Dark. A haven for the evil. Cool air against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat outside. Smell of blood. Johns. A grim smile played on his lips.
Familiar shapes outlined in rays of purple, soft drone of the AC in his ears. Some kid laughing outside.
Riddick felt the tension ease slowly from his muscles and pulled open the tiny ice box. A cold beer sat waiting for him and he pulled it out, wiping the wet glass against his forehead before twisting off the cap.
He rubbed his thumb absently over the condensation on the bottle and headed for the bathroom. He needed a shave, he admitted to himself, rasping a callused hand over the rough stubble on his jaw. Hair's getting longer than I like. He frowned and set the beer aside, pulled the shiv from his waist band. He placed it on the sink by his beer and glared at his reflection.
The dark shades hid his gaze from even himself and he whipped them off to toss them to the floor at his feet.
Riddick opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a can of shaving cream. He shook it hard and then released the thick foam into his palm. He slathered it over his scalp first and reached for his shiv. A few smooth pulls of the shiv over his head and he wiped the excess cream from his scalp with a towel.
Nice and smooth. Now a repeat on the jaw. There, now he was presentable. For what, he didn't know. Didn't care. He'd been on this rock to long and it was time to make his disappearance.
What was the name of the transport Johns had booked passage on? Hunter-Gratzner.
Riddick gripped the sink hard as an odd flash passed over his eyes. Dim red light filtering down on him. Cold metal around his wrists. Metal in his mouth. He shook his head and glared at his reflection, searching for the meaning of the strange flashes.
It wasn't the first one he'd gotten. He kept seeing it. In the visions he was blindfolded but dim red light filtered through to him anyway. He was behind glass. It felt like a cryo-chamber. Words were printed on the glass but he couldn't make them out.
"Damn it," he muttered and left the bathroom, taking shades, beer and shiv with him.
A single chair decorated the sparse room. Hard bed, four drawer dresser. Ancient holocube bolted to the dresser. A broken phone beside the bed on a ratty table. Burnt out lamp. It was all the same. He never used lights in his rooms anyway.
Sit in the chair as the sun goes down. That was the plan. Riddick pulled the badge from his pocket as he sat, placing his beer on the bedside table beside the phone. The nickel slick badge caught an errant ray of light and he wrapped his fingers around it, blocking the glare.
"Interesting."
#
Morning found Riddick at the Hunter-Gratzner, his meager possessions in a duffel over his shoulder. He tapped the badge on his chest with a forefinger as he approached the loading ramp.
"Name?"
Riddick faced the woman, sucking up details for later use. "Johns," he answered automatically and the woman checked her sheet, flipping to the next page on her clipboard.
"Here you are. Chamber eight. Where's your prisoner?"
Riddick shrugged. "Dead. Doesn't have to go back to slam like that. Collected my bounty with local authorities."
The woman nodded. "All right. Listen. There's something wrong with a couple of the chambers. We won't be leaving for another day. Will that be a problem?"
Riddick's face stayed impassive. "No. Except that I gave up my room when I left this morning."
The woman frowned. "Yeah. Most the passengers did. Okay. We can arrange boarding for you until we're ready for take off. That all right?"
"Sure," Riddick answered and followed the blonde into the ship. It was dark and he relaxed, falling into his element.
Who was the woman? Blue pilot's uniform, short blonde hair tied back from her face. She motioned him to stay where he was when they reached an air lock and stepped up to a man in a uniform that matched hers.
They conversed for a few moments and the man looked at him and then turned back to her, nodding. He headed for the stern and came back a few moments later. He passed something to the woman and she took it, smiling at him.
Riddick caught a "thanks" and the woman came back towards him.
"Here," she said and held her hand out, palm down.
Riddick looked at her suspiciously and she reached out and grabbed his wrist impatiently, dropping a plastic credit token into his open palm.
"Use this for a hotel room and be here eight hundred standard time Thursday. We leave at nine hundred."
The woman turned to leave but Riddick snatched her wrist. "Who are you?" he questioned.
"Docking pilot. Carolyn Fry. I'll see you Thursday, Johns." She turned and headed back for the air lock and Riddick left, shrugging off the odd sensation of having met her before. Her scent was familiar.
#
Riddick watched the window as light began to filter through the drawn curtains Thursday morning. He rubbed his eyes before slipping on his shades. No sleep for a convict, he told himself as he headed for the bathroom.
Quick shower and he was ready to head for the Hunter-Gratzner, belongings packed. He clipped the badge to his shirt and left the hotel room, checking out downstairs. He'd checked in under an alias. Something he'd just made up. Didn't matter. It was the same wherever he went. New place, new name.
The enormous transport filled Riddick's vision as he approached the docking bay at the space station and he saw Carolyn Fry, checking names of the boarding passengers. He approached her silently and when she looked up she jumped slightly. Riddick didn't comment and Carolyn's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You startled me," she stated quietly and flipped to another page on her checklist. He leaned forward to watch her cross Johns' name from the list.
"Ready to board?" she asked and Riddick nodded. Carolyn stepped aside and Riddick brushed past her, heading for his cryo-chamber.
By the time everyone was inside their tubes it was nine hundred hours and the upper and lower doors on Riddick's chamber swung shut. His bag was stowed between his legs and he leaned back against the wall as the gas came up around his feet.
He inhaled sharply and felt the drowsy effect it had on his system. Riddick had never gotten used to the sensation. Cryo-gas was the only thing that put him out, but it wore of quickly. His body thought it was sleeping, but his mind still worked.
When he woke up it was to see everyone around him asleep. He closed his eyes and tried to force his mind to cooperate with the gas. It wouldn't. He'd sleep a good portion of the trip, but there would be plenty of times where he was awake.
He assessed the other passengers in his cabin. Smell of leather, sweat, tools. Woman, prospector type. Another with her scent, but male. Husband probably.
An Arab voice. Some hoodoo holy man. Probably on his way to New Mecca. Other smells, less distinct. Familiar to a million other transports just like this one. A lot of time for him to think. Forty-one weeks until the next stop. He'd glanced at the chamber that would have been his before the doors to his tube closed. Johns had been prepared for him on this ride.
No Early Release printed on the glass. Odd. The sensation of being chained was on him again and he rubbed his wrists and mouth, shifting in his chamber. Glass coffin.
He was awake, but the gas did make him drowsy. Vulnerable. He slipped into a nightmare sleep, his lips pulled into a frown.