After a few weeks, she returned with another person, a girl perhaps two or three years younger. He stared at her, comparing her to Rebel, and nearly laughed. They looked the opposite. Whilst Rebel was smaller and curvy, this girl was tall and slim, dark haired and fair skinned. Riddick studied the newcomer. She didn't know how to fight. She didn't walk like it. Fighters, killers… predators… all walk a certain way, weight balanced, carefully placing feet, ready to change direction at all times. The younger girl didn't walk like Rebel, or Riddick himself, did. She would probably slip or fall easily. He would knock her out first, and any noise he made would be covered, as Rebel would assume they were her friend knocking into things. He studied Rebel's walk. It looked a little different, not quite limping but like she had been hurt.
Lightly, Riddick jumped down from the roof. He crept in through a window, and appeared behind the younger girl. She turned around to see a tall, heavily muscled man with shined eyes directly behind her and flinched away. The girl soon slumped in his arms as a syringe emptied its contents into her system.
He locked her in the room, and went to find Rebel. She was grabbing items and stuffing them in a duffle-bag, every so often pausing and scanning the room. As she looked down he approached, and when she looked up next, he was right in front of her. Riddick was expecting her to jump back as the other girl did, and had already begun his lunge. However, she dropped flat on the floor, and he tripped over her body. Barely regaining his footing, he turned and went after her, as she jumped up and fled from the room. He followed her. She scanned each room for her friend, with Riddick pursuing her. She looked back and saw him, and she reached the bathroom. Rebel turned the handle in frustration, knowing it was locked. She sighed in irritation and turning, leant against the door, facing him.
Interesting. She wasn't trying to escape, merely to get to her friend. She could have tried to leave through a window at any stage, and she hadn't. Rebel's eyes questioned his urgently. Riddick studied Rebel, thinking about the unspoken question. He continued approaching, and although Rebel eyed him warily she made no move for either gun or blade. He knew she could easily have dragged out a weapon by now, but she hadn't. Riddick was disappointed; he had never fought someone with skills reputed to equal or better his. Probably morals, he thought, she wasn't leaving without her friend.
His mouth quirked into a grin as he grasped her wrists in a much larger hand, feeling them tense, although she still didn't make any attempt to fight. Her entire body was completely tense, muscles pulled taut. It must be killing her not to fight against this, thought Riddick, amused, she's so skittish. He pushed her against the wall, holding her wrists above her head. He frisked her, first patting her down, than running an impersonal hand under her shirt and in the waistband of her pants. Her eyes blazed as he did so, and her expression tightened as he relieved her of more weapons that'd she has recently acquired. He turned her around, so her face was against the wall and repeated the procedure. Control yourself! Riddick reprimanded himself, as his hand ranged across her body. He hadn't been entirely prepared for her smooth, warm skin, and the feel of her very feminine curves. He had felt the shudder run across her skin as his cool hand checked the surface of her body. He wondered at the bandages around her hip and just under her bra.
Riddick let her arms drop to her sides and she whirled around. He put his hands palm-up against the wall on either side of her, leaning onto them, trapping her.
"Is she alright?" It was the first time Rebel had spoken, and he was surprised to hear her speak with an Earth Australian accent. The girl had a nice voice, low and smooth. She hid her emotions well, Riddick knew she was scared, yet her face and voice remained impassive. He looked at her quizzically. "What is she to you?"
Rebel began to loose her calm. Dual apprehension and anger laced through her previously impassive voice. "Is this a fucking game of 20 questions? Is she alright?" Her voice rose in volume. Swiftly, he held a forearm against her throat, cutting off her rising voice as he applied pressure. She kicked out and struggled but he continued until she blacked out and slumped, unconscious. He caught her before she fell, and he roped her hands together. Grabbing her duffle bad, Riddick carried her to his craft, at the nearby station. No one questioned or even tried to stop the imposing man as he carried the girl in his arms through the evening streets. When he reached the ship, he carried her to the bedroom, which held a bunk bed and a normal bed. Dropping her bag at the foot of the bed, he lay her down on the bunk, she was still unconscious, and tied the spare rope from her arms to the head of the bunk. He also tied her legs to the foot of the bunk, she was stuck spreadeagled, there was no way she could move either her legs or arms.