The Lord Marshal marched slowly and triumphantly towards the body he just threw across the hall. He was confident in his victory, having the upper hand in the fight. This was the final challenge in his way; if the last survivor of that forsaken planet Furya is finally dead, no more obstacles could come between him and the Underverse. "These are his last moments." he exclaimed.
Riddick tried gasping for air as he lay on the floor. The necromonger had to die. For Furya. For Kyra. He wasn't sure about the girl, but the meeting of another converted – one of his own kind, no less – on Crematoria promised some hope that she could be freed from the necromonger ideas. And Kyra was a tough girl, and almost as stubborn as a furyan. Hell, she could even be her sister! The only problem was, this Lord Marshal guy fought as if he was in two places at once, as if he was two enemies instead of one. And fighting an enemy with this level of strength and skill was challenging, but two at the same time... almost certainly lethal. He had to come up with something, and fast.
As the Lord Marshal arrived, Riddick was prepared for a number of attacks, but didn't know how to defend from the spirit-hands that grabbed his head, and tore something blue, a gleaming shade of a head from his body.
"Give me your soul!" the Lord marshal shouted.
The furyan struggled, and tried to free himself from the strange grasp. As he gathered his strength to strike back and overpower the necromonger, his efforts were interrupted by two loud, banging noises. The strangle that held him fell effortlessly, and as he looked at the Lord Marshal's face, he saw a bleeding hole on the forehead. As the Furyan stood up, the necromonger fell to the ground, lifeless. His powers might have made him half-alive, but now he was most certainly dead.
When he finally looked around and saw the attacker, he couldn't help but to wonder how he managed to escape this notice until now – among the metal uniform of the soldiers observing the fight stood a man in a suit that has gone out of fashion centuries before, holding the antique gun with both hands, clear, blue eyes looking down the sight, and the barrel still smoking.
When the new arrival was sure his target wouldn't move again, he let the gun down and began looking at the crowd until he found the elemental upstairs.
"Double-o-seven, you are bloody late! Would you mind explaining what kept you so long?" asked the elemental with an edge. Her tone made Riddick smile; if it was any sharper, she would cut herself with it.
"I was delayed, Ma'am."
"You were out of the picture for so long, I had to execute so many contingency plans that I lost count. Hell, I even made up a prophecy. But now that you're back, I expect a full report of the last few years' events first thing tomorrow morning. Dismissed."