The November air was frigid and sharp. Just the way I liked it. It whipped through my short midnight hair, biting and nipping at my ears and nose. I pulled the hood of my cloak down to cover more of my face as the forest back roads of the countryside disappeared behind me and Kloria, the Bandit City, came into view. Walking a fast, steady pace through the lively shanty town, I kept my chin down so that no one could see my eyes. The moment one of those Mercs saw them would be the moment they started asking questions The moment Mercs ask questions is the moment people start dying and, as much as I hate to admit it, killing slows me down. I can't afford to waste time tonight, I'm on a mission. I took to the shadows and lonely alleyways, places where I could better hide myself and stalked to a favorite hangout spot of my target objective.
I came to a shabby little tavern and cautiously, but confidently pushed my way through the steel double doors. Making my way to an empty bar stool, I scanned the place, spotting several handfuls of curious Mercs and the most important man of the evening. Anderson Keeves. Murderer, con artist, bandit. Worth five grand, dead or alive. Likes the drink and the women. Loud and obnoxious as fuck, but sly and cunning.
"You a native, or just passing through?" A jolly old fat man with mutton chops and a red nose asked me, leaning against the bar and whipping a tin cup clean with his apron.
"Passing though." I told the Bartender. He hummed in agreement, his eyes lingering on my face. I didn't look at him, just kept my gaze aimed at Anderson who sat in the back corner of the joint, smoking himself a cigar and flirting and flaunting loudly. "A pint, please." I told the Tavern Master. Didn't want him hovering around too long.
He cleared his throat. "And you can pay?" His voice held a certain accent that I couldn't quite place. He had the kind of voice that made you want to trust him, even if he was wearing a dirty apron and had grimy hands and face.
I didn't look him in his eye, but I turned my head in his direction. "Course I can." I assured him but he wasn't going to take that alone. I reached into a leather pouch on my belt and pulled from it a small gold piece. "Will this do?"
He caught the coin I tossed before it hit the counter and chomped it between his stinking, rotting teeth and gums. "It's real." He told himself and turned to pour me a pint of the house mead, grunting his approval.
I turned back to Anderson, who was still bothering the curvaceous tavern wenches, as my drink was slammed down in front of me. I took a chug. It was strong and bitter. The kind of alcohol that makes your tongue retreat, teeth curl, neck shrink and eyes squint. It was the good stuff. When I turned back to peek at Anderson, he was looking at me. He wasn't the only one, though. Before journeying to this place, I'd made an effort to suppress my animalistic senses. It's not that I didn't need them, on the contrary. They would be quite useful , but with all the different smells and sounds around, concentrating on one person would be much too difficult, so I shut them off.
I regretted that. Someone else was watching me and if I could suddenly feel their hostile intent so soon and strongly with only my human-like senses, I could only imagine what a beast they must be. I let my animal side bubble to the surface for a moment. I needed to know what I was up against. After sorting through the sound and awful scents of age old men who could use a good bath, I felt it. Something in the corner behind me. Something strong and powerful. I felt its eyes on me and felt its violent intention. Smelled it. Tasted it. I couldn't waste any time. I needed this kill and the faster I did it, the quicker I could get out of here and lose whatever was watching me.
'Thank you, God, for making me a woman…' I pulled back the side of my cloak that was closest to Anderson. The black mini skirt I was wearing was skin tight, as was the dark corset I'd chosen just for this occasion. His eyes widened and he grinned at me. Showing off my thighs and chest wasn't going to be enough to lure him, though. He's got enough women with him already. But what do I have that they don't? What do I have that would interest him more that those stupid whores? I smiled sweetly at him and let him see my eyes. Let him see the silver twinkle and teased his gawking face before I gulped down the rest of my drink and fluttered seductively out the door.
He would follow. Be it curiosity or complete knowing of who I am, someone like Anderson would surely follow. He did and I made sure to cut into an exceptionally deserted alley. I waited for him, leaning against a rough, moist brick wall as he rounded the corner. I folded my arms and his light shoes fell quietly on the cement pavement, the weight and scent of his drunken lust for me slicing through everything in the alley.
"Hey there." He slurred, coming to stare me down and lean his weight against his right arm that he placed on the wall next to me. "What's a pretty thing like you doing in a town like this, huh?" He asked me.
"Looking for someone to keep me company, I suppose." I mumbled to him, false shyness plaguing my lips.
"Mmm…" He grunted. "I could be that someone, Honey…" His body wobbled and his legs threatened to dump him.
"Oh? Could you?" I pushed my chest against his, showing him the ripe, tanned cleavage that my corset strangled as I reached for the dagger on my belt.
He was about to plant a lazy, drooling kiss on me when I threw him against the opposite wall and raked my blade across his chest. 'The chest? Why would I slice his chest?' Something, or rather someone, had distracted me. Someone huge. I looked the edge of the alley from whence I came and saw a large silhouette of a man standing there. It was the same person the inside that tavern, I knew. I snapped my attention back to my main concern and realized that Anderson had slipped away. I looked back to find that the mysterious Watching Man had gone and then I fled, racing after my prey hot on his trail.
The Watching Man was there with me. Male. Big. I felt him there. Couldn't see him, but I smelled him in the darkness, though he didn't make a sound that gave him away. I hurried through the labyrinth of alleyways, following the scent of my preys fear. Anderson was frantic and didn't know where he was running to so, when I found him, he'd hit a dead end. Darkness was leaking into the small grouping of houses he'd come to. The buildings with eerie boarded windows loomed over the twenty square foot space he occupied; his only light a lonely dim street lamp. Giant moths circled the dirty light as he shook and wriggled with fear.
I ran towards him, not hesitating to rip my blade through his throat this time, for I had to kill him, had to claim his death as my own before my pursuer caught up to me. Unfortunately, I had no doubt in my mind that whoever followed could indeed catch me and it was only a matter of waiting for him to strike. The target was dead and I soon heard the footsteps of a predator again in the alley behind me.
"Mine!" I roared, whirling around to face the dark nothingness. "My kill! You best be on your way!"
A gravely rumble of a laugh sounded from the alley, deep, menacing and unmoved by my warning words. "I came here tonight to slay Anderson the Lone Bandit." He spoke as he stepped casually into the light. He was a true giant. A hulking beast of a man with a voice so amazingly deep, stopping to gawk couldn't be helped nor prevented. "I didn't think I'd also be taking in Illana, The Raven."
'He knows...' I stepped back a few paces.
"The Raven," he continued, cocking his bald head. The black goggles he wore hid most of his expression from me. "With hair like pitch, her cloak as black as night and her silver eyes that pierce the soul..." He smirked. "...like mine..."
My breath caught in my throat and I froze, immediately understanding exactly who I was dealing with. 'Oh fuck...' "You're..."
"Richard B. Riddick. Escaped Convict. Murderer." He chuckled then and crouched. I knew what was coming. I could smell it on him. Could feel it in my bones.
I turned to run as soon as I felt the instinct. That's when I remembered I was in a dead end. I heard only two of his long striding footsteps, and he was right behind me. Before I knew it, I was in a sleeper hold and gasping for air. I clawed at his arms, begging for oxygen but it only made him tighten his gripped
The last thing I remember seeing were the moths by the lamp, thrusting their heads furiously into the dingy glass…