"You mother tried to kill you when you were a baby. She strangled you with your birth-cord. God knows how you survived."

Imagine telling this to a small child. Barely at the age of seven, just barely out of kindergarten. Rachel didn't understand what it meant, at first, but after asking around the orphanage, she knew. She also understood there were some things you didn't tell a small child. This was one of those things.

Especially when said child was in the penal system's education— prison education for all you illiterate types. The planet she was dropped off on was Helion 2, in the Helion System along with its brother, Helion Prime. Helion 2 was not as fortunate as its brother was at the time. The planet thrived with thieves, rapists, murderers and the like. Rachel often cursed the fool that brought her here, but was also happy that they didn't bring her to an even more dilapidated planet like Asylum, where THEM were founded.

She didn't know too much about THEM, only that every planet they touched turned into ash, and was the cause for the newest destruction on a planet named Furya.

Rachel didn't know much about Furya other than the legends and gossip the children and teachers whispered about. Humanoid creatures more animal than human, a war-like and defiant race that was keen on keeping their freedom. It was years ago, but it was the most recent attack on a planet thus- far. THEM must be gearing up to take another planet.

As she grew, Rachel was interested about THEM and the Furyans. But she had no information to go on other than the lies she had gathered, and thus forgot about them for a while at least. There was something, an urge, she felt. Something pulling her towards that planet. But she was much too young to go out on her own, and she didn't know how to pilot a ship. Plus, even though she was probably much hardier than any other child in the school, she was frightened.

Humans, the collective race that used to belong to Earth, usually had something to cling to, something worthwhile. The only thing Rachel had was her survival, and that was something she had to a low opinion. If her mother was so keen to kill her, what was her reason to be alive anyways?

For whatever reason, she kept herself alive. Any time she felt like something was going to bring her down to the very depths of her self-worth, the tiny droplet of pride she had for herself and suck it up, she would defend herself. She'd throw tantrums, claw, kick, and fight til' the teachers dragged her away or she was beaten down by another kid.

"There's something wrong with her," They said, "A violent sociopath."

She had to agree, there was something wrong with her, but she wouldn't go so far as "sociopath". Some said she had the gaze of predator, as if searching for a piece of meat. She took this as a compliment, flashing her teeth and bobbing her head without comment. She liked being different than them; what more could she say?

Then came the visions. At first, she thought they were the hallucinatory effects of jet. She was careful with the shit, though. She'd seen plenty of girls and guys knocked on their asses by the stuff, and didn't wanna wake up knocked up with a guy's kid.

Once she started seeing them outside of her drug sessions in the dump, she knew that she was much different than just being wild. Of course, what could she say to the nurse about it? She was seventeen, going on eighteen. They already thought she was a sociopath and likely to kill someone in the future, what would they say to hallucinations and visions? Off to the Looney-Bin with her.

So she kept quiet about it. She had nothing really to say, nothing that anyone else would understand anyways. She was a lone animal, with no friends unless you counted the guys you got drunk and high with, and those were the people she cared less about.

One night, after a drink or two, she returned to the dorms and slapped herself onto her bed, ready to sleep when she heard it again. The whispering.

"Goddamnit." She turned over in her bunk, "Not right now."

"Riddick." One said, its voice so quick she almost thought she didn't hear it.

"Fuck off." She pulled the covers around her, head pounding with the whispering. Sometimes she wished she wasn't so different.

"Awake." Said another, jolting her from how close it sounded. She hissed, but quickly quieted when a girl stirred across the room. Sighing, she stood, dragging her bare feet across the cool floor until she went outside. The wind was subtle, just barely tickling her shoulder-length hair.

"Riddick."

She followed the voices down the sidewalk and climbed over the gate. Luckily the security was low that night; they must have been circling the perimeter at the time. Rachel dodged a homeless man muttering at nothingness, a trash-can fire throwing eerie shadows on the ravaged and bent fence that surrounded the penal system.

"Here."

She turned, spinning on her heel. The voices sounded urgent now, pushing her towards her destination. She didn't know where she was going, she hardly ever ventured beyond the gates of the penal system unless it meant drugs or drinks, or a combination of the two. She felt caged and weak with a fence surrounding her, but the wild beast in her had been padlocked down. As much as she loved to be free, she wanted the privileges that came with being bound. Besides, she hated being sent to solitary.

"You're almost there, Riddick." It said. That was probably the longest sentence the vision ever said to her. She felt her pace pick up, turning into a jog as she followed the whispers with the repercussions pushed out of her mind. Whatever the voices were leading her, it must be important.

Instantaneously, the voices stopped, and Rachel skidded to a halt. She saw nothing of significance there, only a few men throwing luggage into the back of their space shuttle and a few night-owls walking around, but nothing that screamed 'destiny'.

"I really must be insane." She slapped a hand over her eyes, sliding down on a street-light to rest her feet for the moment. She stayed there for at least fifteen minutes, until she heard footsteps approach her. She did not fight, but merely peered through her fingers to gaze at the person. He was a young man, probably a recruited ranger for the military judging him by his uniform. He seemed curious, almost concerned by her figure. She growled, which startled the boy, which amused her enough to let out a little barking laugh.

"W-what are you doing here?" He asked after collecting himself. Rachel stood suddenly, cocking a brow at the young man.

"A bunch of voices in my head told me to. What're you doing here?" She snorted. This either amused the boy or caused him to worry more, but whatever it was, she hated the expression on his face.

"I've been recruited to the military. I'm a ranger." He pointed to the badge on his chest.

"I figured as much." She snorted, then paused. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen." He cocked his head, "Why, are you thinking of joining?"

This must have been what she was led here for; to be taken off planet and gain training. She had a hunch that by joining the rangers, she would learn how to fly a ship. That was reason enough for her. "It's crossed my mind."

"Well, the Company isn't for the weak," He admitted after a moment of fiddling with his rifle.

"Are you implying something?" She stood up straighter; her broad shoulders making her appear wider. She learned this technique of intimidation during ecology class, when a wolf would terrorize another wolf in order to assume dominance.

"U-Uh, of course not!" He waved his free hand while taking a few well measured steps back. "I mean, are you going to join? I could talk to my squad leader, if you want."

"I'd appreciate that." She nodded, keeping up the stance while following him over to the shuttle.

"How should I introduce you Miss…?"

"Riddick." She finished, deciding for whatever reason the voices were calling her that instead of her first name, was important. "Just Riddick."

*()*()*()*

Sigma 3 was a bastard planet five systems away from Helion 2, with a moon that held a prestigious Academy, which was something Riddick wasn't too proud to say she was working towards. She was unlucky enough to be assigned to that bastard planet, however, and her main duty was to rid the tunnels of the Spitfires. Spitfires were these little shits that could practically see in the dark with venomous spit and big-ass claws, so of course no one wanted to be the short straw to go out there and lure them out of hiding so another two could kill it. It didn't help that they breeded like rabbits and ate like them too; always stealing shit and eating people. Christ, no wonder people didn't like to live there.

The ranger team played dice to choose who'd be the unlucky son of a bitch to go out there be the decoy, and after a few times of getting her back and arms ripped to shit by those monsters, she was quick on the uptake to learn to cheat. Cheating was something you'd get a slap on the wrist back in the penal system. Out here, you'd might as well slit your throat. But it wasn't so bad, at least she wasn't one of the civilians out there.

Civilians weren't allowed weapons of any kind, the Company saying that it was a "security hazard", which she could understand to a point, but with all the slimy little bastards tromping around under people's homes, you'd think they'd give them a little more peace at mind. But no, they didn't.

As the tour over the planet continued, she noted the lack of empathy the Company had towards the occupants of the planet. They were treated like shit and they acted like shit right back. She wasn't even an enforcer and she got attacked by civilians left and right. Of course, she had the right to defend herself, but she never murdered a civilian. She decided to save that honor for someone else.

After saving a sorry ass on her squad, she was finally promoted to the Strikeforce Academy, much to her displeasure and optimism. She had surprised herself past learning how to fly a shuttle; she became a work of art, so to speak. She was almost super-human, strength and speed something steroid-cats would die for. But she didn't flaunt it… too much.

Not only was her body affected, but her mind was too. She learned a great deal at the Academy. A bunch of pigs they may be, but they knew what they were doing. They knew how to make monsters. Only, they didn't account for an animal instead.

But not that she didn't enjoy the treats from time to time, but she hated how the civilians were treated when she was yet again assigned back on Sigma 3. Not only was she treated even more like shit, but got to see the Enforcers treat the civilians like dogs.

Worse— slaves.

Of course, she decided to speak out against this tyranny as soon as she had enough evidence to support her claim. But of course like all big bad business-types, her shouts were ignored and her evidence destroyed. Being sent to prison was the last thing she expected through this ordeal, but it seemed she was prepared for it after all.

*()*()*()*

Deep Storage was a shit-and-piss hole, alright. They were right to say you didn't want to go there.

Deep Storage, or Ribald S., was pretty much Hell's hand basket. You had your rapists, drug-addicts, ex-mercs, murderers, and whatever hell cons you found out in the wastes of space. Sigma 3 looked like preschool playground compared to this place.

It was very low-tech, going back to the twenty-first century technology of imprisonment, which meant no hacking through doors or crawling through vents. You just had to deal with the fact you were now basically fucked. But not Riddick, no. Never her.

You see, being caged up as a child is never a good idea to put a kid through. Especially one that kicked and bit and fought back. You had to force etiquette on them. And guess what? When you set that animal, that toned and improved animal in a new environment built just for their kind, well… you had a new problem.

Like, where do you put all the bodies?

Maybe that was being a little overdramatic, for she never actually killed inside the prison. Of course, she always had the potential to be, she would definitely beat the shit out of you in a heart-beat if you even gave her the slightest inclination you were a threat. But most knew, after she took down the Alpha in the prison, not to mess with her.

Even the guards learned a thing or two about her in that time, for she never was actually caught in the act. Never was she seen on film hurting anyone, or even holding a weapon, which made her all the more dangerous. The unknown was dangerous.

Perhaps that was why they finally decided to throw her into solitary, just to see what she would do. It wasn't a good idea to have just three guards escorting her either, for she easily overpowered the first and shot the other two, in the non-vitals, of course. She still didn't see the three as a threat; she had gotten a hold on this… instinct of hers. Who to kill and who not to. The guards might have been a threat, but a meager one at that.

She quickly masqueraded as a guard and stole the only prison's space freighter to escape, and was somewhat proud that she escaped so easily. They should have tried to put her in solitary sooner.

The news that The Company put a million-credit contract on her was news. Becoming a wanted woman on five planets in three systems was indeed exciting as well. She had never been so popular before.

Of course, now she would have to disguise herself in order to evade capture. She still had shoulder-length hair, something that had remained even after she had joined the Company all those years ago. It represented the remaining childhood, the past. Maybe that's why she shaved it off so eagerly— and so crudely.

For whatever purpose, she was free now of those bonds. She wasn't so much of a human anymore— she was an animal.

*()*()*()*

The news of her bounty spread quickly, of course. Who wouldn't want a million credits for her head? She was quite proud to say almost every bounty-hunter and merc went after her in the space lanes. Of course, whenever she killed them, their deaths were added to her contract.

Her first kill was Philip P. Norwood, some back-water merc that couldn't keep his hands to his bloody self. It wasn't an all-together battle either; there were multitudes of skirmishes and fights that sometimes she would get weary of. Sometimes he'd tried to bait her out with captives, sometimes with banter. She was never fazed but in the end, she kidnapped him and killed him, dumping his remains unceremoniously in a tar pit.

Then there was Colin W. Grant and Benton Ju, similar stories with similar endings. Since they were all a part of the same Merc Guild, her price was tripled. Each merc they threw at her, she cut down, and her price went up. It was amusing, at times. Sometimes she lost track of her number.

Sometimes she evaded capture, sometimes she got caught. Those times, she would break free, but of course, sometimes she didn't. She spent a bit of time in multiple slams, escaping them with relative ease. Seems like she had a knack for escape, seeking the weakness in the system. It was like being back in the Penal System again.

Then there was Slam City, or Ursa Luna Max Prison, a huge ass-prison set on a planet in the boonies of space. She had been taken off guard by a pair of hired guards, something she commended them on later, but quickly escaped afterwards. She even had the time to steal a pack of menthols before escaping into the prison and to the hangar, where she escaped on another ship. She only spent eleven hours and twenty-two minutes in that prison. An all-time record she was hoping to break.

Of course, she had the opportunity when she met Johns.