He looked behind him as Rebel started to back away. She started to say something, than stopped. Curiosity aroused, he asked her, "Now what's wrong?" She pointed at the cam, it showed men getting out, men with guns. Riddick sighed. "You have the Syndicate after you?"
Rebel nodded. "Thanks to you! They paid me in advance before you grabbed me. For a few big jobs."
Riddick shrugged in reply, and Rebel threw up her hands in frustration. The Syndicate were just as notorious for their treatment of deviating employees as for their treatment of prisoners. Riddick had nearly signed her death warrant.
"Well, guess you got nowhere to go then" as Riddick was talking, he was startled by the sudden blaze of anger in her eyes, and when she lunged at him, he couldn't help flinching. Angered, he hit her in her midsection, and although he had pulled his punch, she collapsed to the floor, winded. Holding his hand over her eyes, she couldn't see, and was thoroughly disorientated as he pulled her into another room. She was trying to breathe and was startled as he suddenly stopped. Rebel started to protest as he placed a blindfold around her head, but he silenced her. Grabbing her, they moved again, and she gasped as he suddenly lifted her into the air, placing her above him. He shoved her across the floor and jumped up to the same level. Riddick pulled her up and pushed her through the area. She tried to move the blindfold, but he whispered "no" softly into her ear. He stood behind her and she felt his warm body pressing against hers as she cautiously stepped forwards, slowly. His body against was solid behind hers. The unwanted contact made her jump and she felt, rather then heard his deep, quiet chuckle.
Riddick turned her around, and pushed Rebel back into a wall, almost gently. She sensed him as he moved closer, and tilted her face towards him. When Riddick grabbed her arm, she didn't resist, letting him pull both of her arms, linked by the chain up and didn't stop him from hooking the chain slightly above her head.. He walked away, and then paused. She wondered what he was doing, and then laughed as she heard a chair scraping on the ground. He pushed her to one side, and leant the chair against the wall, and guided her onto it. This time when he walked off, he didn't pause. She heard the trapdoor shut, and she was alone.
Her thoughts were chaotic. She had to consider what she would do. Earth, her home planet was uninhabitable, as was all the planets that Syndicate were powerful on. Any planets controlled by the Mafia would be safe, thanks to the rivalry between the organisations, but she probably wouldn't get any jobs there, as they wouldn't trust her not to skip out on them. The safest bet would probably be a backwater planet, far from anywhere. It would be preferably hospitable, but that was only a plus.
Straining her ears, she could barely hear the conversation below her.
After introductions were over there was a strained silence between the men. Riddick asked them "what are you here for?"
The youngest there – she recognised his voice, Mike – began after a pause. The conversation was long and she grew drowsy. Shit! No time for a nap. I need to hear this! Against her will, her body soon slumped into sleep.
Riddick stared at the three men, thinking. He wasn't entirely sure what to do. They knew he had her; she'd been smart enough to leave a coded message at her apartment, which had been confirmed by a hidden vid cam outside the house. He had an option of paying the cash back – with a helluva lot of interest – or giving them the girl. If I let them have her, she'd end up like her friend, Elise, bruised and timid. Then it would be easier to get her to work for me, although her demeanour would be so unlike her reputation that the people would get suspicious. Or the Syndicate might kill her, either prospect was likely. He rubbed his hand over his scalp and dropped it back down. I can easily pay for her. She'll be in my debt for a long, long time though. He mentally chuckled at the thought. I wonder if she'd do what I asked, or would she just …? I still don't want to pay that amount for an uncertainty. I know what I'll do. She'll absolutely hate it. But she will obey, she won't have any other choice. If she doesn't kill me first. A smirk appeared on his face at his idea.
Grudgingly, Riddick payed the money. Mike tallied the amount on the temporary card with a handheld device, and looked up when he found there were a large amount of extra credits. Riddick beckoned him over and Mike looked up at him with shock and a tinge of amusement at Riddick's words. He nodded his head; anyone belonging in the Syndicate would have done the same. They had prepared for the eventuality, and brought the correct equipment, but had not expected the criminal to think of it.
They agreed to the terms. Riddick had not only payed off Rebel's debt; he had also bought her. According the rules of employment within the Syndicate, an employee agreed to work there for an amount of time. For that, they got unlimited resources and decent credits. However, the Syndicate 'owned' them as insurance. Her life was forfeit to him, and the law would agree. He owned her, he could do absolutely anything he wanted to her. Literally. The transaction was legally allowed. Rebel couldn't pay the debt owed to the Syndicate, so they were allowed to indenture her until the creds were worked off. Riddick simply paid for her bond. She'd only have one chance to work it off.
Mike looked at Riddick with near apprehension in his face, and signed his part of the contract. Riddick did the same, and kept the document. One Arlina Wells was now under the ownership of Richard B. Riddick. They signed another, with Riddick's name being changed to one of his many pseudonyms. One of the bodyguards threw Riddick a bag and he caught it in midair. Calling out good luck as he left the ship, Mike stepped back into his own. Damn, he'd liked the girl. No hope for her now though! He didn't look back.
Riddick walked into the pilot room and watched them leave. He sat down in the chair and opened the bag. Grinning evilly, he rifled through the contents. The Syndicate had obviously thought about what choice Riddick would make. There were arm and leg shackles, a bit, a neck cuff and leash in sparkly diamonds, a branding iron kit with letters and aftercare and a coiled whip. That, he didn't want to use.
He couldn't hear the girl moving around, so he took the time to assemble the branding kit. He chose his initials, with a period after the end of each letter, spaced out. R. B. R. His. He liked the sound of that. He'd never really owned anything as a child, this was his chance to play. Not entirely sure how his mood had changed from pitying her and trying to be gentle to his current sadistic thoughts, he shrugged mentally.
Leaving the brand warming up, he put everything but the bit back in the bag. He had a feeling he'd need that. Even though no one would hear her out in this deserted shipping lane, he still didn't want have to shut her up violently out of annoyance.
Riddick saw the glow that announced the readiness of the branding iron, and picked it up. He had a moments regret of what he was going to do. Banishing it to the back of his mind, along with a thousand other crimes, he walked through to the bedroom and hoisted himself up through the barely visible trapdoor. He walked silently to her. She didn't awaken at his approach, and he gauged the best area to place the red-hot brand. It needed to be visible so nobody would fuck with her. And so she couldn't run off easily. Had to be a place nice and easy to bandage. Her left arm already had a tat, a nice piece of work that was covering up something. She'd never have the opportunity to do the same with his name, if he could help it. Her only chance at freedom in name was to help retrieve Jack, but her freedom from him?
She's right armed, too. Maybe when it's healing, she'll be a bit impaired by it. All the better for me. Carefully, Riddick inched up to the girl as she hung there like a pagan sacrifice in days past, arms splayed out uncomfortably, although her body was curled in the chair. He readied himself to cover her mouth, and lightly grasping her arm with one hand, he carefully placed the brand and pushed it down on her arm. She woke, eyes wide with shock and pain. She drew a deep breath inwards and flinched backwards against the wall. Afraid she would scream, he clapped his hand over her mouth. Riddick dropped the brand, the imprint was nearly too deep. She struggled, kicking the chair over. He let go of her face instinctively when she bit him. He watched as she writhed, soundless. The look in her eyes was heartrending, a tortured intensity to their depths. Riddick got the feeling he'd done something very, very wrong.
He snapped out of it as she stilled. All her muscles stood out in definition, and he realised how toned she was. Again she took a deep breath. "Fuck", she said, calmly. Then she fainted.
Riddick rolled his eyes. Very theatrical, kid. He made sure the iron was off, and, unhooking the chain, lifted Rebel and took her to the bedroom. She didn't rouse even when he dumped her on the bed.
He was going to leave her; but it did occur to him that she might not be as hurt as she seemed and this was merely another escape attempt. Escape to where though, the cynical voice in his mind reasoned.
Using the specially designed shackles that the men from the Syndicate had given him, he undid his handcuffs and within minutes Rebel's arms were cuffed with the chain looped around the head of the bed, and her legs were cuffed with their chain around the bottom of the bed. He was going to put the bit in her mouth but hesitated. Memories of being chained and beaten were second only to when he was bitted in transportation. That really sucked.
When he returned in a few hours after doing some negligible repairs, she was still out. Riddick frowned. He listened to her pulse. It was faint and erratic. Shit. He knew that it couldn't have been just because of the brand - that would only hurt like hell. Uncuffing her, he lifted her easily and walked into the med room as her prone figure lay in his powerful arms. Cradling her body, he gently lay her down on the table and strapped her in the restraints. "Computer, run general scan." As the computer checked over her, he tried to remember if she'd flinched away from any spots in the last day or so. The computer beeped, signalling the completion of the task. He read the results. Two deep wounds, exhaustion and prospective shock. Looking at the diagram, he found the wounds. One was a deep line where she had been gouged with something sharp. It was only a few millimetres long in diameter; she'd be alright, although as it encircled her rib cage, she'd have to be careful. He was more worried about the other, which ran along her side from the same height as her navel to mid-thigh. It was longer, and significantly wider, although not as deep. Riddick grinned. 5 piercings! He had noticed her ears were pierced, but didn't think she was that much of a, well, Rebel to get them pierced that many times. No one did these days, it was too much of a health risk.
He tried to pull off her tank top, but it was too hard, considering the locations of the restraints – neck, wrists, waist, ankles. He just ripped it. Riddick found the long gash and put a strip over it. After the second attempt at bandaging her, he got too frustrated at her bra, which kept getting in the way. It unclipped at the front, and he after unhooking it, he placed the strapless bra on a bench. He turned back to Rebel and tried to focus. His throat was suddenly dry at the sight of her ample breasts. With an effort, he focused his mind on his task. Every so often as he was manoeuvring around her to bandage the wound, he would brush against a soft breast. He sucked in his breath as the temperature dropped and watched whilst her nipples hardened. Riddick ran a hand over her breast before he realised what he was doing and he dragged it away as if burned. Concentrate, damn you! She's fucking unconscious. He bandaged the wound securely. On an impulse, he continued bandaging so her breasts were covered. He felt a lot better, before mentally kicking himself. Jeez, just because you unintentionally knocked her out, it doesn't mean you need to get all soft. Angry at himself for his unusual hesitation, he jerked her jeans down roughly. Perhaps it was that movement which awoke her, for the girl roused. She was delirious from the pain and struggled wildly. "Computer, tighten restraints and light sedation!" The computer responded to Riddick's urgent command and Rebel stopped flailing manically.
Riddick moved around to the head of the table. "Look at me! Look at me, damnit." Eventually Rebel did. "Calm down. It's Riddick. I'm not going to hurt you or rape you. I'm just stitching you up. Why didn't you tell me you had those? Just relax, I'm not going to jump you. Just let me stitch your wound and I'll leave you alone, ok?" Reluctantly, she stilled completely. As the sedative took effect, she relaxed. Riddick continued with his ministrations. He stitched the wound after cleaning it, and did as much as he could. He was still shocked that he hadn't even suspected the wounds, although he did know that she must have got them in the few weeks when she wasn't living in her flat. Riddick was able to finish doctoring the wound without removing her underwear, although he had noted that it matched the bra, and wryly thought about her reaction if she had woken up without those on.
He noticed her jeans were wet with her sweat and blood. Shit. She's probably been hurting for a while then. Riddick left them where they were for the time being. When he saw the brand he winced a little. He'd left it on for a little too long, and the flesh was nearly bleeding. Her right side must feel like its on fire. A new brand, a deep cut, and a lightly infected wound. Undoing the restraints, Riddick yanked off her boots, socks and pants completely. She was burning up. He left her in the bedroom, unrestrained this time.
Riddick made sure anything dangerous was out of reach. His goggles were still hanging up on the wall, he didn't need to wear them here, the maximum light possible was only mildly discomfiting. Walking into the shower, he relished the opportunity to relax. It was his only idiosyncratic habit, but he loved to sit in the shower in the dark, letting the water fall on him like rain.
When he returned, he noticed her fever had dropped, most likely from the small amount of penicillin in the sedative. Riddick also saw that her underwear was slick with sweat and blood and could infect the wound. As quickly as he could, he pulled them off and pulled up the smallest pair of boxers he could find. They were still too big. She looked so vulnerable. Her compact, toned and very feminine figure was emphasised by the tight bandage around her chest and the boxer shorts riding low on her hips. He shrugged and put her back on the bed. Suddenly feeling like leaving, he took the time to grab all his clothes and what remained of hers and washing them. Just great. My conscience always seems to crop up at the worst times. If it had appeared when I was killing my first person, would I even be here now? Instead, I'm feeling fuckin' gallant for this little pickpocket. I'm too goddamn chivalrous sometimes. Yeap, that's me. Sir-Shiv-a-lot. He laughed quietly.
The clothes were automatically folded and lay in the chute. Suddenly tired, he left them there and walked back. He lay on the bed and studied her. His feelings were not as bloodthirsty as before, now he lay staring at her eminently desirable body and profile. She moaned in her sleep and again he had to stop himself from touching her. The lights were already off, but he pulled her close to him, and again he slept with one arm under her head and one arm around her body, hugging her close. She fit snugly around his body. My own little doll. He fell asleep against her relaxed body.