Chapter 2
"New fish?" He turned his head slowly to the side, glaring at a stocky, red-skinned man leaning against the wall, sipping something out of a metal cup. "They call me Red." Riddick only grunted, picking a hallway to walk down. Red shrugged and followed.
"You made it how long in here being someone's shadow?" Riddick gruffed, pausing to stare the red man down over his shoulder.
"Trust me, you need someone to show you the ropes." Riddick snickered, turning back to his stroll.
"This ain't new to me."
"I can tell," Red said, a small smirk appearing. "But I hate seeing a new resident surprised by lockdown." Riddick paused, mulling that over.
"Guard said something about that." Red nodded.
"They have to, legally, if they pull the shit they do."
"Which would be?"
"They let the animals out at night," Red said quietly. Riddick only smirked.
"Figures," he snorted. "Not dead if we're still on the books." Red nodded in agreement. "One question though."
"I don't know what the fuck they are," Red said, shrugging.
"No, I haven't seen any women here. This all-male or just more violent than women tend to get?" Red smirked.
"There's one." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "Don't know where she went, though. Tough one, too. Wouldn't mess with her if my life depended on it." Red smiled over at Riddick. "I'm sure you know the food chain deal." No response, meaning yes. "She's at the top. You need something, you go to her. What cell did they give you?" Riddick glanced at him from the corner of his eye, Red seeing only a flash of silver. "We got something like a bet going on."
"Why's that?"
"We hear things."
"There's only one way convicts hear things in prisons," Riddick commented. Red only shrugged. "You got piss ants talkin' or what?"
"One-way, mostly."
"The girl." Another shrug from Red.
"Don't make assumptions about her. She's nothing like what you'd expect her to be."
"Assumptions get you killed." Red nodded.
"Z 39," Riddick finally admitted, glancing up at the worn numbers next to cell doors. "Where is it?"
"All the way at the end of the hall, take a right, second left, and it's down there somewhere." A satisfied smile crept over Red's face, and Riddick figured he'd won whatever kind of bet whoever had going. "I don't remember which one it is. Used to, but it's just habit now."
"Really."
"That's where Sarge is." Riddick nodded as though the name meant something to him. "Soap thief extraordinaire. You want soap for the weekly showers, Sarge is the person to talk to."
"Weekly showers?" Red snickered.
"That's what I said. Community, but a shower's a fuckin shower."
"So what side is Sarge on?" Riddick asked, turning the corner. Red followed, just as Riddick expected. Every prison had a self-appointed welcoming committee. Either that was Red, or someone sent him to get the skinny on the new fish.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there's convicts and there's inmates," Riddick said with a shrug. Red nodded. "Convicts play by the rules and inmates somehow survive."
"Sarge is just Sarge," Red drawled. "Convict to the core. Trustworthy."
"No one's trustworthy," Riddick snapped with a hard stare. Red held his hands up, granting Riddick's comment. "Down here, it's every man for himself." They walked in silence for a while.
"Here we are," Red said, pointing a few doors down. "Sarge isn't there though." Riddick entered the small cell, glancing around. A tattered book – Wittgenstein. Interesting. Philosophy. At least he's halfway intelligent. A few candles, some shivs in the process of fashioning, an extra pair of boots, and a few wife beaters. In the corner, there was a box, but he knew better than to even appear to have the desire to go through it.
"So where is he?" Something about the smirk on Red's face triggered bells in Riddick's head.
"Probably the canteen." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "Open meals. Whenever you get hungry, as long as we're not on lockdown, unless you've got the balls for it." Red shrugged. "No one does though. It's just fucking stupid."
"Don't scare him, Red." Riddick's head snapped back to the door, taking in the tall, thin woman leaning against the doorframe. "Who made you the fucking welcoming crew in the first place?" She took a bite of the apple poised artfully between long fingers, and stared at him with cold, hateful blue eyes.
"I won, by the way." Her eyebrow rose, and he felt a twinge in his gut. She looked too much like Jack. Not necessarily features, more mannerisms so far. "He's in here."
"Shit." She pushed herself away from the wall and set the half-eaten apple on the bed, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "How much?"
"Three." She rubbed her forehead, reaching under her mattress for a box and fishing out three cigarettes.
"Fuck."
"Someone want to explain what the fuck is going on here?" Riddick asked, glancing between them.
"The bet," Red said, a victorious grin turning his lips. "She didn't think they'd put someone in with her."
"You're Sarge?" Riddick asked, his voice betraying his surprise. Her icy stare turned on him.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm Sarge. And you're Riddick, aren't you?" Red coughed, trying to cover his surprise, and she glanced back at him.
"Did you even to bother to ask him what his fucking name was?" she asked Red, pointing at Riddick. "Ass fucker."
"Hey –" She sent him a look, and Riddick was surprised he actually shut his mouth.
"Your reputation precedes you, Riddick," she said calmly, picking up the apple again and leaning back against the wall, crossing her legs in a rather yogic position.
"That a good thing?" She only shrugged.
"We'll see, I guess." He watched her consume that apple slowly, every now and then licking the juice running down a thumb. "Did Red give you the tour?" She glanced up at Red.
"He was in a hurry to find his cell assignment," Red stated, still pouting about being cut off.
"Shit," she muttered, rubbing her forehead. "Hey, Red." He perked up. "Did you ever track down Twosy?"
"When?"
"After Daniels and Art tried to mow him over."
"No, why?"
"He's got some shit I need," she said, too plainly to be merely a superficial comment. Riddick's eyebrow rose, and she turned to him. "See, all of us have our specialties. Twosy's got the medical shit. Doc's, well, the doc. Red's the conversationalist. Daniel's the doper, but I don't fuck with him much," she explained, shaking her head in disgust. "Never had the patience for that shit. Me? I'm the soap bitch. And Art's a fucking squealer. Not much good for anything, so watch out for him."
"I can figure this out myself, you know," Riddick said slowly, slightly amused. She smiled sweetly.
"Art's the kind of guy to get you thrown in the hole for pissing crooked," she explained, the charming grin twisting into revulsion.
"The hole," Riddick said nodding. "Every slam has one." She snorted, taking another bite of her apple. "Butcher Bay was the pit, Orphea Nine was the cage. Guess here it's the hole."
"Welcome to Asphyxia." Riddick snickered. "You noticed the bubble, I'm guessing." He nodded, shoulders still shaking with silent laughter. "Yeah, I thought the name was kinda hokey too." She shrugged a shoulder, and his smile fell, eyes suddenly sad. A Jack gesture. "But hey, it's fitting." She chucked the apple into the corridor and wiped her hands on her pants. "Step out side the bubble, and suffocate in three seconds."
"That fast?" She shrugged.
"Everyone who's tried never came back to tell us," Red said quietly.
"So it's been done."
"What, getting out?" Sarge asked. "Sure. I could show you the way if you have a fucking death wish." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "Common knowledge. But you can't get off the planet still breathing without hitting up the prison port – only port on this God forsaken planet. And that," she said, flopping back onto her pillow, "is impossible." Riddick leaned against the wall behind him and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Red, why don't you show Riddick around before lockdown?"
"I got a date," Red said quietly. Her eyebrow rose.
"If I find out you're doing that shit again, I'll personally beat the fuck out of you again." Riddick watched the exchange with interest, not really caring what 'shit' Sarge was referring to. "It's not worth the trouble."
"Sarge – "
"Fucking drop it!" she yelled, launching herself off the bed to slam Red against the wall. It wasn't until then that Riddick noticed how toned she was. She might be slight, but she was packed. She and Red stared at each other for a while, until she gave him a final shove and let him go. He cleared his throat, taking in the oxygen she'd just deprived him. "Go," she said, her voice hollow. He sighed, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, but she deflected him, twisting a hand in his shirt and slamming him into the wall again, glaring at him. "Just go." He nodded, untangling himself from her grasp before slinking through the doorway. She ran her fingers through her hair, retying the knot of dark hair on the back of her head. "Lockdown's in a few hours," she said quietly. "I'll give you the short tour tonight and the more extended one tomorrow."
"What was that all about?" he asked quietly, using a foot to push away from the wall, shrugging to unstuck his now wet shirt from his back.
"I'm sure you'll find out eventually," she said, the tone in her voice warning him not to ask again. He followed her down the corridor, mentally mapping the floor plan. The place really was a maze. "It's confusing at first," she said with a sympathetic smile and a dismissive shrug. "You'll get used to it."
"I'm not new to the system," he snorted.
"I know that," she returned. "I heard about you after I graced Butcher Bay with a visit." A smirk touched the corners of her lips, but she didn't look at him. "Haley was quite fond of you," she added.
"Funny. Didn't like him too much." She snickered.
"So where are you from, anyway?" He sighed. Fucking small talk.
"I don't know." She stopped walking, turning to him. "Never cared enough to find out."
"You're just a sociologist's wet dream, aren't you?" she asked with a smile. He only shrugged. "That's the shower room," she said, pointing to a metal door with a tinted window. "Open once a week. Good times." Her voice was flat with the last comment. They continued down the hallway. "What's with the goggles?" she asked, pointing into another room. "That's Doc's place. He's probably out making a house call right now. I'm surprised they let you bring them in here."
"Not much they can say." She glanced at him.
"Personal effects are personal effects," she pressed.
"This isn't listed as a black hole prison, Sarge," he said, a playful tone smirking his voice. "You're smart enough to figure that out, judging from the book on your bed." She smiled.
"Shined, huh?"
"Best a prison could offer," he said with a modest shrug. He knew it was a novelty.
"Hell, this place should be listed," she said with a cringe. "This is the brightest it ever gets. They just locked us down a couple of days ago to change out some broken bulbs." She paused, glancing around. "In fact, I've never seen it so fucking bright in here."
"How long have you been here?"
"In general or this slam?" she asked, shoving her hands into her pockets. "That's the canteen," she interjected, nodding at a doorway without a door. "It's the only room you'll probably have to worry about lights with. None of the others are that bright." He nodded.
"In general and this slam."
"Eight years in general, this slam for six." He grunted in response. "I know you're wondering, so I'll just go ahead and tell you." His eyebrow rose, but he watched her as he waited for explanation. "I'm twenty six. First kill was when I was eleven. It took them thirteen bodies to figure out it was me." A proud smile touched her lips.
"So you've got the taste, huh?" She only nodded. "Hard habit to kick." She glanced at him.
"So you have, then," she said slowly. He licked his lips, and she suddenly found him intriguing. "Why?" She could have sworn he cringed. "What was her name?" His jaw tightened, and she sighed. "Sorry. None of my business." She cleared her throat, and pointed at a dark hallway. "That's the way to the hole. There's a door at the end, and it's downhill from there."
"What's their game?"
"Waist-high frigid water for 24 hours. Then they drain it and let you shiver dry for three more days and it's back home," she gritted through clenched teeth. He smirked.
"Any special no-nos?"
"Talkin' to Art and playing with the guards and leaving them alive," she said with a shrug. "Depends on the guards though. Some of them take it like men, some of them don't. And, as I'm sure you found at Butcher Bay, some of them really enjoy it here. Belong here." He nodded. She shrugged. "That's it. The rest of this place is cell blocks."
"So the canteen's 24/7, huh?"
"Like Red says, though, voluntarily off limits after lockdown." Her eyes narrowed, and then the lights flickered. "Shit. Run." He looked at her quizzically. "Fucking run!" she yelled over her shoulder. He took off after her, chasing her down a maze of hallways until she ducked into Z 39, slamming the barred doors shut behind him. With hurried hands, she wrapped a chain around two bars to secure it and finished with a padlock.
"Padlock?"
"Every now and then Red can track some useful shit down." She shrugged, collapsing onto her bed. An animalistic growl echoed down the halls and she sighed. He wasn't sure if it was relief or exasperation. "Most times it's shit the guards drop." The lights suddenly went out, and she swore. "Let the games begin," she said flatly. Odd sounds echoed off the stone walls, every now and then a rush of air tickling the damp skin of the inmates. "Never seen what they are," she said quietly. "Don't really want to know." A human scream, and one more cell bunk was vacant. "Red?" she called.
"Yeah?" he yelled back, somewhere down the hall.
"Who bit it?"
"Sounded like Bowser, but I don't know." She sighed, shaking her head, her eyes slowly adjusting as much as they could to the darkness.
"You okay?" she finally called out again.
"Yeah. Twosy ducked in at the last minute, too," came Red's response. "Guess we're having a sleep over." She snickered.
"Who's doubling up?" Riddick grinned, biting back a crude comment.
"Twosy and Balls." She cackled, an evil but surprisingly comfortable laugh.
"Hey Balls?"
"Shut the fuck up, Sarge." Another wicked laugh.
"So explain the nicknames," Riddick asked, lowering himself onto his bunk. She snickered.
"Red is just red. All the time. Got teased when he first got here," she said with a chuckle. "Everyone wanted to know why he was always blushing. Fucking hothead. Balls got thumped picking up someone's soap and squealed like a pig." Riddick laughed. "Just kinda stuck after that." Shook her head. "Big ones, too. And Art's the resident tattoo artist. Wouldn't recommend it though. Not clean, and, well, he's not the sort of inmate people like us should associate ourselves with."
"People like us…" Riddick trailed off, asking without asking.
"We know how things work. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours but don't fucking cross me or I'll rip you in two kind of relationships." He nodded. That's how things were. The right sort of convict, anyway. "And then there's Art. Sleazy mother fucker, he is. In one ear and out his mouth to the closest hard ass guard." She snorted in disgust. "Hell, I don't even like playing with the friendly guards. A guard's a fucking guard."
"Good call," Riddick commented quietly. The more she talked, the more he liked her as a fellow convict. Still didn't trust her. He didn't plan on trusting anyone ever again. "And Twosy?" She thought for a moment, her expression pensive.
"I don't know, actually," she said slowly. "I think he's just always been Twosy."
"What about you?" She looked at him for a moment. "Sarge implies military, or something. What's the story?"
"A long one, that's what the story is," she said, lounging back on the lumpy mattress. She sniffed and made a face. "Good thing showers are in a few days." He snickered. "Fucking reek."
"All we got is time," he said quietly. She sighed, nodding.
"Army Rangers." His eyebrow rose. "Joined up when I was fifteen, ran with them for a year. Got some training, and my wiring got crossed," she said, pointing to her temple with a fiendish grin. "Had a body count before recruitment, but they didn't catch on until a week after I was promoted. Tried and convicted by Military Tribunal, and then the dirt came out." Her eyes glazed over, and he removed his goggles to watch her more closely. "I knew I was already walking down shit row, so I played up the municipal trial as much as I could. Found out about the real body count, minus a few missing people they couldn't track down, and I was convicted on thirty-six counts, excluding combat kills." He whistled. "Several counts of mutilation and other aberrations," she added with a shrug. "I don't remember exactly. Either way, though, I was done." She sighed, a smile starting to break through the haze in her eyes. "And the thing that really pisses me off was the dishonorable discharge." He laughed, a rumbling, echoing sound, but it was cut off quickly by a growling outside the bars of their cell. She stared at him, watching the silver of his eyes glint from the heat of whatever was watching them. "They do that sometimes," she said flatly. "Pisses them off they can't get in here."
"Looks like it," he returned.
"Glad I can't see it."
"What's the going rate now?" he asked, turning those silver orbs on her.
"What, for a shine?" No answer, so yes. "Last I heard it was 30." She shrugged. "I can't save though."
"What?"
"If I have them, I'll smoke them. Most I've ever gotten together is 25, and then I got pissed off at Red and cut it down to 5. Worked back up to 23 right now, so I gotta check on that. Well, hell, 20 because of that God damn bet."
"Inflation's a bitch." She snickered.
"What'd yours cost?"
"20."
"Shit," she spat. "You know, I could probably get it for free." His eyebrow rose. "Well, as far as prison currency is concerned." She sighed. "For everyone else, anyway." He grunted. "I don't do that shit though."
"So you worked your way to the top of the food chain without using your talents, huh?" She smirked, but the smile didn't linger.
"Brute force works better," she quipped. "Lasts longer, too."
"Glad you knew that from the start," he said quietly. "Seen it happen too much to recommend it."
"Glad we have an understanding," she said, meeting and holding his eyes, face set.
"Got nothing to worry about," he said quietly, keeping the gaze. "No offense, but I'm not on the market." She smirked.
"Good to know." He watched, sensing she was extremely uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had turned. "I consider myself an asexual human being. Everybody here knows that. As long as you do, too, we won't have any problems."
"I'll take your word for it."