Hello all! Well I thought I would go on hiatus, relax, kickback and just read stuff for a while, but then this idea popped into my head and, well, here we are. This is my first Riddick/OFC story, so be gentle. It's set before Pitch Black after Riddick escaped the last time. PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE? That's as much begging as you'll get out of me. Without further ado…

Disclaimer: I own everything… except for Riddick, and other things that aren't mine.


The whole slam was in uproar. There was usually some tumult when a prisoner disappeared, but Ophelia could scarcely remember the last time the guards had to call her father down to the pit to do damage control. All the guards were panicked now, she'd heard Steel's tone over the com unit as he spoke with her father. She couldn't hear the words but she could tell he was upset. Something about one of the most dangerous ones escaping. Whatever, they were all animals anyway.

Being a slam boss's daughter had its perks; she lived a fairly comfortable life, had three square meals a day, went to school and rarely worried for her safety, even though the seventh ring of hell was but ten kilometers under her feet. She could hack it. It had its drawbacks as well, and the latter outweighed the former in Ophelia's mind.

"I understand Steel. Of course I realize how dangerous he is. Ye- Alright, I'll be there in a few." He sounded disappointed. She turned back into her room and flopped on her bed after hearing her father say he would be on his way. So much for their night together. She heard the footsteps come to her door but knew he wouldn't come in, he never did. He didn't have the nerve.

"Opi, I have to go down to the pit for a while, I'll be back soon. Lock the doors-"

"I know, I know. Lock the doors, stay quiet, don't draw attention. If anyone knocks and won't identify, shoot first and ask questions when I hear the thud outside the door. I know the lockdown drill dad, I'm almost twenty you know, I oughtta know it by now."

"That's my girl. I'll be back late. Don't wait up." With that the footsteps faded out until she heard the front door open and then the bolts slam shut after him.

She got up from her bed and walked to her bathroom, sighing heavily and staring at herself in the long mirror over the sink. She was an average girl; tallish with slender features, long auburn hair that hung down to the middle of her back, and crystal blue eyes that she'd gotten from her mother. The only thing she had left of her mother besides the name she'd been given after her mother's favorite character in some ancient tragedy that she loved. It was ironic really, because Ophelia's own life had become such a tragedy.

Ophelia barely remembered her mother anymore, as she had died when she was very young, and as the years passed the few memories she did have grew more and more faded. It was the only reason she stayed with her father now, because he needed her. She kept telling herself that as soon as the cancer won his life she would leave and never look back. The thought that pissed her off the most when the prisoners escaped was that they could. They could cut fence if they planned it right, the place was only a double max after all. She never could, not until her father was gone. She wanted so much more for her life. She had a burning passion for adventure and did everything that she could to get a rise out of her adrenaline. It was getting harder and harder though. She needed to find some place new, strange and unknown. Somewhere on the frontier maybe. She couldn't stand the thought of wasting away on this miserable little dirtball.

"Mirror mirror on the wall…" she muttered, punching the vanity and walking away. "Lights low." No sense in wasting energy. She walked out to the kitchen in search of chocolate to lift her dark mood. She knew, after all, that tomorrow she would wake up to the very same life and there was nothing she could do about it tonight. Chocolate was the only answer. She rummaged through the kitchen, finding everything but the one thing she sought.

'Figures,' she thought to herself closing the cabinets and huffing out of the kitchen into the small dining room, plopping herself on their lumpy couch, flipping on the telescreen to catch a movie.

Three and a half hours later she woke, the telescreen was fuzzy and the lights were still on. Her dad wasn't home yet. Rubbing her eyes she stood turning off the telescreen and walking toward her room. She walked in and changed into a tank top and long PJ pants and was about to flop on her bed and pass back out when she froze in her tracks; something wasn't right. She caught a scent then, like dirt and dried blood. She scanned the darkened room and instantly caught hold of the gleaming metallic pools coming from the darkest corner. Shinejob? A voice rumbled out to her from the same direction as the eyes.

"Don't run."


There's the start. REVIEW PLEASE and lemme know if you think it's worth continuing. Ciao folks!