Age of Nox

Chapter 3

Toombs groaned.

This bed had never been quite comfortable. He was sore and naturally grouchy, especially now that the lights were on full and glaring him into wakefulness.

The lights were on.

Electricity.

With a grunt, he quickly got out of bed and stumbled through his small room. The door shut behind him and he remembered how the previous night Jack had hay-wired the door system of his door so he could get in. With a stupid grin on his face that looked predatory, he sauntered through his small ship. He had electricity. Probably had running water and other such necessities, too.

What he was surprised to see was Jack curled up on the floor, sleeping on the thin emergency blanket. Sure he didn't give a damn about her well-being, but he wouldn't have the genius who just fixed his ship sleeping on the floor. Besides, the floor probably wasn't clean and other things could be there. Like a new crate of helkin.

Ah, helkin. Shorter name for the Kin of Hell, helkin was an alcohol that could knock out any good drinker in a few sips. It was Toombs' favourite and he didn't care that it was expensive. But in the mean time, Jack was taking up space.

"Hey, man-girl, up." He nudged her with the toe of his boot and froze when a blade was suddenly very close to beneath his belt. Too close.

"Oh," she put down the blade. "Morning Toombs." She mumbled and went back to the floor, looking like she was going to sleep.

"Get up, Jack." He ordered and with a glare that could've rivaled his, she stood, looking sleepy and mussed. "There's a plate on the outside of the ship I want you to check."

"Fucking hell, I just woke up." Jack snarled, but slammed her hand onto the open hatch button and stalked down the stairs, not realizing that it closed behind her. "What plate, Toombs?"

He smirked and walked back to the front of the cockpit, kicking the blanket away. Sitting down, he activated the microphone that led to the outside of the ship.

"If I'm not going senile, I believe I housed you, fed you and let you fix my ship. Now get the hell outta my sight, punk." He shut of the microphone.

Jack was furious.

How dare he?

She refused to stand here and look like a fool, so Jack turned and walked away, not sparing a glance back. She could feel the smug arrogance emanating from the ship and wanted to throw up. No wonder Riddick hated mercs. Then again, she doubted he had ever tried to be in a merc's crew, much less talk to them in a reasonable fashion that didn't include shivs.

Sighing, she kept walking, wishing she had a better coat. She didn't even have a sweater to pull tighter around her so she wrapped her arms over her thin frame. Jack was a few blocks away from the hanger by now and knew she couldn't be happier if she never saw Toombs' stupid grin again.

But now she needed a job. And a place to stay. Cursing Toombs one last time she turned the corner. Too late she saw the advancing shadows and a damp cloth was pressed over her nose and mouth. She couldn't even begin to struggle before she felt consciousness leave her.

Imam struggled.

He knew Riddick had told him not to contact him until a month or so had passed. He would be light years away by then so it wouldn't be that dangerous but Imam was not sure in this situation. He had been devastated when he went into Jack's room and found the panes of glass carefully laid out on pillows on the floor. No note, no trace left of her. Surely his note was found crumpled and tossed to the side of the room, but he knew at least she had read it.

A sleepless night had gone by and he was sure that she would return. He would scold her and then hug her, glad to have her out of harm's way.

Yet in his heart of hearts he knew that she was no different than Riddick. She was a beast indeed, but still a young one that needed training and guidance. He himself was not the man to do this and Riddick had backed away from the responsibility, claiming it was too dangerous for her to be with him. While he wanted her to be safe, Imam also hoped she would find someone who could help her. Teach her, even.

Tapping his fingers against the cool stone of the balcony, Imam struggled. What was he to do?

An entire day had passed.

Toombs had done a quick and dirty job, pulling in just enough cash to power up his cells and get out of New Mecca. Sure assassination wasn't his thing, but when it paid, it was worth it. But he was still sitting in the hanger, staring at the open doors. He had assured himself he wasn't expecting Jack to walk through those doors, tail between her legs, looking for his help. While he would've teased her, he would've been secretly glad to have her back.

New Mecca might be a holy city, but every city has its criminals.

He wasn't worried. Honest to the panties of the Virgin Mary herself, he was not worried about that punk. He still didn't know how to fix his ship so he needed someone to do that for him. Jack was the perfect option. And he was definitely not worried about her, not at all.

Well, he mused, lighting a cigarette, not yet.

Wherever she was, it was night.

Jack groaned, a sense of soreness and aching taking hold through her body. She vaguely remembered being carried, dragged and tossed somewhere, but that was it.

Then it hit her.

Clips of conversation flitted through her memory and she caught onto enough words to know that she was now in the slave trade of the universe. She was going to be slaved out. Some sick bastard was going to pay for her and use her to his content, probably making her walk nearly naked around his lavish home with a collar around her neck. She had heard the stories alright, definitely knew what was going on.

She shut her eyes tightly, willing any tears back. She wanted comfort. This wasn't a time to pretend she was all strong and brave because she knew she really wasn't. Jack knew she needed to be saved. She wanted to be the damsel in distress, no matter how unflattering that image may be. Jack opened her eyes and choked back a sob, the ankle and wrist shackles roughly chafing her. She struggled, feeling the bite of the rusty metal. Perhaps if she was scarred no one would want her and she'd be killed. That would be infinitely better then being slaved out.

The door to her dark room banged open and she closed her eyes again, wishing to anything that it was someone to come save her. But as she was dragged by a strong grip on the shackles, Jack whimpered. She was alone in this.

"Fuck." Toombs shoved the pawing prostitute off of his arm and growled at her, making her scuttle off in her stiletto heels. He couldn't stop thinking about that stupid girl. Jack. He tried to take off his mind by listening to other conversations and he locked onto one.

"-so, heard a new one was brought in this morning."

"Yeah? Oh! Heard about this one. Some mother fucker with a weird fetish is gonna like that creepy bitch."

"Seriously, don't know how many buyers are gonna be interested in a chick with a shaved head." The first one replied and they both laughed.

"God damn!" Toombs slammed down his glass, not caring that it shattered in his hand. He fisted his hands as he stormed out of the bar, the glass shards slicing through tape and skin. He still didn't feel it.

He didn't even realize he was running until he stopped in front of the back door to one of the larger slave trading hubs in the city. Toombs charged in, pushing through the line of well-dressed men who were eyeing boys on show.

He was disgusted.

Scantily dressed boys exhibited themselves in windows to the men who waited on line. There were a few girls but they just tried to ignore the drooling stares, looking away. Toombs barely took notice, but snarled at the man working behind the key desk.

"Take me to the stock rooms," Toombs nearly roared at the smaller man.

"You'll have to wait in line…" he faded off when a blaster was leveled at his forehead. "Fine!"

Toombs didn't holster it until someone approached from behind the man and nodded towards Toombs. Still holding his blaster, he followed the other man through red hallways that changed into steel walls with prison doors. Toombs glared at the man's leather duster that was split down the back from the high thigh down, making it flap like a dead fish. They finally stopped at one.

"We just changed her cell." He drawled, lazily finding the key.

"You fuckin' pussy," Toombs gave him his patented sarcastic look of hatred and kneed him in the groan, grabbing his silky hair (that he noted was pulled back into a pony tail) and smashing his face against his knee.

He was satisfied with the crack and the groan as the man fell the floor. Toombs was about to open the door when he glanced at the leather coat again.

Jack could barely stay awake.

They had drugged her with something, definitely something to make her sleep. But she fought to stay awake, especially when she heard a struggle outside.

But soon she was asleep, wishing she could scratch at the dried blood on her wrists and ankles. It would scar, but at this rate she didn't think she'd be alive to even see the scarring. Her eyes drooped again, unable to stay open even when her door was roughly wrenched open.

"Toombs, you piece of mother-fucking shit!" He cursed himself when he saw her on the floor. If she had looked unhealthy with her clothes on, she looked near dead with them off. Most of them, anyway.

Taking his blaster, he carefully aimed and shot the cuffs, cursing when pieces of it shattered and sliced into her already bloody skin. He hurriedly covered her with the coat, buttoning a few of the clasps to keep her bruised body hidden from view. Trying not to hurt her even more, he eased her up into his arms and walked out of the cell.

What will happen next?

Your decision!

a) something will happen to Toombs on the way back to the ship

b) Jack won't wake up

c) Imam stumbles upon the two/Imam contacts Riddick