Act 2

Summery/Disclaimer: This part of the story takes place during the end and after the Chronicles of Riddick. Lovers of Jack/Kyra/Riddick please don't shoot me. puts hands over her head waiting for a screaming mob to pelt her with large stones As usual I have taken creative license with the story, warped it just a little and used I for my own selfish story telling purposes. Don't jump up and down or scream if the story doesn't follow the book/movie exactly. You have been forewarned.

As always, I don't own Jack/ Caroline/ Riddick, the Necro's or any of the other characters from the Riddick/Pitch Black universe. Wylie is mine and mine alone. My little brain child.

Also, once again thanks to everyone out there who gave me the confidence to do this.

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You keep what you kill. The words rang hollow in Riddick's ears.

Riddick stared out into the Necro throne room looking at all the supplicated, bowing heads. The room seemed cold and empty, lifeless. Just like Jacks body lying at the foot of his throne.

My throne, mine. It's not fuckin' worth it. I'd shove it down their fuckin' throats if it would bring Jack back for one minute.

He threw back his head and laughed bitterly, looking out into the crowd noting all the fearful eyes that looked his way with out moving their heads.

And I thought I was gonna' be the one who eventually killed off all the people I cared about. Every one is gone. Teaches me to get attached to fuckin' people. When I do they all die. Funny sometimes I wish it were me instead. God, you fuck. Why not me? I failed all of you. Caroline, Imam, Wylie, Jack. Every fuckin' one of you.

He moved his eyes down to Jacks ruined body and swallowed past a bellow of rage in his throat. He could feel the waves of hot anger clawing right behind his lips to be let out. His hands still tingled with Jacks fading warmth. His mind clung to the memory of curling her in his hands. At the look of fear in her eyes. His mind flashed to the young girl imitating him on that shit hole of a planet they crashed on. How her eyes shone up at him with adoration. Riddick looked down disgusted and wiped his hands on the arms of the throne.

Her eyes are closed for fuckin' ever now. Kid, I told you it wasn't safe with me. I told you all it wasn't safe.

Riddicks anger was swiftly building in him. He gripped the arms of the metal throne squeezing into them. The metal whined under the duress.

Why in the fuck couldn't you listen to me? Why in the fuck couldn't you stay away? Now you're ghosted. A useless pile of flesh.

The anger, hate, and anguish poured out of Riddicks mouth in a primal roar. He stood from the throne and grabbed the bench of the metal chair. The muscles in his large back strained as he wrenched the symbol of Necromonger rulership up off its dais and flung it into the group of kneeling supplicants. He turned hearing the shriek of people who were not fast enough to get out of the crushing weight of the throne.

"Lord Marshall, Lord Marshall, where are you going?" A quiet voice from behind Riddick asked as he paced through the crowd of still groveling people.

Riddick turned quickly on the little voice. He let the heat of his anger shine in his eyes.

"Leave me the .Fuck. Alone."

The smaller man at least was smart enough to step back.

"But, but, sir. I-I need to show you your quarters. The ship. You must get fitted with proper military regalia. You need to give you're people direction."

"My people?" He bellowed; pointing a finger into the middle of the smaller mans chest almost toppling him over. "The last of "my people" are lying dead at the foot of that throne back there." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and looked down to the little man. "You're people did that."

"Sir, with all respect. They are you're people now."

"What's you're name? Little man." Riddick asked angrily as he kept walking away from the throne room.

"Drysis. Sir." He said meekly.

"Drysis," Riddick growled out quickly turning on the man trailing in his footsteps.

"When I tell you to leave me the fuck alone I mean it." Riddicks massive hands wrapped in the material on the front of the robes Drysis was wearing; lifting him off his feet. Riddicks voice dropped an octave. He spoke very slowly. "Where are my quarters?"

Drysis swallowed convulsively and pointed.

"Good." The word sounded guttural coming from Riddicks full lips.

"Listen closely Drysis. I'll only say this once. Make sure you pay attention because if anyone fucks this up I will personally ghost them myself. Take Jacks body. Casket it. Or whatever you do. I don't want her fucked with. I don't want her tampered with. Take it to where you're people keep their dead and give her a place of honor."

"B-But, Sir. Lord Marshall, Um. I." Riddick cut him off with a look. He shook him violently causing his dangling feet to sway drunkenly.

"I want you to give her a place of honor. I want you to do it now. Do you understand?"

Drysis nodded so violently Riddick thought his head would fall off. "Lord Marshall. What of the units on the face of Helion Prime?"

"Pull them off. Have them come back to the ship." Riddick released Dysis suddenly, causing him to slide down the wall. He turned just as quickly and moved off in the direction of his quarters.

"Sir?" Drysis called out cautiously. His eyes followed Riddicks large frame silhouetted in the floor lights of the ships hall.

Riddick didn't turn, but Drysis heard his growling voice. "Leave me alone Drysis."

"Yes sir." Drysis said quietly and turned as he shook his head; he knew the chaos the burial of the young girl was going to cause. Especially when they found out where the new Lord Marshall wanted her buried. Burial on the ship was reserved only for past Lord Marshal's. So that the people could go and gain courage from their inspired rules. The marshal's mates were not even buried with them. The thought of placing a traitor in their midst would not sit well with the public. Some days he hated his station.

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Her skin was peeling off her as she looked down. It was falling into roped heaps reveling flashes of cream colored bone beneath. She writhed in anguish feeling the fever burn through her with ravenous speed.

"Now you will join me." A gurgling voice stated behind her.

She swiveled her head feeling the vertebra in her neck pop from the lack of moisture in her body as she did so.

Rozemonds skull cackled at her his fish-belly white eyes rolled wetly in his rotting sockets as he laughed. His breath smelled like the grave.

Some things never change. His breath still stinks. If I'm dead this really fuckin' sucks. I'm still stuck with this asshole.

Rozemonds skeletal hand reached for her shoulder. Wylie could see the strips of dried flesh flutter like paper as he moved his hand to her. She stepped back instinctively. A scream locked stubbornly behind her parched lips.

She woke with a start feeling the perspiration cooling on her already. Her dreams were always the same. Like always she woke before Rozemond had a chance to touch her. She groaned as she swung her feet off the edge of the bunk she was on. Her bare feet touched the floor with a quiet thunk.

It had been three weeks since the trawler Tucana had found her own ship floating in the lanes. After attempting to contact the ship several times the twelve man crew had decided that the ship was abandoned and pulled her in. She could still remember the light from the inside of the ship flooding her eyes. Her panic as they picked her up and took her into the ships med lab.

When she had woke several days later to the sound of the beeps and whines of the medical equipment she saw a large, dark man at the foot of the bed who had introduced himself as Captain Cordin. He proceeded to fill her in about the state of herself and the ship when they had pulled it in. Wylie had tried to speak to tell him of the plague and how contagious it was. The captain would hear nothing of it. He shook his head at her feeble attempts at communication and pointed out to her that they had already run a battery of diagnostics on her and yes, that they were aware that she had come in contact with Graco plague. He questioned her briefly on other things and then in a kind but stern voice had ordered her to sleep.

Wylie popped her neck and grabbed her grease stained jumper off the peg that it hung on. She sat back on the bed pulling it up around her legs. She looked down to her body with unease. The injuries from the plasma gun coupled with the effects of the flesh-eating Graco plague had caused her skin to mend at almost a human rate of speed. Wylie shook her head. The only way she had survived was the "gift" her dad had programmed into her. The plague had not been able to burrow its way deep into her tissue because of the accelerated speed in which her skin healed. Unfortunately the plague had used up her resources when it came to healing, leaving holes in her memory from the fever that ran unchecked for days and a few new scars to add to her collection. She ran her hands over her thighs and stomach feeling the scars that couldn't be seen under the skin as well. After waking up in the med-lab she had noted the feel of her body had changed as well. The skin was still pale, soft and supple. The layers underneath that felt like steel bands stretched tightly. Almost like velvet laid over a rock.

Days after that when she had finally convinced the captain that she could be useful she was working underneath one of the ships when a mechanic had dropped a large piece of steel he was using too patch a hole in the hull of one of the ships. The razor edge of the metal brushed over the muscle of her forearm. She had winced knowing the cut would be deep. Looking at her arm she had found nothing there, as if the skin had become a scarred tough hide that was resistant to cuts. Similar experimentation had the same results.

Dragging the zipper up the front she grabbed her long hair from underneath the collar of the uniform. She had been helping the crews repair some of the ships that they had hauled in. Working as a mechanic would not have been her first choice of careers but, she felt indebted to captain "c" as he liked to be called; for taking a risk and bringing her on his ship. The work was hard, menial and tiresome, but it helped her regain a lot of the strength she had lost.

Wylie finished zipping up the jumper and walked out of her cabin.

She rounded to corner looking into the galley seeing that C was already at the table reading something and drinking a steaming cup of tea.

"Good to see you're up Wylie." C said in a lilting sing-song accent. C didn't look up from the pages he was reading.

"I need you to go down and help Tommy and Rook put the gravity simulator in that piece of shit we hauled in yesterday. I want it ready in two days. Were gonna' drop it off to a buyer on Helion Prime."

"Helion Prime?"

The reports had come across the comm and through the mass media. Helion Prime had been the latest target in a series of brutal planetary takeovers by a group calling themselves Necromongers. According to the latest reports for some unknown reason the forces had pulled back and all hostilities had ceased.

Leave it to C to figure out some way to make money off this.

"Yes silly girl. I didn't stutter. There are a lot of people down there needing new ships and repairs. That is the business I'm in."

Wylie turned to march out the door.

"Wylie?"

"Yeah C?"

"I see you finally took my advice and braided all that long hair of yours to keep it out of your face. It looks good. "

Wylie ran her fingers through the myriad of tiny braids hinging from her scalp. "Thanks." She grumbled as she walked down the hall.

She laughed quietly to herself, she liked it here. The guys gave her a minimum of shit and didn't ask questions. C for all his grumpiness and bellyaching was a good guy.

Wylie hit the air lock on the garage and walked in. Turning, she grabbed a welding mask and a torch off the wall and walked over to where Tommy and Rook were arguing over the best way to put in a hydraulic pump for the loading door. Wylie rolled her eyes. It was gonna' be a long day.

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Halfway across the galaxy Riddick pushed his frame back onto a large if uncomfortable bed. He closed his eyes willing the sleep that had eluded him for the past days to come. He moved his steely forearm over his goggled eyes trying to block out the dim light to the room.

You are not with me jack. You're not here at all. You were supposed to be strong. Instead you let me down kid. Went and got yourself ghosted. And for what kid? For me. Don't you know it should have been you. It shoulda' been you that lived. Not me. Not me. Now I'm here livin' with the ghost of the little girl and that beautiful woman you grew up to be. Livin' with a lota' ghosts lately. All of em' just as bad as the next.

Riddick rolled over trying to get the voice in his head to shut up.

You left me Riddick! A voice in his head yelled. How could you? You dropped me off like baggage at Imam's feet. When all I wanted was to stay with you. And now, I'm dead because of it.

Riddick put his hands over his ears trying to block out the sound of Jack's voice.

"You wanna' piece of me Jack?" Riddick said angrily to the air. "Step in fuckin' line. There's a lot of people in front of ya."

There was a knock at the door.

"I said leave me alone Drysis." Riddick roared.

The little man was really beginning to piss him off.

A dark feminine head peeped into the room.

"Good evening Lord Marshall." A sultry voice said.

Riddick looked at Dame Vaako's form silhouetted in the dim light.

"What?" Riddick asked curtly.

"I thought I could persuade you to change the course of your thoughts from the silly slip of a girl in the throne room." She moved her hands down over the curve of the form-fitting outfit she was in and looked at Riddick from beneath her eyelashes.

"Thought wrong." Riddick ground out.

"Are you sure, Lord Marshall that there is no way I could be of service to you? She asked suggestively.

Riddick thought for a moment, he held Dame Vaako partially responsible for the events that had taken place. He knew why she was here. There was nothing that excited her like power. Riddick reached slightly behind him feeling the handle of his shiv resting comfortingly in the small of his back.

"On second thought." he said lowly. Dame Vaako smiled beatifically and walked towards the bed.

A little blood shed might take his mind off of things after all.