Chapter Four: Animal vs. Angel
When they'd reached the office, Brant stripped and showered without a word, then took off again, leaving Riddick slightly envious. He was aware that Brant had gone to work off some of his aggression, but not at the gym or on the first stupid drunk to pick a fight. He'd gone to the Sunspot, a bar a few blocks away. Most of the drinking customers didn't start filtering in until five, but Brant hadn't gone there to drink. He'd gone there to get laid by one (or two) of the more than willing waitresses. Just because they were willing didn't mean he didn't have to pay, but they obviously had a soft spot for the boy who started out rough but ended gently and tipped well. Riddick would've probably been ten times gentler than Brant, and tipped just as well, but there weren't a lot of girls who'd go to bed with him, no matter how much he paid. His looks alone were enough to deter them from offering him a drink, and the few bar fights he'd engaged in didn't leave much to the imagination about what he could do if provoked. The girls didn't want to be in a room alone with him. So Riddick was left with the few women who were desperate enough for money to do anything, and those were the few he didn't want.
As he stepped into the showers himself, he debated about going back to see the woman or staying in the silent, humid office until Brant came back. If he stayed, the afternoon would be filled with mocking conversation from Brant and the smell of sex permeating the office. The thought alone of the smell drove Riddick to hurry with his shower, dress, and exit the office. The smell of a woman…her sweetness, her spice…it was something Riddick hadn't experienced personally in quite a while. And Brant knew it. Every time he came back from the bar, he made every excuse to pass by Riddick's desk or stand a little closer than usual when they spoke. He must've noticed the small muscle working furiously in Riddick's jaw, because it was the only disturbance in the stoic face, and he played on it.
Jesus, I need a good fuck. Letting his mind linger on the scent of a woman was dangerous. His nerves misinterpreted the signal and his nostrils flared, the ghost scent flooding his senses for a millisecond. Every woman he passed on the street looked good enough to eat, and he found himself unconsciously licking his lips. He was getting more weird looks than usual, and he realized he was staring at a few of them like a ravenous carnivore. A disturbing image flashed through his mind. Hide in the alley…grab one of 'em…fuck 'er six ways from Sunday… Christ! Get a hold of yourself, Riddick! He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. I may be a killer, but I'm not a fucking rapist. He'd never taken an unwilling woman, and he certainly wasn't about to start.
A passer-by struck his shoulder as they rushed by, forcing Riddick to notice where he'd walked himself. Shit… The same apartment building he and Brant had visited only hours earlier. He entertained thoughts of doing some solo surveillance on Wendy, but eventually faced up to his weaknesses. He couldn't be sure that he wouldn't hurt her, not in the frame of mind he was in. He forced his feet to walk away, forced himself to watch the street signs until he came to the place he was looking for.
"Hey big boy…" Riddick grimaced, suddenly not so sure he was where he wanted to be. The scantily clad woman was coming his way. Too late to back out now.
"Charlene…" Riddick growled out the name, knowing it didn't sound at all like a greeting, but also knowing she wouldn't care.
When she wrapped her arms around him, he forced his eyes to roam over her body, not focusing on her face. The layers of carefully applied make-up did nothing for her aged face, and no amount of money could return life to dead eyes.
She pulled him into the smoky bar, signaled to the bartender that she'd be busy, and led Riddick upstairs. As soon as they'd entered an empty room, she shimmied out of her clothes, turned to Riddick, and guided his hand to her breast. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the soft flesh in his hand, mentally pulling out the map he'd made of her body. He knew her pleasure spots, and let his hands roam. No one could ever accuse him of being a selfish lover. After a few minutes of letting his hands reacquaint themselves with her body, Charlene knelt in front of him and unzipped his pants, letting them fall around his ankles. Riddick leaned back against the wall and let her do what she was best at, his arms folded across his chest. Unexpectedly, a familiar face popped into his mind. Deep blue eyes set in a pale, wan face, soft pink lips pulled tight in anger above a slightly pointed chin, a handkerchief set atop silky hair which was admittedly a rather mousy-brown color. At the image, Riddick jerked, and Charlene paused, gazing up at him in confusion.
"Did I hurt you?"
Riddick's answer was non-verbal; instead, he lifted her from the floor and carried her to the bed, dropping her unceremoniously onto the well-worn mattress before peeling off the rest of his clothes. Banishing Wendy from his thoughts, he lost himself in well-rehearsed passion.
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He didn't head back to the office immediately. He wandered through the streets, the high noon suns glinting off his goggles. The most urgent of his needs had been satisfied, although it had ultimately brought up more problems. What was his deal? Why would his twisted mind focus on a girl who was as good as dead? He tried to push the topic out of his mind, but it was persistent as hell. Fine, he thought, the only reason I thought about her was because she looks so much like Jack…no wait! That sounded perverted…I've never thought of Jack like that…Wendy's just on my mind because we saw her today and she's a target…that's all… Riddick wasn't making any progress. Who exactly are you defending yourself to, Riddick? Thought you'd gotten rid of that waste of space conscience after Jack died…
"Shut up…" Riddick growled to himself, earning yet a few more odd looks from fellow pedestrians. The problem was, he didn't want to argue with the animal; he knew it was right. He'd thrown himself into killing after Jack's death, working hard to re-cage the emotions she and Carolyn had unleashed; working hard to rebuild the steel around his heart that their trust had melted. He'd killed as many people in two years as he had in his entire lifetime before the crash, symbolically killing his conscience along with them. Every time a moral dilemma arose, he had to reason with himself. I didn't rape her because rape's no fun, not because it's wrong. I didn't torture him because it takes too long and it's messy, not because it's wrong. And every time he played the reasoning game, the beast within laughed in his face. He had to face it: the shoulder angel had imbedded itself deep within his psyche, and it was going to take more than professional, detached killing to dig it out.
This soul-searching was getting to be a pain in the ass. He was sick of feeling guilty, sick of rehashing the past, sick of restraining the beast. And he had the perfect solution. He'd kill the girl tonight. Not just kill her…he'd destroy her. Put to use every method of pain and degradation that he'd ever learned. A twisted smile parted his lips. And if his fucking conscience was still there when he was done…well then, he'd fucking ghost himself.
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Sunset was approaching. Brant was in the main office, disappointed that Riddick smelled just as strongly of sex as he did. No buttons to push. Riddick sat behind his desk, boots propped up, fingers laced behind his head. Images of what he planned on doing to the girl were flooding his mind, and he didn't bother to push them away. He'd gone over his plan at least fifty times since he'd returned to the office, nailing down every detail. He had a contingency plan for everything. She had a boyfriend living with her? So what. Kill the guy, then play with the girl. She made too much noise, and a neighbor comes knocking? So what. Kill the neighbor, then play with the girl. Cops get called before he has a chance to shut her up? So what? Take the girl, do her somewhere else, then return the body to its residence. The contract said "preferred" to look like a robbery in her home. Not absolutely necessary. And the information about the disk? Hey, if she wanted to offer it up, fine by him, but if not…the pleasure he was going to get out of killing her was a lot more important than 50,000 creds.
"You goin' out tonight?" Brant had his bag slung over his shoulder, ready to leave.
"Maybe. Got some work I need to finish up first. I'll see you tomorrow." Riddick knew that Brant had been on the verge of inviting him out, but he had more important things to attend to.
"All right. Later." Brant was gonna be pissed when he found out Riddick had taken her out. They'd always partnered up for jobs; always split the money down the middle. Hell, Brant can have the money, Riddick thought. But he needed to do this alone.
Twenty minutes later, Riddick was perched on the fire escape outside Wendy's apartment. He had a good view of her bedroom, although the door was closed so he couldn't see any other rooms. He'd ascertained that there was someone in there, but by the pitch of the voice, he knew it wasn't Wendy. He decided to stay outside, unsure of how alert the other person would be to his presence. He had to wait for another hour before he finally heard her arrive. He contemplated entering immediately and killing whoever else was in there, but a few seconds later, he heard the main door close again and the voice was gone.
Wendy entered the bedroom almost immediately. Riddick watched her through the lace curtains, positive that the glare from her lamp would prevent her from seeing anything but her own reflection in the window. She stripped, giving Riddick a glimpse of the body he hoped would keep him entertained for hours later on in the evening, but then quickly pulled on a tank top and shorts. She pulled her hair away from her face and restrained it with a band, then crawled into bed, her body language indicating that she was more than exhausted. When she reached over and turned off the lamp, Riddick pulled away from the window. He waited thirty minutes before cautiously peering in again, hoping she'd be asleep.
When he caught sight of her, adrenaline pulsed through his veins. Her face was relaxed in sleep, no traces of fear or anger present. She looked younger than her twenty years, and he briefly thought that if she could look like that all the time, she might be pretty. Innocent. The word branded itself on his brain, and his hand paused at the window. She's innocent. Whoever took out the contract on her is the bastard that deserves to die. Just fucking look at her, Riddick! She doesn't deserve to die at all, and she certainly doesn't deserve what you've got planned for her. You've killed a lot of people, but you've never killed an innocent. You gonna start now? You gonna prove what a big bad guy you are by killing an innocent girl?
Riddick growled low in his throat. Even his conscience had fucking self-preservation instincts. He tried to block it out, tried to regain the adrenaline that had been flowing so freely just moments before. His hand at the window regained motion, and he began to open it slowly. He'd only gotten it a third of the way open when her bedroom door opened, and he jumped back in surprise. He hovered by the side of the window, cursing himself for not catching a glimpse of the intruder before he'd reacted. The window was partially open though, and sound carried beautifully.
"Mommy?"
Even though alarms were going off in his head, telling him to stay back to avoid being seen, he positioned himself in front of the window again.
"What is it, baby?" Wendy had rolled over to help the child into bed. The child that was obviously hers. Even if no words relating the two had been spoken, appearances spoke for themselves. The kid had Wendy's face. Her eyes, her cheekbones, her lips…everything. As Riddick stared, Wendy tucked the child in next to her, wrapped her arm around the small bundle, and fell back to sleep.
Author's Note: (can't seem to write a chapter without one.) Now I'm really starting to feel the absence of a beta. I feel like this chapter is rushed, and like it doesn't really have much original thought behind it, but that could be because it's four o'clock in the morning. After I post it, I'll probably re-read it and want to re-write it, so that might happen. I also realize that I ended it horribly. Sorry about that. = ( Just to let you know, I appreciate all the reviews I've gotten so far, they're definitely my food for thought. If you have comments about this chapter or the story in general, feel free to send them to jorcutt@hotmail.com I would love specific ideas on what to change or what I could improve on. Hmmm…anyway, I don't like this chapter as much as the first three, but maybe you will. Let me know!