A/N: I almost daren't show my face. Especially after I saw how long it has been since I last updated this. So please forgive me. It was a combination of unfortunate events, a large part of which was that I realised that I was already five chapters and countless thousands of words into my story without my main characters even meeting, let alone sharing a scene!
So I thought, right this chapter will be it, this is when they meet. Well , you will see for yourself eventually what happened to that little idea.
In this chapter we explore how little Richard B Riddick became one of the most feared men in the galaxy. This presents a bit of a problem. We all know what Riddick is like. He distrusts pretty much everyone and it could even be argued that he hates the rest of humanity. The question is why. I don't want to go down the cliché road of him being tortured and abused as a child, cause I think that is too easy. If some of my developments start sounding similar to Jayne's progression in 'Let sleeping mercenaries lie' then I apologise in advance. This is not meant as an infringement, there just aren't that many different ways to go about this.
Another reason why this took so long.
Still no end in sight by the way. :)
Oh and a lot of the swearing is in afrikaans. I think it is obvious from context though.
"Come back here you little skelem!" The shopkeeper's rotund face was red with fury. He was too heavy to put up much of a chase, but had to at least try. That had been the third time that week that the little shit had snuck in and stolen bread.
The little figure pelting down the street, two loaves of bread clutched firmly to his chest, ignored him completely, preferring to get away before the do-dos came. R.B. wasn't stopping for nobody. He had friends to get back to and letting that lardass of a baker get hold of him so he could hand him over to the 'thorities wasn't part of the plan.
The others were waiting. They hadn't eaten in a couple of days, but now they could feast.
The loaves of bread were a warm weight against his chest and he made sure not to grip too hard for fear of crumbling his precious cargo before he could get it to safety and the others.
Behind him he could still hear the heavy, off-beat footsteps of the baker, shouting at the top of his lungs to stop the thief. Fortunately he was so out of breath the words were practically unintelligible, Diving into an alley at the last moment RB legged it to the other side and then casually strolled out, not even out of breath. He walked straighter, cap on properly, loaves now tucked under one arm,, for all the world a young boy out on an errand for his mother.
Walking leisurely down the sidewalk, sidestepping around other shoppers and stands, RB slowly began to make his very roundabout way home, where his two mates were no doubt waiting for him.
The three of them were family, or as close to it as you could get on the streets where a life was worth only as much as you had in your pockets and often not even that. Three children, scraping by, avoiding the law, living from one day to the next. RB, JJ and Half-pint. They had circled each other like wild dogs, wary to the last of betrayal. Had eventually found an equilibrium and then a home of sorts.
The capital had many hidden places, whole quarters that had been nigh on destroyed in the wars of the last decades. Often the owners of the sites were simply gone and the survivors had enough to do getting their own homes back in shape, never mind rebuild unclaimed land.
It was a haven not just for RB and his friends. The area teemed with shady life, thieves, robbers, brothels and sweat shops, hidden away in out of the way nooks and crannies unless you knew what you were looking for, or could read the subtle signs.
An abundance of secret passages existed, half broken down houses that led into over-grown back yards and more houses. Once you made it this far, no-body would find you unless you wanted them to.
Nevertheless just to be on the safe side RB backtracked a few times, walking in decreasing circles, along the tops of the walls and through gardens, all the while getting closer and closer to the former cultural centre of the city, the old theatre.
The formerly magnificent domed building now rose above the ruins like an aged doyenne raising her skirts to avoid soiling them with mud.
The dome had long since crashed in upon itself, leaving the former auditorium and stage open to the elements. The lead tiles had been stolen from the rest of her roof, letting rain in and other things. It was dank and dark, borderline dangerous, but it was home to RB and his friends.
Inside the back levels of the theatre it was dark, the odd glimmer of light working its way through chinks in the boarded up windows, only serving to highlight the abyssal atmosphere instead of lighten it. The massive room, used to store props in the glory days, was now full of junk, stacked to the ceiling with boxes and boxes of costumes, wigs, dried and cracked make-up. In between old sets shoved in odd corners, there was the head of a papier-mâché dragon, eyes glinting a dull purple in the gloom.
RB picked his way past the obstacles with near-blind confidence, walking past the odds and ends as if they didn't exist. Rounding a corner a vista suddenly opened before him. Anybody else would have stopped and stared, arrested by the vision of a large gas planet rising behind a sun-drenched landscape, the sun shining almost blindingly from behind, bathing everything in glaring light. And in the shadows of rocks and holes crept barely seen monsters, nature red in tooth and claw.
RB was not so affected, seeing not the terrible beauty but the hours it had taken to get the fracking thing unrolled and put up for the single purpose of slowing any pursuit.
He slipped by it and behind, through a crack hidden in the darkness at the edges. The backdrop was only the first line of defence, the others less flamboyant, better hidden, tripwires and mazes, tunnels and tightropes. RB traversed it all with ease. He never accidentally tripped a trap or missed a turn that would leave you walking in circles until somebody came to get you.
The other two regarded his skills with benevolent envy, his eyesight and sense of balance. Sometimes they wondered what made him different, but mostly they had other things to worry about. Like food.
Deeper and deeper he walked into the maze, ears perked for any noise that didn't belong. Nothing piqued his senses or interest. They were safe. Finally after five more minutes of ducking and dodging he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally, for somebody had lit a single candle and placed it in the middle of their slightly ramshackle table.
RB felt warmth burst in him. Today was a good day. They had food, warmth and shelter. What more did a boy need?
The sun shone down brilliantly from the blue skies far above, illuminating every last corner of the canyon, highlighting in shades of white the yellows, oranges and browns of the rock walls and floor.
It was noon and there was nowhere for the little lizard to hide. It had been patiently stalked by the bird for the last hour as it darted from rock to rock, oblivious to the predator on its tracks. All the bird had to do was wait, wait for the lizard to come close enough that it could catch it in its sharp beak. Dimly the bird was aware that it did this because it had four chicks waiting for it in their nest high on the cliff face and that lizards made better food than the little moths and ants that were much more abundant. Of course the bird didn't think in these terms, it simply saw a moving shape that fit the prey schemata in its head and acted accordingly.
Beady black eyes watched as the little green lizard darted forward another few steps, now almost close enough to be caught. The bird quivered with anticipation, forcibly restraining itself of darting forward while the lizard was so close to shelter.
Another step, and another brought the lizard ever closer to its doom. The bird was coiling in on itself as it prepared to lunge, when there was first the hard clap of displaced air and then the thump of a body on stone.
The lizard scuttled back into the shelter of the rock face, disappearing down a crack and the bird squawked in shocked displeasure as it fluttered up and settled on a protruding ledge, chattering its displeasure to the uncaring air.
Minutes progressed with nothing else happening. The body did not move and slowly the tantalising odour of blood permeated the air of the canyon with its sickly sweet smell.
The bird cocked its head to the side. Dead meat was a rich source of protein and already it would be calling in scavengers from miles around. Gaze darting from sky to ground to meat, it catiously moved forward. Hop by hop it came closer.
A low groan emerged and the bird flew off again, to come to rest on a nearby bush, closer than before. It watched as small glitters sparkled to life around the body, and it slowly, haltingly rose into the air and disappeared in the cliff face.
RB entered their haven quietly, wanting to surprise the other two with his good news. Two loaves of good bread would last them several days. And Half-pint really needed the food, he was only seven, skittish and shy, never saying what had made him run away from home at the age of barely six. RB had a good idea what it had been that had made him run like the hounds of hell were after him. There was only one thing that made a kid that skittish around adults, men in particular.
As he walked towards the light, RB could just see JJ, the third member of their little family. The boy was around 15 and taller in a gangly way. Blond hair framed a round face with piercing blue eyes. He too had run away from a home where the men were just a little too touchy-feely, but where it had made Half-pint shy and skittish, it had turned JJ hard and brittle, ready to crack at any moment. Slightly worrying to RB, but they needed somebody older who could help deal with anybody who tried to come take over their home.
RB threw off his worries, there was nothing he could do about it now anyway, and they had food! Much more important. If JJ really was loosing it, then he would take Half-pint and relocate. There were other places to hide in the city. He rounded the last corner and say JJ sitting at the table in the light of the candle, his back to him.
"Guess what I got, JJ. Man, Darblass was so slow today, like a pottamus, lumbering along. Got two loaves of bread from him and none of that brown shit, this is the real white…." RB trailed off, as he came fully into the room. JJ wasn't alone. About seven burly men were standing in the shadows and corners of the room where they weren't immediately apparent.
Instinctively RB turned in a whirl, bread falling to the floor forgotten, intent on finding Half-pint and getting the hell out of there. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder before he could make a run for it and though he scratched and bit, there was no way he could hold his own against grown men. In next to no time he was trussed up like a grackle-bird for roasting, unable to move or make a sound.
"This is not what you promised us. A scrawny boy instead of what we came for."
RB blinked. What the hell was the goon talking about.
JJ lifted his head, eyes bleary and unfocused in a way only first-grade helldust could make it. RB felt sickened inside, feeling like he should have known JJ was taking to more than the occasional booze to forget his past.
"I told you, he's coming. Likes to watch the sundown on the roof."
As soon as he realised who the thugs were looking for, RB went wild, screaming futilely into his gag and rocking around the floor as he raged against his bonds. A blinding sharp pain to his head and he fell into darkness.
The cave had been a contingency plan. Heavily warded it lay in the depths of the Grand Canyon on the former American Continent. At the time of its conception, Willow and her coven had simply wanted to create a safe house for the Scoobies. Somewhere they could go if the worst came to the worst. They had borrowed heavily from various books of the time, making it unpalatable for all known forms of magic. It had an ignore me spell in place, even knowing where it was, it could take three tries to make it inside.
Unless of course you had one of the original ward stones keyed to the detection spell.
It had hung, forgotten, around Buffy's neck for centuries, until the time when she had truly needed it and triggered the spell that delivered you straight to the front door.
Buffy of course had been unceremoniously dropped just outside the entrance, her wounds too extensive for her to be anything but blessedly unconscious and completely unable to drag herself inside where there was shelter and aid to be had.
Provisions for cases such as this had been made, too, though and the old spells kicked in, transporting her body safely and slowly inside, laying her to rest on the stone slab that sat in the centre of the cave.
The cave had been well chosen, Xander's extensive knowledge of building and foundations coming in handy, as he searched for a site that would withstand the pressures of time. An effort he redoubled once it became apparent what side effects Willow's resurrection spell had had on the lead slayer.
Maybe it had been guilt for his part in the whole thing, or maybe just a friend looking out for another. Whatever it had been, in the end, he had found what they had all been looking for.
In this place, where solid granite had welled up from the earth's core, providing a massive outcropping, that the Colorado river had only been able to find away around and then relegate to a forgotten side canyon of the main system. It was more than thirty feet above the river itself, well above the height of normal floods and if the waters rose too high ,then the spells in place were well able to mimic solid rock, so that the installation itself remained uncompromised. No one would ever say that Willow did anything but give her best.
In the interest of posterity and longevity, the interior was minimalist, choosing stone over less durable material, the tables and beds rising from the stone floor as if grown that way. It was Spartan, but served its purpose.
Or did at one point in the past anyway, now long years of disuse has eroded the spells Willow had so carefully crafted into the walls of the cave. Slowly but surely over the centuries, their effectiveness deteriorated, until the time came when the slayer was dropped into the middle of them and they were required to do what Willow had asked of them to do. Save her life.
And they did.
It was only moments later that RB came to slowly to the sound of petrified screaming. He felt muzzy and dizzy, eyes blurred, but widening, when he realised that in the meantime Half-pint had come down from wherever he liked to hide during the day, one skinny, white arm now in the firm grip of the man RB liked to think of as thug number one.
With a pop sound came back just in time for the head guy to say: "Let's see if it really is who you say it is."
Half-pint's screams took on a new, different note of fear, but his struggles were in vain as the man ruthlessly tore away his clothes and two things became apparent. He was a she, and the tattoo on her hip marked her as a member of the highest levels of society.
The head guy made a mocking bow, placing his jacket over the girl's shoulders as he spoke: "Right honour to meet you, Persephone Alassia von Schleyer. Your father has missed you and is most anxious you be returned to his tender and above all loving care."
At his words Half-pint, no Persephone, slumped in on herself, all fight gone from her body.
RB could only watch as Persephone was bundled up further and carried out of the door.
The head guy turned to JJ and now that RB was able to, he saw the things he should have noticed right at the beginning. Like the fact that the head guy was very well dressed for some random thug off the street and that there were insignia on his sleeve that marked him as a member of the government.
He watched with avid eyes, taking in every detail, as the man, distaste evident in every line of his body, threw a moneybag on the table that clinked with the heavy sound of platinum.
"There you go. Finders fee, as promised. We'll take the other one as well. Drop him off at juvenile hall."
He stepped back and waved for one of the remaining men to pick up RB.
The boy grunted as he was thrown over one hard shoulder, the grinned ferally as the move knocked his gag loose and he could spit it out.
"I'm going to waste you JJ. Just you wait and see. D'you hear me? Waste you!"
The men laughed at the rage vibrating through so small a body. One of them gave him a hard cuff round the ear that had him seeing stars and then he was carried off, leaving JJ behind in his little circle of light.
Ten years later RB walked out of juvenile hall in time to hear that the governor's beloved daughter Persephone had thrown herself from her bedroom window on the eve of her sixteenth birthday. Scandal had it that she had been in the family way at the time.
JJ, last anybody had heard, had joined the military and was known as Lieutenant Johns by then.
Buffy slept in peace as the decades passed, the spells slowly working their way through her body, aiding her slayer psyche in healing the many grievous wounds inflicted on her body.
There she lay in limbo, a space age sleeping beauty as time passed around her and galaxies away the last scion of her line grew to manhood.