A/N: Here came an idea for a Riddick story, and I figured I'd write it down. Short prologue but if I grab anyone's attention I'll be sure to keep it going! This is set after "The Chronicles of Riddick", before "Riddick".
Disclaimer: I don't own Riddick or the characters of the universe, I just screw them up to entertain fans.
Who's The Better Killer?
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Prologue
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She dreamed of it - the silence, the darkness, the pain that was at first so excruciating she couldn't imagine surviving it until it turned into something bearable and then something nearly nonexistent. The process was barbaric really, and ingenious all at once. The dulling of the nerves centers made for braver warriors who would spat in the face of death and conquer entire planets with the veil of immortality falsely draped over their eyes.
But the body needed pain.
It was needed to let you know when you were reaching your limits, when you were hurt and needed care, and it was needed to let you know that you were very clearly alive. And to release yourself of such a part of humanity and mortality was unnatural, unholy.
But what choice did you have?
The Necromongers had become both the unstoppable force and the unmovable object and there had only been one to stand in the way; the Furian.
She dreamed of him too.
Fascination, admiration of the man…no, the animal that was Richard B. Riddick had held onto her, through thick and thin and through life and eventually death. She had been with him since she had first laid her eyes on him, and until she breathed her last breath the words that she had wanted to tell him, even if the meaning could have been more clear.
"I was always with you. I was."
Then it was all over and she felt the release of death. It had been nice at first, pleasant even as her brain had shut down, as all of the mental pain, the physical pain that she could remember faded away into that inky blackness. But then there was a ghostly hand who had dragged her back to the surface, wrapped tightly around her throat until she was sure her neck would be crushed and when she had finally awoken and sucked in that precious air that her body had needed to sustain itself she was alone, covered in a death shroud and enclosed in a tomb.
At least he had put her body in a tomb.
"You never died." The whispers of the Lord Marshall had been there, breathing the words into her ears; the only thing to keep her company. "I just pulled you away, let him think that you had been taken from him. A weakness, such a strong weakness that man had and I never used it like I should have." Even in the darkness of that tomb she closed her eyes, wishing he would just go away. "I was a fool, but all is not lost, no. I'll make him suffer with the knowledge that you not only lived, he sent you to his death himself."
That had been the plan of the last Lord Marshall, and she had screamed and carried on, fought against the immovable door, and then gave up hope.
But fate had had something else in store for her, and as she drifted off into exhausted sleep she dreamed of the silence and darkness, and woke up in the light.
A/N: Short prologue. Like where it might be going? Give me a shout and I'll keep it up.
…Nuclotei