truly trust them now but they were the only option he had.

Vaako stared down at his friend and leader as he absently listened to the Lieutenant's conversation with the Blue Sun operative, letting the words drift over him without really taking them in. Stray thoughts crossed his mind as he pretended to listen. He would miss this man. He could only tell himself that this was the right decision. It had to be. The Riddick may not thank him for this deception but it was necessary. He would understand one day. And if he doesn't at least he'll kill me quickly…maybe. The Riddick could be magnificently brutal when the mood struck him.

"Sir," the Lieutenant called out to him as he flipped off a switch on the console in front of him. His voice bled uncomfortableness again. "The operative is prepared to receive the Riddick…er, they call him the package sir. I am uncertain…" The man shrugged uncertainly as he trailed off and turned slightly in his seat to stare over his shoulder at his commander.

Vaako waved a hand negligently and nodded as though this action was to be expected. And it had been. He'd known those men were not to be trusted. Still it was far too late to back out now and dump the Riddick on a faraway planet. Besides at least when the Riddick woke up angry at least this way he'd have targets to kill and no time to make a plan to come after Vaako. "It will be fine," he attempted to assure them both. "The Riddick is strong. Should they put him in a cage he will simply break out again." And slay all in his path. "Be at ease, Lieutenant, did he not stride directly into our citadel and then manage to escape us?" He attempted to reassure the Lieutenant even as his own skin crawled with uncomfortableness. He wasn't enthused with the men he was handing the Riddick over too but…well, it was the only plan he had. And may the Riddick never darken his door again. Though he would miss the man he did desire to stay alive.

The Lieutenant nodded with a small, serene smile, reassured by his new leader's words and confident look, unable to see beneath the surface. Lord Vaako understood the Riddick in a way that no other Necromonger did or would. "He did. Very well, my Lord, they are ready for him. Shall I send-?"

"I'll take care of it," Vaako interrupted him, steel in his voice and his spine. This was one task he would fulfill himself. It was the least he could do for the man that had been his leader and would remain a friend no matter the systems that separated them. He crouched next to Riddick again, checking his bonds and securing the goggles protecting the Riddick's silver eyes. "Good-bye and good luck, my friend," he said lowly so that the Lieutenant wouldn't hear. "May your enemies fall to your blade and may you find the home you seek." He stroked a finger over the hairless brow and nodded his head in a bow to the man that had been so much more than a leader.

Vaako stood and, with a last, long look at his friend, closed the airlock doors and separated forever the life of his friend and his own. There would be no further contact between them. It was sad and yet…the Riddick will find whatever it is that he is searching for. The idea wasn't nearly as comforting as he wished it to be.

Vaako took a step away and turned to press himself against the side of the door away from the small window port leading to the shuttle's airlock. The Blue Sun operative had specified that no one be in the airlock with the Riddick while they retrieved him. They requested that no one even watch and Vaako had acquiesced though he had no intention of actually doing as requested. The small peep hole he'd drilled himself gave him enough of a view of the airlock to see what happened and would be repaired easily before they left the planet's atmosphere. He would not simply hand the Riddick over before being assured that he was in no danger of immediate death. The Riddick was drugged and unable to defend himself. It wouldn't last long and he would awaken alert and knowing him, angry, very angry. Still, for the next few moments the Riddick was vulnerable.

The outer airlock door cycled open and Vaako readied the blast gun in his hand. He would not let them kill the Riddick. Should they even make a movement that Vaako found threatening he would kill all of them. Even himself should it mean the Riddick would live.

The two men who arrived sent an involuntary shiver down Vaako's spine. They didn't look very threatening but Vaako could feel how very dangerous they actually were. Dressed in suits and blue gloves they had an unnaturalness to their movements and a cold dead look in their eyes. It was a look he well recognized. The conscripts of the previous Lord Marshall had carried that look.

Maybe this hadn't been the best idea after all, he thought, but it was too late to change anything. They seemed to be unaware of him. He only drew a breath after they had collected the Riddick and resealed the airlock after themselves. Perhaps he shouldn't have allowed them to cart the Riddick away but he really had no other options. Besides it was far too late to change his mind now.

"Peace and happiness, Richard," Vaako breathed out in farewell at the figure he could no longer see. He was sure he would find out later if he'd actually made a very bad decision. The Riddick would be sure to tell him just before he blew his head off. The thought was comforting in its way.

RR/RT RR/RT RR/RT

Two years later…

Silence. Complete, utter silence. A silence so loud that his ears rang with it. And the acrid smell of cleaning chemicals. That was all he could smell. There was no lingering trace of Her scent. She was just…gone. Everyone was gone. As though they had never been. As though She had never existed here at all. Only echoing memories left in the emptiness.

The entire complex felt as it looked. Empty and silent. Abandoned and disused. If he would have thought about it he'd have been startled that the place could become so completely empty in the short, but too long, month he'd been absent from its confines. But he wasn't thinking about it. He wasn't actually thinking about anything at all. There was nothing left to think about.

No, he had no need for thought right now. Thoughts and analyzation were not at all helpful for what he was doing. Instinct was all he needed. For The Riddick was hunting. Hunting for Her. For them. Either didn't really matter as one would undoubtedly lead to the other.

Nostrils flared and eyes sharp he hunted. There had to be some trace of Her here where they'd been for so very long. There had to be something left behind so that he could track Her. Could find Her. Could take Her away from these monsters that called themselves men.

But there wasn't. There was nothing left of Her here. Nothing of them. Just silence and emptiness. He roamed the corridors and rooms searching. In vain for there was not a whiff, not a cell remaining.

He finally came to a stop and stood motionless in the doorway of what had been their "room". They had called it a room. He'd always preferred to call it a cell, so had She. Cameras covering every angle, seemingly unbreakable glass walls to the hallway. And yet…he'd been borderline content even with the lack of privacy. Because She was here, a soft voice in the back of his mind whispered. And now She is not.

His already frowning face seemed to become harder at the whisper. There was nothing here now. Nothing but for the holes they had punched through the walls on either side of the room when they'd been sparring. The closest he'd ever come to a kind of home and it was completely empty now. No trace of Her. No trace of him. Nothing left to lead to Her.

His sudden howl of rage and madness tinged grief echoed eerily back to him in the empty corridors. His eyes burned into the walls desperate for some trace. Anything. She was the only thing that had ever stood between him and the madness.

Her scent had been completely eradicated by some chemical or other. The bastards had taken Her and bugged out. They knew he was still alive. And they feared he'd come back for Her. And that he would win that fight. They were right to fear, he decided, rage making his thoughts the red of blood. They should be very afraid. He was going to kill them all, after all. Every last person that had played a part in Her captivity and torture. And he would make sure they took a very long time to die, gibbering in fear of he and his Witch Queen.

"I will find you," he muttered In a dark voice to the empty room, to Her, to them. "I will find you and you will all pay in blood for the pain you've caused." He promised to them, his heart, the one they'd used to say he didn't have, broken and filling swiftly with the bloodthirst that had been his sole companion for so long. Before Her. The bloodlust that only her tiny hands on his skull could tame and mold to a purpose beyond the utter destruction of the 'Verse.

He took one last long look at the tiny room. Silver eyes blazing behind dark goggles and hiding the shattering of his heart and sanity. They had taken away the only piece of his heart he'd ever had. They would pay. He placed a big hand against the door for one last time, blinked the red from his vision, then turned and walked away, the Wrath of an entire race flowing through his veins and making his heart beat the tattoo of vengeance.

The hallways echoed with only the sound of his footsteps. She was not here. She was somewhere out there. And he would find her; he would not stop until he did. Slowly the echoes faded away leaving only the dust and the ring of dark promises in the air.

"If I have to burn the 'Verse and everything in it, I'll find you, my own. And then we'll kill them all." His voice hung heavy in the air long after he had left that place of pain and misery, torture and sorrow, happiness and contentment.

RR/RT RR/RT RR/RT

Later that week…

The bar was noisy, smelly and dim enough to hide a multitude of criminal acts, but he didn't mind the influx of sensation. It dulled the pain chewing at his soul just enough to make it bearable. The alcohol wasn't all that bad either. Though drunkenness had never been a crutch he'd turned to. No matter how bleak things had and would become he would not lose sight of his objective. He had to find some trace of Her. He had to find Her and make them pay for this pain and any they had visited on Her without him there to stop them.

A sudden flurry of movement and noise of commotion taking place a few barstools down the way from his own drew his attention away from his dark thoughts for a moment. "Toast!" A male voice shouted loudly and drunkenly if Riddick was any judge. Very drunkenly. "All ya'll shut up! I'ma callin' fer a toast!"

Riddick grunted, rolled his eyes in annoyance and turned back to his whiskey. The only toasts he made were to his girl. The heavy feeling of anticipatory stillness towards the back of the big room caught his attention before it had fully turned inward to thoughts of Her, of vengeance and blood, and he stared at the trio playing some card game from the corner of his eye. They were far too still. Too quiet and too watchful. Something was wrong there. Something poised to pounce. To destroy and tear at something. Something that called to him. Nearly ordering him to join in the Hunt.

"Five years ago on this day the Alliance routed the Independents!" The drunken man continued in his warbling shout. Riddick tilted his head to the side and frowned in confusion. What the hell was the Alliance or the Independents? He shook off the confusion, neither of those groups had anything to do with him. Still…, he argued with himself, information about this new universe the Necros had set him down in two years ago was all to the good…maybe. "Them damned Independents ran like the cowards they is! To the Alliance!" The burly, unwashed man three stools down from Riddick lifted his mug and downed the contents. Most of the bar followed his lead and a table full of military looking men in the uniforms that he recognized hooted and clapped. The three in the back were the few, besides himself, that didn't drink to the Alliance, whatever that was.

"Unification Day!" Nearly everyone yelled after they'd drunk down the contents of their cups. Riddick eyed the soldiers with distaste and ferocious greed. If they were what the man had meant about the Alliance then he had no intention of ever toasting them or doing anything with them aside from bathing happily in their blood. He knew those uniforms, knew them only too well. He'd seen them often enough at the Facility with his girl. They were part of the problem and he'd be more than happy to offer up a permanent, if bloody, solution. As a matter of fact…an idea percolated in his mind and he continued to eye them as he let it form. He wasn't stupid though. There was no way he was going to challenge them here. Not when the whole bar would take part in the battle. He knew he'd win but…a dark alley suited his tastes better. And he couldn't interrogate them while ducking the drunks.

Another part of him kept an eye on the trio that had been sitting in the back. The three that still seemed to be waiting for something. The dark haired man had leaned in close to the dark woman and seemed to be whispering urgently to her. She was shaking her head in a resigned way while the tall man with his back to the wall just crossed his arms over his chest and glared out at the room. To any other observer they would appear at ease, comfortable, but Riddick knew the tenseness of a hunter stalking prey. Those three were dangerous and itching for a fight.

His brain catalogued the trio's strengths and weaknesses even as he kept the same kind of calculating eye on the soldiers. He nearly snorted at the uniformed men. Milksops, the lot of them. He could have taken them all on with one arm busted and his goggles broken. It was the rest of the population of the bar that caused him pause. Even drunk these men were rowdy and loud and strong. They weren't milksops. A bar brawl would be tricky, especially if it was one against everyone else. He wasn't enthused with those odds and he wouldn't get the information he wanted either.

Four against the all of the others would be much better odds. But was there any way to snap that thread of tension holding the trio back without compromising their assistance? He took a sip of his whiskey and continued to attempt to think of a way to get the trio to assist him. He cast a frown at the soldiers; if the trio kept everyone else busy he could take care of the soldiers. Theirs was the only blood he cared to shed here anyway. And maybe in the confusion he could drag one outside and…interrogate him.

A few moments later the level of noise in the bar went back to its normal roar and Riddick returned to his drink denying even to himself that he was disappointed. Looked like he wasn't going to get that brawl going anytime soon. Looked like stalking and eliminating the soldiers in a dark alley was the only plan. Maybe it was better that way, he decided. Nodding to himself he took another sip of his whiskey.

Then, just as he was once again sinking into thoughts of Her, one of the trio, the shorter man, the one with dark hair, walked over with an empty cup and stood easily at the bar between Riddick and the man who'd made the toast. Riddick's senses tingled as the other man brushed by him. A hunter. Hiding. Watching. Waiting for something. But no very observant as he had his back mostly turned to Riddick. One hunter should be able to recognize another.

Riddick's Chinese was getting better but the dark haired man in the brown coat spoke his order far too fast and too quietly for Riddick to understand it. Besides, his girl hadn't been much of a drinker. She was only sixteen after all. And she claimed to have no taste for alcohol. Just as well, really, neither did he, usually. But sometimes…well, just sometimes he wanted the fire.

Movement at his elbow caught him again and he glance in the direction of the dark haired man. The other man had turned and was leaning back against the bar and looking at Riddick. "You didn't toast," the dark haired man murmured to Riddick lowly with a seemingly friendly smile. But Riddick could see the danger seething just beneath the other man's skin. Riddick felt the change in the air that signaled movement behind him and knew the woman that had been at the back table was creeping towards them. Maybe that brawl was in the offing after all. His muscles tensed slightly, preparing for battle and blood and the slaying of enemies.

"Neither did you," Riddick growled back, his own smile anything but amiable. Neither of them were strangers to reading beneath the words being said and a bargain was struck silently. Two hunters with a common purpose. Though the blood would tell how common this purpose was.

The dark haired man smirked in amusement or mocking, Riddick wasn't sure which and thought it might have been both. "The Alliance and I…well, we ain't too friendly." The other man confessed easily enough. Too easily. He was hiding his hatred, but not very well.

Riddick eyed the soldiers again his own hatred burning in his heart. He could understand the other man's confession. Assistance in a fight with too many opponents was always welcomed…at least until the fight was over. "Neither are we," Riddick shook his head and sipped at his whiskey to cover the Wrath in his voice. "You got a point to this chat?" The sounds of the bar slowly deadened to his ears. Beneath his goggles his eyes glittered silver steel.

"Nope," the man shook his head, that sardonic smirk still twisting his lips in that parody of a friendly smile, his muscles tensed and waiting patiently for the spark to light. "Just thought it was a bit interestin', is all."

Riddick snorted in grim amusement and shook his head. He knew the man was just passing time until someone noticed something about him that would spark off the brawl hanging in the air. He wasn't sure as yet what it was that the other man was waiting for but he was content to let the anticipation build. Made the fight that much more satisfying and brutal.

Still the other man simply leaned back against the bar with that smirk. His eyes roved the bar in a seemingly aimless way until they returned to Riddick's face. "So…" he paused and sipped at his drink.

Riddick's lips twisted in his own parody of a smirk. For the past week people seemed to ask two questions as soon as they'd met him. "The goggles or the…non hairdo?"

The man blinked and his smile turned amused. "Neither," he grinned. "Was wonderin' iffen you got a name."

Riddick found himself surprised. "Yeah," he answered and then sipped at his drink again. The other man waited impatience beginning to burn in his brown eyes. Riddick wished he could smell anything over the alcohol and sweat rampant in the air of the bar. He'd gotten too used to only smelling the chemicals of the facility and his girl. There were too many conflicting smells here for him to differentiate between them at the moment. "Don't ever'body?"

The man's expression lightened in his amusement. "Reckon that's a fact," he nodded. "Mal Reynolds," he thrust out a hand and Riddick eyed it for a moment before taking it.

"Richard Riddick," Riddick told him. "Jus' call me Rick or Riddick, if you like."

The other man, Reynolds, nodded and let go of Riddick's hand to go back to letting his gaze rove the bar. "Don' like Richard, then?" He asked absently.

Riddick's lips twisted into a snarl. "Don' mind it but only one person in this 'Verse calls me Richard an' you ain't her."

Reynolds looked startled for a moment and then nodded. "Gotcha," he murmured.

"Yer coat's kinda brown," the drunken burly man that had made the toast suddenly broke in to their aimless chatter, a sneer on his swarthy face. "You one 'o them Independents, boy?" His gruff voice was surly and suspicious.

Reynolds turned to face the other man with an easy, unconcerned grace. "And if I was?" He asked in a cool voice. Riddick shook his head in sardonic amusement. The drunk didn't know the tiger he was baiting wasn't near trained. He didn't even know it was a tiger and not a milk fed house cat.

The burly man frowned and took a moment for his alcohol soaked brain to process the answer before he straightened his back and stared straight into Reynold's eyes with a contemptuous glare, belligerence radiating from his every pore. "Then I'd call you a coward to yer face," he spat.

Reynolds' shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly at the insult. The amiable look faded from his face and he slowly and carefully set down the drink he had in his hand. "Pardon?" His voice was ice. Riddick felt his own shoulders tensing in a mix of wariness and anticipation. Reynolds was not a man to be underestimated.

Ignoring the heavy sense of imminent danger now permeating the air around them all, the burly man's eyes flicked to Riddick over the dark haired man's shoulder. "You too, boy," he spat out in Riddick's direction. "I say yer both dirty, yellow bellied cowards and they shoulda put all you Independents down like the dogs ya are."

Riddick felt that itching on the back of his neck that always came before a good fight. He couldn't help the dark grin that spread across his lips. Looks like he'd be getting that chance for a permanent solution after all. He set his glass down and rested his forearms on the bar. Deceptively relaxed. Ready to spring. And watching the confrontation between the other two men in his peripheral vision as he kept one eye on the soldiers in the mirror over the bar.

"Well, that does sound like a challenge," Reynolds said slowly, his body tilting slightly into a stance meant for confrontation, his arms loose at his sides. "Is it?" He kept his voice pleasant and maybe a little confused though Riddick could hear the undertones of dark pleasure.

"You dumb and a coward, boy?" The burly man pressed a step closer, Riddick nearly drowned in the fumes of alcohol wafting from his mouth. Involuntarily he leaned away a bit to avoid the smell.

"Smarter than you," was the laconic answer and the light of battle burned in brown eyes. "See I'm just stallin'. Had to give her time to get behind ya. But…"

The burly man spun around quickly, but not quite quickly enough and the dark skinned woman clocked him with a great big pistol before he could even raise a hand to defend himself or even do more than widen his eyes in surprise. "Independents don't hit people in the back," she finished for Reynolds with a vicious quirk of her lips that would have been a smile if it wasn't for the menace in it. "Not iffen we can help it."

Riddick let out a darkly amused chuckle, the woman was all kindsa interesting. Her voice had been nearly completely stoic but the light in her eyes telegraphed her enjoyment of the attack. Another hunter indeed.

His eyes flitted to the third member of their party and Riddick frowned, confusion again skittering along his senses. The big man was sitting back with his hands resting on the table, a cigar between his teeth and a bland look on his face as he eyed his companions and the suddenly silent crowd.

"Jayne?" Reynolds called out while keeping his eyes warily on the stunned crowd. "Lookin' like we got a situation here," the bar was silent and then there was the sound of scraping chairs as men shook off their shock and stood up advancing slowly towards the duo. "You got a notion ta give us a hand?"

The big man grinned, showing white teeth and clapped his hands together in mocking applause. "There ya are. I done gave you a hand, Cap. I didn't fight in no war and I ain't gonna." The lie tasted of bitter almonds in the air. One of the big man's hands crept under the table as the attention left him to return to the duo.

"Shiny," sarcasm rang thick in the dark haired man's voice. Riddick tilted his head at the big man. Backup then, he nodded to himself understanding the strategy. The idiot drunks in the bar had already dismissed the big man as a threat so they weren't watching him. Stupid. He was the most dangerous of the trio. Fierce intelligence hidden behind ignorant brutality.

The burly man finally got up from the floor and shook his head like a dog. He scowled at the woman and then at Reynolds. "Get 'em!" He shouted and plunged forward, arms outstretched as though to tackle them both in one move.

Riddick turned around and watched in interest as the man and woman braced themselves and then started throwing punches in tandem. He found himself impressed despite his own cynical critiques. They were an excellent team. The soldiers advanced as a unit and Riddick grinned. Let Reynolds and his dark skinned woman deal with the drunks he had a hankerin' to deal with some damn, torturing, asswipes of a military. They'd learn just what it meant to take his woman away and let her think he was dead. Her belief in his death was the only reason she wouldn't have somehow left him some kind of message. He ignored the stab of pain in his chest at the thought. It didn't matter, he'd find her and here was his first step. One of those soldiers had to know something.

His shivs spun into his hands almost without thought. Nearly an extension of his own hands. Memories of other battles and other blood. "Fun times," he remarked softly to himself as the memories flitted across his mind. A dark grin spread across his face.

Reynolds glanced over his shoulder at the nearly inaudible comment and frowned in bemusement. "Knives? For a bar brawl?" He squawked in shock even as his elbow met one drunk's nose. His brown eyes showed pleasure and a slight distaste. "Kinda overkill, ain't it?"

Riddick shrugged nonchalantly, hiding the flash of irritation at Reynolds' disgust for his chosen implement behind his dark grin and cracked his neck. "Soldiers," he motioned to the men in the uniforms. "They took somethin' special from me and I aim ta find out where She is." He wasn't sure why he felt the need to explain his actions to this man he knew and yet didn't. Normally disgust from others only made him determined to push them but…well, there was something about this Reynolds that spoke to him. She would like him, Shyrah's voice sounded. Riddick rolled his eyes behind his goggles.

The brown eyes widened a bit and then he nodded a grim cast covering his features. There was a look about him that was something like pity but not exactly. More empathy. As though Reynolds knew loss almost like Riddick's own. "Carry on then," Reynolds said without really taking his attention off of the fight. "Have fun. We'll keep these guys offa ya." He tilted his head to indicate the drunks.

Riddick grinned over at him quickly, trusting someone aside from his girl to watch his back for the first time in years. "Much obliged." Then he leapt towards the soldiers.

A/N: So there you go. A new story started. Hopefully it has potential. And yes after the fight Mal invites Riddick to join the boat. Let me know what you think.