Dehctiws
Abby Ebon
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Disclaimer: I think we all know the answers to this by now…but whatever, I do not own Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. Pitch Black or Harry Potter….-sniffs-… I'm gonna go cuddle with me Kots now….
AN: -gulps- Um, well, I'm sorry, very sorry, about corrections last night; but at least you got a very long chapter out of it. For those of you who wanted to bash me over the head…I think it worked, I had a hell of a headache this morning…considering I stayed up till 3/4 AM writing that out (blame Riddick thinking the word 'cute' on that- but as I fear the repercussions, the authoress shall not correct such ooc-Riddick thinking…-twitches- ….yet…torturous Fay/Fry…couldn't stop myself…) and fireworks are evil, kept me up all night... So here is a deal; authoress behaves, writes +2 chapters today; and no-more sending authoress evil headaches, aye?
'Kay then…here we go!
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-Harry's POV-
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The spirals are crumbling, falling from within- I shudder, I'm one of the few who knows what lies inside that place. Riddick takes on last look at them; he pushes down his goggles, I know what he sees with his silver eyes. I can tell he is in awe of them. They are the perfect night predators, with sleek hardened shells, hammer-headed - as deadly as a river of razor blades.
"What is it? What's happening?" Fry questions him urgently, seeing where he's eyes are, Riddick smiles a not so nice smile even as they launch into the sky, gliding, sounding out, searching…."Like I said. Ain't me you gotta worry about." Riddick says as he turns from the sight, going into the cargo hold, the others follow. I shudder, turning away as the giant planet passes completely in front of the suns, turning the world to night.
They close the vault-like door, huddled close together like terrified caveman near a fire, perhaps this is the only safe place left on the entire world. Riddick sits behind me, and 'Jack' to the side, I can smell and sense how much Shazza's death has disturbed them.
"What if…what if she's still out there…still alive?" Xander asks disturbed, I lean my shoulder on him, comfortingly. Johns turns to face 'him'. "Well, I don't want to jump to conclusions here…but 'member that boneyard? These just might be the fuckers that killed every other living thing on this planet, okay? Chances of Shazza knockin' on that door anytime soon are just about zero squared." Johns predicts grimly, the crust fallen look on Xan's face makes me want to kill him.
Riddick glances at me, a warning, Riddick feels what I do, and feels the same way. If he lets himself he just might kill Johns because he's bein' annoying. Fry, of course, just has to agree with him.
"I saw the cut-marks on the bones. Wasn't a natural die-off." Oh, so now you're a 'captain' and an 'anthropologist' Fry- my, aren't we talented. "Quite, please. Everyone." Imam requests, silencing them just in time for us to hear a clicking sweep past the outside of the cargo hold.
"Why do they do that? Make that sound?" Xander asks in a whisper, I almost wish he hadn't… "Perhaps that is the way they see. With sound, reflecting back." Imam offers, Riddick grunts in agreement. Fry, of course, must add her two cents.
"Echolocation. That's what it is…." Or, they may be trying, and succeeding, in scaring the shit out of us. Clicks emerge from behind us, lights swings in that direction; nothing. Riddick and I could have told them that there wasn't anything there now. We weren't looking a minute ago. They look back at her, expecting an answer.
"Breach in the hull. I don't know." Well, at least you're admitting you don't know much now. They look to Johns now, expecting him to check it out. I shake my head. "I'd rather piss glass." Johns tells them firmly. "Well, you got the big gauge." Riddick says to him, looking down at the shotgun; Johns narrows his eyes. "Wanna rag your fat mouth?" Johns retorts, Riddick smirks.
"Maybe it's just their beads again. Imam, are you still—" Xander interrupts, before Riddick can urge him on. He is referring to their prayer beads…"No, no, no, I do not believe –" Imam starts; Johns interrupts. "C'mon, man, you're drivin' everyone bugfuck with those things. Why don't you just lose the goddamn –"
A crash echoes through the cargo hold, crates have been toppled over. Riddick and Xander glance at me, hoping for the explanation of accidental magic, in my condition I'd be lucky to keep this glamour up on Xander and my self for a few more hours. No way could I do accidental magic. That means…
"Big beads." Riddick purrs, Johns flinches, glaring at him. Gathering what he calls courage, Johns sucks on his breather, and shimmies toward the noise …the open container.
Leading with his shotgun, he fires blindly around the corner. Something, a hatchling, squeals, then silence. He eases foreword, peering behind the corner, a few dead hatchlings- small.
"Okay, we're okay. Just some small ones that musta…" Something whooshes overhead, toward his head, swinging down on him like a scythe. It catches the shotgun, discharges it- a flash of light, the after image of an adult predator burned into our retinas. In less time it takes to sneeze, Johns is standing among the rest of us, clustered together like peas.
"Very big beads." Johns confirms - Riddick nods. It's possibly the first time my mate has ever truly agreed with the merc. I hope Johns treasures it. "Not staying in here another…" Paris, panicked, rushes to the latch, prepared to open it. Fry lunges for him, knocking him off balance; he is stopped - for the moment.
"Christ, you don't know what's out there!" He does actually, but he is too far gone with fear to care. He'd rather flee into the night filled with monsters then be locked in with them- a very poor choice.
"I know what's in here!" Paris exclaims, looking for others who agree with him. His eyes catch mine, I feel as if I'm expected to say something, I do, though it's probably not what he hoped for.
"Out there they have the advantage over you." I warn, he pales, considering my chilling words, rather then his panicked actions. "Everyone come, this way and we should be safe. Hurry please…" Imam says, interrupting Fry before she can retort to my words. He shepherds us toward a container; the shelters keep getting smaller and smaller, for a moment I'm glad I don't have wings; it's cramped enough in here.
I listen, the hiss of their sucking on the breathers, then small scratches against the container. I hear Paris gasp, smell the fear, the animal-like scent, cloying. The Neko stirs, now for sex… I look to Riddick, his hands are twisted into fists, and he's breathing through his mouth, trying not to smell them- or me. I take control, promising that when this is over it'll have al the sex it can take, I feel Riddick's agreement, the Neko curls back into a ball- ignorable, for now.
Johns fumbles for a cutting-torch, gets it burning, adjusts the gases to get it burning, I close my eyes. While Riddick avoids looking at it directly, scythe-like blades probe the joints of the container. Then, suddenly, heavy blows reign down on it. We gather close together, as far as we can get from the walls. A scythe-blade hisses down in front of me, blood leaks from my cheek.
"Can you do sumein' else with that? 'Sides holding it in my fucking face?" Riddick suddenly barks at Johns, taking the not-so-subtle hint Johns starts cutting between the containers, to get to the other one. It's another race; this one Riddick can't help him with, between what's going to try to kill us, and human technology.
Johns cuts through, and kicks the make-shift escape hatch down, Xander is quick to speed-crawl though. The first container is quick to be shredded by them. All of us escape, barely. It seems to never end, this constant race- Johns burning through to a new container, the creatures hunting us, stabbing scythes down in hope for our blood.
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-Riddick's POV-
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Johns is still torching away, I'm pretty sure this is fifth container; Fay and Paris are using the cargo to block the creatures. A good knock push's them back, Xander urges Johns on- and Harry and I add our weight to the cargo. I smell them, the shadow-creatures. Their blood I got a whiff of it when Johns killing the younglings. Pepper-shot, from a shot gun, litters the floor.
Tense, I give Harry the impression of what I suspect- we're back were we started. I see his eyes widen, and I move away from them, searching to see if I'm right.
"Hello, hello?" Paris calls out- angry, I don't stop and go back. Sorry 'watch-out-wannabe' I've got to see to something. I move in front of a container where darkness and shadow prevail. I step on something wet. Slowly I ease off my goggles, sure enough; dead hatchlings linger on the floor; I was right this is it- the open corridor, where Johns found the shadow-creatures.
Something moves.
I look up, lifting my face to see an adolescent; it squats atop cargo, munching on a hatchling. A heavy bone blade- the scythe, the look-like of a hammerhead, crowns its scull.
It senses its being watched, and lifts its head, sweeping the area with soft and high-pitched clicks. A crude intelligence echoes in its eyes. All but my mate are oblivious to this meeting of predators, of night-killers.
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