Chapter 13
"What was that all about?" Riddick asked, grasping her elbow as she walked down the hall. She whirled around, jerking her arm from his hand, staring up at him for a moment before continuing down the corridor. He stormed in behind her, glaring down at her as she folded herself onto her bed. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Sitting," she said, adjusting her pillow under her head.
"What the fuck was that?"
"Daisy." His eyebrow rose, and she shrugged.
"Want to tell me more?"
"Why does it matter?" she groaned, closing her eyes. He ripped his goggles from his head, standing over her, hands on his hips. She sighed. "He's the matchmaker."
"The matchmaker," Riddick repeated.
"Yeah," she said, opening her eyes again, lifting her head to remove her goggles as well. "Fights."
"Shit, Sarge," Riddick groaned, tossing his goggles onto his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"What, you don't think I know what I'm getting into?" she snapped, sitting up slightly. "You don't know what I'm getting into."
"Why?"
"Because I want to," she barked, eyes flashing angrily. "Why do you care, anyway?"
"You're fucking crazy," he retorted, collapsing onto his bed.
"Don't tell me you're trying to protect me, Riddick," she said angrily. "Don't fucking tell me you care about me and want to keep me safe." He glared at her. "We both know that's a god damn lie," she finished, shifting onto her back again.
"The fuck it is," he said quietly.
"What was that?"
"I said, the fuck it is," he growled, sitting up suddenly. She shook her head, jaw tightening. "Why else would I have stayed locked up in here to make sure you lived through that fucking shine job? Why the fuck would I spent the night in a fucking vent to steal you some fucking protection." She shushed him, glancing out into the hallway. He shook his head, snorting in frustration. "Is there anywhere to having a fucking conversation in private?" He'd said it merely out of exasperation, but the quick, nervous glance she gave him piqued his interest. "Spill it, Kody," he demanded. She sighed, shaking her head.
"I don't know if it's still there," she said quietly.
"If what's still where?" He rose slowly, walking to stand over her. She closed her eyes, covering them with a hand.
"There used to be a little hidey hole a couple hallways down," she admitted quietly.
"Were you planning on telling me that?" She removed her hand, staring up at him sharply.
"I don't have a fucking reason to," she snapped. His eyes narrowed, and she sighed again, more heavily this time. "No one else knows." She cringed. "Now."
"Twosy." She nodded. "Show me." Her eyes closed – she knew she was beat, so she nodded slightly. He backed up, watching her stand, and reached out, wrapping a hand around her throat loosely and backing her into the wall between their beds. Her fingers twined around his hand, pulling, her other hand pressed against his chest as he pushed closer to her. "Listen to me carefully," he said quietly, leaning down to speak into her ear. She nodded vigorously. "You set me up, I'll kill you slowly."
"The thought hadn't crossed my mind," she said carefully, turning to look up at him. "Let me go, and I'll show you." He released her, still hovering in front of her. She shoved past him, snatching up her goggles as she went. He followed closely. She crouched at a corner, peeking around into the lit hallway. She shook her head, pausing. Another quick glance, and she darted across the hall, watching him repeat her action and follow. She took him down another hallway, finally stopping in front of small grate in a niche in the wall. Her arm shot out to her side, her hand flattened against his chest, pushing him flat against the wall. Footsteps passed, and she glanced up at him quickly, stooping down to remove the grate. "It'll be a tight fit for you," she whispered. His eyebrow rose, but he quickly learned she was right. It was a short, narrow passage into a small room. He looked around as she replaced the grate, loosely securing two bolts. Four canisters were leaned in a corner, along with some clothing and a couple of small bags. She stood, slowly turning to face him, a nervous expression clouding her face.
"Talk," he growled. She sighed, sinking to the floor, leaning against the wall with her knees pulled to her chest.
"Twosy and I had a plan," she admitted quietly. "All we needed was a screw driver, and we couldn't seem to find one." She shrugged, wrapping her arms around her legs.
"A plan for what?" Her eyes darted up to his before staring down at her fingers clasped around her knees. A low rumble vibrated in his chest as he nodded. "And then the guards killed him." She nodded, swallowing with a sour look on her face. "And now?"
"Mission aborted," she said lowly.
"You found the way to the hangar?" he asked. She nodded slightly. "How?"
"Anders had the blueprints sitting on his desk, one of the times he…" she trailed off, closing her eyes.
"You snatched it." She shook her head. "What, then?"
"Photographic memory." His eyebrow rose, and she glanced up at him, knowing the pink glow in his eyes was her reflection. "I just had to glance at it."
"Interesting."
"No point now," she sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"Why?"
"Twosy's dead," she said thickly. "I can't go by myself. Can't pilot."
"I can." Her eyes lifted to his, mulling his words over.
"What, so I can get you out and you go your way and leave me behind? Fuck that," she spat. He crouched in front of her.
"Look at me," he demanded. She shook her head, still focused on her knees. He reached out, grasping her chin despite her efforts to get away. "I wouldn't leave you here."
"No, you'll leave me at the first stop," she ground out. His eyes closed, breath leaving him suddenly. Her eyebrow rose, not knowing what that was all about, but didn't ask.
"Can we get everyone out?"
"Everyone as in who?" He looked at her sharply, and she shook her head. "It's a sneak job," she explained. "Two at the most." He nodded.
"And no one else knows?" She shook her head. "We go after the next shower," he instructed.
"We need a screwdriver."
"I'll get one," he said quickly. She blinked. "Phillips?" A small nod. "That gives us four days. I'll have one by then." She sighed, running her hands over her arms. He covered them with hers. "Can it really be done?" he asked after a moment.
"With a little luck, maybe."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked quietly, watching her wrap her wrists. She gave him a confident nod before bending down to wrap her ankles. She popped her neck, standing to turn, lifting a foot onto the bed to stretch. He watched, eyebrow perched at an angle. "What's this Duke guy like?" She shrugged, dodging the question.
"You'll find out," she said softly, switching legs. "Don't worry about me," she said firmly. "I'll be fine."
"Have you fought him before?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and he took it as a no. "Just remember we have showers in a few days," he warned.
"I know that, Riddick," she said quickly. "I have to go." She tugged her prison issue over her head and walked to the door, pausing before turning slightly. "Are you gonna be there?" He nodded once.
"Yeah," he said, "I'll be there." She nodded in satisfaction and was gone. He ran a hand over his face, resting his chin in the angle of this thumbs pressed together, index fingers resting on his nose.
"What's up?" Balls stood in the hallway, hands shoved into his pockets. He stepped into the cell to avoid a group of convicts chasing someone down the hall, glaring at them as they passed. Riddick sighed.
"She's going to the fights." Balls whistled.
"Going to or participating in?" Riddick's eyes closed and Balls sat slowly, dropping his head between his shoulders. "Who's she fighting?"
"Some guy named Duke."
"Shit," Balls breathed, lifting his head to look over at Riddick. Riddick's eyes snapped up to his.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Duke's a big guy," Balls said, shaking his head slowly. "Got a good record in the cage," he continued. "Took out three guys in a melee by himself."
"Took out as in…"
"Killed," Balls said quietly. "Didn't have to snap their necks or anything. Just beat them to death." Riddick swore under his breath. "She's got a beef with him," he explained with a small shrug. "He fucked her over, she got even."
"How?"
"Severed deals with other people he went to. They didn't like it, so they quit dealing with him so they could stay in her good graces." Riddick nodded. Smart girl, he thought.
"She got a chance?"
"Maybe."
Sarge stood leaned in a corner of the cage, eyes closed, as the crowd poured in, the self-appointed referee, Daisy, standing between her and Duke. Riddick concealed himself in a shadowed corner, the floor slightly raised above the rest of the area. She had a peaceful expression on her face, just standing there, arms crossed over her chest, one foot pressed against the chain link cage. Duke was a whole different story. He paced back and forth, eyes locked on Sarge as he moved, hands clenched. His arms were covered in prison tattoos, half of them naked women and the other half just violent pictures. Riddick scowled. He was a big guy, at least three times Sarge's size, and had a good four inches on her height-wise.
"Fellow convicts," Daisy yelled. The mob churned, yelling obscenities and encouragement to Duke. "Tonight we have a treat." A lazy, twisted grin slid over the man's face. "The Sergeant has decided to once again grace us with a performance. And Duke here, has accepted a challenge from the little lady." A scowl flashed across her face, but as quickly as it appeared it was replaced with the expressionless face placed there before. The lights dimmed slightly, and a roar ran through the crowd. "At her request," he continued, gesturing at Sarge, "We have a little bit of mood lighting for the evening. And as always, anything goes. Place your bets with one of my trusty associates," a cheer erupted, " and let the games begin." He backed out of the cage, wrapping a chain through the metal links to secure the door. Riddick sighed, crossing his arms. Duke continued his pacing, and she continued standing there. The crowd started chanting, and Duke took a couple of steps forward, pausing when her eyes opened slowly, head lowered to stare at him from under knitted eyebrows.
"Freak," Duke muttered, and a lazy, sadistic smile crept onto Sarge's face as she pushed away from the chain link, popping her neck as she took her stance. He lunged at her, the crowd exploding, but she caught him in the nose with the heel of her hand, sending him reeling backwards out of surprise. She cuffed her nose, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet before returning to her stance. He growled, rushing her again, this time slammed with a fist to the sternum, followed by a kick to the side of the head. This time, though, he didn't back up, landing a few of his own, finally tackling her to the ground, pinning her under him. "They're gonna get a show tonight," he growled in her ear. His last word ended with a squeak as her knee drove into his crotch, her foot planting and pushing upwards, flipping him off her to sprawl on the floor of the cage. She kipped up, shaking it off. Duke rolled around on the floor for a while, holding his precious package, howling in pain. She dropped her fists, calmly walking over to him and kicking, making him double up, the wind knocked out of him.
"Get up, you motherfucker," she spat, kicking the back of his neck. He slowly got to his feet with a groan. He ran toward her, but she took a step to the side, swinging her leg around to make a connection between her heel and his throat. He fell to the ground, gasping and wheezing. "And here I heard you were a good fighter," she mocked, throwing her hands in the air. "What do you think, guys?" she yelled, glancing around at the crowd, which roared in response. Two silver dots caught her eye, and she stared back at him, eyes narrowing. An arm went around her neck, wrenching her backwards, and her eyes scrunched closed in pain as a knee connected with her side, her nails tearing into the skin of the arm around her.
"Big mistake challenging a big guy like me," he whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek as he throttled her.
"You really need a fucking toothbrush," she gritted, waiting for the right moment. Just as she thought she was going to pass out, it came, and she suddenly bent at the waist, sending him flying over her shoulder into the fence, a foot catching in a broken link. He flipped forward, his knee dislocating at the angle of his fall, prompting a scream. She sat on her knees for a while, arms quivering under her as she gasped in precious air. Her head lifted and she glared at Duke, hanging upside down from the fence, still howling in pain. She slowly got to her feet, staggering a bit as she walked toward him. His hands were busy trying to find a way to pull himself up to untangle his ankle. "A shower wouldn't hurt either," she whispered into his ear, watching him freeze. His eyes met hers, his face reflected back to him and she stood slowly, walking a circle around the cage before pulling her elbow across his body and jamming it into his chest, ribs cracking. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and nose as he grasped his chest, the impact interrupting his heart's electrical current enough to induce a heart attack. "Pussy," she mumbled under her breath, popping her neck again. Daisy entered the cage, and she stared him down as he walked past her to inspect Duke's body. He walked back to her, parking in front of her. Her eyebrow twitched, and he reached out, raising her arm over her head. The crowd burst into cheers. "I told you not to fuck with me," she muttered to Daisy.
"Maybe next time I'll take you seriously," he said quietly, letting her arm drop. She stared him down for a while, finally stalking to the door and wrenching it open, shoving her way through the crowd, receiving pats on the back, some convicts copping a feel. She let it slide, forcing her way past the undulating mob and into the empty hallways to stand in the middle of the cell, eyes closed as she took a deep, shaky breath, and let it out slowly. She felt him standing behind her, but didn't turn.
"You okay?" he asked quietly. She worked her head back and forth, easing the tension in her shoulders, not answering. He took a step forward, reaching out.
"Don't," she said quickly, making him pause. "Don't touch me," she whispered, shaking her head.
"Are you okay?" he repeated.
"Yeah," she said after a beat. "I'm fine." His eyebrow rose. Her head dropped, her hands rising to rest on her hips, ribs heaving with her labored breathing as she leaned forward a little.
"You're a lousy liar," he commented quietly. She shrugged, then let out a rattling cough, turning her head to hack into the hallway, then wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the wraps on her wrist. She wavered a bit and felt his hand on her back, steadying her. On instinct, she swung around, her forearm slamming him into the bars.
"Don't fucking touch me right now," she growled. He held his hands up, and she gave him another shove before whirling around, dropping to her knees, forehead resting on the ground. "Leave," she whispered. "Just leave." He backed out of the cell, retreating to the shadows. She crawled over to the bars, slowly pulling herself off the floor with a weak whimper, holding her side. Slowly, she staggered down the hallway toward the canteen, stopping to heave into a dark corner, once again falling to the ground, a frustrated groan echoing down the hallway. She pressed her head into the cold stone beneath her, face twisted in agony as she teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. A few minutes passed while she lay in the floor, small cries escaping intermittently. She felt herself lifted off the ground by a pair of large arms and carried down a maze of hallways.