Dehctiws
Abby Ebon
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Disclaimer: Don't own anything – not Buffy, not Harry Potter, not Pitch Black or Chronicles of Riddick.
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-Harry's POV-
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The impressions I get of Crematoria from Riddick are none too pleasant, they rival the night-creatures world.
That impression does not change much when I wake with the words; "All right. I make 700 degrees on the day side, 300 degrees below on the night side." One of them, the female, tells the rest.
Nor does the sight of a planet far too close to a sun reassure one, after words like those.
"Let's not get caught in the sun." Another merc says, looking tense.
"If I owned this place and hell, I'd rent this place out and live in hell." The man, Toombs, tells the rest.
"Blue angle...good." The computer echoes – every time it does it sends a jolt down my spine, and I am reminded that on my world, magic and technology never mixed well together.
"Stand by…And..?" He trails off; waiting for the computers input there was a pause. Then, finally – an answer, even if isn't the one I would have preferred.
"Plotted course good." The computer chirps, I notice Riddick tighten his hold on the bulkhead and follow his lead – something, likely that skirmish feeling in my gut, tells me I won't like this very much.
"Hit it!" Toombs yells, and they accelerate steeply into the plants atmosphere.
"Angle of approach, not good." The computer states, rather like a worried parent. "Look, Ma. No hands!" One of the men shouts – and is foolish enough to do so, we are going to fast – that is, if they enter to enter that hanger not crash into it.
"Party poppers!" Toombs yells, and they hit a red button, I can feel the release in the hatch, and then the heat of engines on our back – but we slow, and brake to a stop.
"I think I shit myself." One of them mutters – pale, oddly it's the one that said 'no hands' I find myself gleeful that he did, indeed, regret his actions.
"Skittish, Toombs. Very skittish." Riddick mutters from beside me, they shackle us together on the sled so I lay beside him. One of them sitting on Riddick - I notice his foot taping to some unheard scale, and the man sitting on him sucks on his fingers and rubs them onto Riddick's goggles, I bite back a growl.
"When the ride's over, your goggles are mine." The man tells him – Riddick lets him think so for a few moments, then arches, sending the man into a light fixture in the tunnel.
"Comry?" One of them turns to look – only to see Riddick shrug in a 'innocent who, me?' gesture.
"Four-way split!" Toombs exclaims as he nudges one of the guys – I find myself rolling my eyes, Riddick smirks.
"29.4 kilometers." Riddick whispers to me as we come to a stop. They get him up in time to see the warden approach, his spits – then glances at Riddick, something tells me he is more worried then he shows.
"So, this is Riddick…"
"What in the bowels of Christ are you talkin' about, 700 K?" Toombs growls as he stops the crank lowering Riddick down into 'the pit', I'm 'harmless' and being kept as 'compensation' Riddick does as Toombs wants.
"Don't take this one, boss." A man says as he lifts weights, I glance at the woman – she rolls her eyes.
"See? Anatoli here has a nose for trouble. And this one, this Riddick guy...Big, big trouble." The warden says absently, then continues; "So, 700 thousand is good money." The warden says – Toombs looks hesitant.
"I'd take the money, Toombs." Riddick's voice warns as it echoes up from the depths.
"The guild pays us a caretaker's fee for each prisoner each year. We pay mercs a percent of that total fee based on a certain life expectancy." The warden tells him, a grim look in his eye.
"How's about this? You open that safe you got hidden behind the console there, show me the real books, then we figure out my cut. Then I'll be on my way." Toombs says instead, lowering the crank that lowers Riddick, and turning to the warden.
"Open my books. This is what you suggest?" The warden asks as he turns his attention to pouring something into a glass.
"Wasn't a suggestion." Toombs growls.
"These are dangerous days, if you believe the talk." The warden speaks again, changing the subject, keeping Toombs on his toes.
"Talk?" Toombs inquires with a grunt.
"About dead planets; about some ghost army; about them." The warden says, waiting for a reaction – its not one he expects, that I can read from his body language, but then, he didn't expect them to yank me up and put me in chains in their office like a pet.
"'Them'?" Toombs scoffs, sneering.
"I'll run the numbers again. It takes a couple of days, probably, so you can stay as my guest. At least here, we are all safe. Yes?" The warden says, turning to one of his men.
"Yes, boss." He echoes. Why do I get the feeling the man acts like a puppet master for these people?
"I'll give it a day. One." Toombs tells him, holding up one finger as if to clarify – as if the rest of them can't count.
I close my eyes – for there is nothing I want to see up here.
I listen as Riddick, near the bottom of the pit, stops, as four 'miners' take notice as he pulls himself up, rolling up the chain until he lets go and drops – the chain snapping off from the tension.
I hear those miners attack, and then – then I hear Riddick's heart beat increase, he's spotted Xander – good, now there is no reason to get out of here as soon as possible.
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-Riddick's POV-
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They are surprised when the chain snaps off.
I could laugh when they start to attack, picking fights they can't win – but desperate to get one up on the others in the pecking order. They'll learn soon enough who the better killer is.
Just when I think I've finished off the last of them – a chain snaps out, I glimpse the mans body as it's snapped from the neck – then follow the dragging chain to …Xander, oh, it doesn't look like 'her', but the smell – of leather, sweat, and something deeply primal – that is Xander.
So, this is what Xander looks like male and properly aged. I could lick my lips as I take in the sight of him, sweat beads against his brow – and his dark hair ruffled, tangled, and pulled into a short pony tail.
Lean muscles – only visible because of the tank top, bunch and relax as he wraps the chain up around his arm and shoulder. Sweat and dirt slick the tank top, having it stick to him in a delightfully arousing way.
A belt of tools hangs low on his waist, dragging the baggy pants down low on his hips, leaving a peek of his stomach and a dusting of hair that trails into his pants. Baggy as the pants are they can't hide his firm thighs and tight ass, even his boots look as good as sin on him.
It has been far too long…
Yet…He doesn't seem to care to see me.
He stands and makes his way past me, and before I can follow I am interrupted by a man who likely thinks himself king here.
"There are inmates... and there are convicts. A convict has a certain code. And he knows to show a certain respect. An inmate, on the other hand, pulls the pin on his fellow man. Does the guards 'work for them - brings shame to the game." The 'king' tells me, even as he makes his way over a man, who moans as he is stepped over and kicked away. He pauses a few feet away from me, taking in the sight of me.
"So, which are you gonna be?" He tilts his head, and some who had cheered for him quite down, I can tell he expects an answer – well I have one for him, but it won't be the one he expects.
"Me? I'm just passin' through." I murmur my eyes on where Xander disappeared to, and alike to a siren call – I follow the scent of him, going past the man – who looks on, amused.
"Welcome to Crematoria." I hear him murmur from just behind me.
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-Xander's POV-
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Haven't seen him for years, still does something for me. Tall and muscular, his athletic build a natural attribute. His eyes got whiter - milkier around the pupil – less silvery, looks more like he's blind, but I know from experience that he is anything but.
I glimpse him from behind as he moves to my cell, his pose – like a predator hunting his prey, or, in this case, a mate.
I'm surprised as he is when I press the scissor-like blades into his back.
"Should I go for the sweet spot?" I purr into his ear, licking the edge of it, he glances behind at me – somewhat amused, yet also approving. That just pisses me off. "Left of the spine, fourth lumbar down, the abdominal aorta." I push the blades in harder, my hardening length rubbing against his hip. "What a gusher." He mutters and I grin despite myself.
"How do I get eyes like that?" I ask, like it's a game – a check point, and in a way it is; at least, between us. "You gotta kill a few people." He tells me in husky undertone – sending shivers up my spine.
"Did that." I can't help but chuckle, biter – resenting. He still treats me like the helpless child he saw on the planet from my nightmares. "Did a lot of that." I see him frown, and narrow his eyes. He senses the change between us.
"And then you gotta get sent to a slam. One where they tell you you'll never see daylight again? Only there wasn't any doctor here who could shine my eyes, not even for 20 menthol Kools. Was there anything you said that was true?" I mutter, pressing the weapon harder into his back, he growls warningly.
Then takes control, and I don't find myself minding when I'm slammed into the cage bars, his arm underneath me, the only thing holding me up – holding him up to look into those chilling eyes of his.
"What are you gonna do, huh? Go for the sweet spot?" I hiss, resentful, even as he presses in closer, smelling my neck, licking the back of my ear. "Remember who
you're talkin' to, Jack." It was a nick-name after we left that word – one that let them acknowledge I wasn't quite myself, at least – not then.
"Jack's dead. She was weak." Now, I am myself – and a little of the hyena, I snarl and jerk away from him, to the railing and the walkways. Leaning on them, I answer his surprised expression.
"She couldn't cut it. The name's Kyra now. And I'm a new animal." I jump off the railing, letting myself a short distance till I hit a walkway. I shiver as I remember the feeling of his hand and fingers against my ass and balls – I wonder what he'll do, then jerk as I hear the cages being opened, and the clank of the cable overhead as it lets the wardens down.
"Feeding time!" One of the wardens yells unnecessarily. I scatter with the rest as the beasts appear – diving off the landing just before it can get its claws into me. It just goes to show – never look a beast in the eye unless you are its equal.