Previously on FoC:
Fayt stepped into her living room, gently placing her prize on the coffee table before heading toward the kitchen. She didn't need the use of lights, her excellent memory and night vision allowing her to weave her path through the slightly junked up apartment. Her kitchen was practically bare. Only a small table, the standard fridge and cooking units were installed. Bending over to peer into the back of her fridge, Fayt called out to the man standing in her doorway, "Come and sit down. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Hope you like Chinese, 'cause that's all I've got."
Now on FoC:
Fayt turned toward her guest, noting that he still had on his goggles. "Maybe he's blind or whatever," she thought, putting the food into the heating unit on the counter. Her hands were shaking a little, the only outward sign that she was affected by tonight's events. Even after lifetimes of fighting, the end was always the same, something or someone would die by her hands. A lone tear fell from her chin, landing silently on the marble counter. Fayt hoped that Jack didn't notice, but something told her that he knew about everything that happened.
"Having regrets?" 'Jack' asked Fayt, his voice holding that condescending tone that always cut her pride. "God, Faith how did you stand it with Wesley for so long?" Fayt thought, slowly regaining her composure and turning toward her slightly unwanted guest she answered, "I have many regrets, Jack Stevens, but that doesn't mean I regret that fucker dying. I just wished that I could have made it more painful."
Riddick laughed, his deep voice echoing in the almost empty apartment. She was good, almost convincing him that she didn't mean it, but Riddick saw the truth. He heard the tear fall, saw her tiny hands shaking. He moved away from the doorframe he was leaning on, crossing the small space between them to stand in front of her. He noticed that her eyes became angry, though her demeanor didn't change, neither did her scent. "It seems to me that you are trying to hard to convince me of that fact, or maybe just yourself. Is that it? Are you afraid of the pleasure you got from feeling that man's life being balanced in your hands?" Riddick asked, truly curious about Fayt's answers.
"What game are you playing Jack? You know shit about my life. Get the hell out of my apartment," Fayt answered, barely controlling her anger. It didn't occur to her why she was angry, why those questions were so hard to answer. Fayt pushed passed Jack, leaving him alone in the small kitchen to go to her bedroom. There was nothing of importance to steal, except her books but those were carefully hidden in the wall safe in her room.
Riddick growled low in his throat, more frustrated than angry. He was used to being feared, and that fear made people answer his questions. "What is in the mind of that woman that didn't allow her to see me as a threat," Riddick wondered aloud, staring blankly at the reflective steel of the fridge door. He reached up slowly and removed his goggles, roaming his mercury eyes over the kitchen and living room. There were no pictures, plants; nothing that said this apartment was lived in. It was almost like the woman was expecting to move as quickly as possible. It was much like his own apartment, if he ever had to leave quickly.
Riddick was beginning to feel the affects of a major headache, he wasn't used to dealing with women beyond his occasional whore. "Fuck! What the hell am I doing here?" Riddick shouted, banging his clenched fist on the counter. Turning hastily, Riddick replaced his goggles and headed for the door. He didn't need this confusion and frustration. Being frustrated would only get him caught.
Fayt heard Jack's shout from her bedroom down the hall. Her breath came a bit hurried, but evened out when she heard the door slam shut. Being around someone that reminded her so much of Spike was not healthy, if you can call anything Fayt does healthy. Silently she cried, not knowing the reason but the feeling pressing on her chest was too strong to ignore. Heaving sobs racked her body, slim shoulders hitching up and down. Clutched to her chest was the pink stuffed pig from the coffee table, resentment and sorrow filling every inch of her being.
Sometime during her crying fit, Fayt fell asleep, still clutching her toy. The morning sun shone brightly through the curtained window, brightening up the dreary bedroom. Fayt stretched, working the kinks out of her muscles from lying in the same awkward position all night, and promptly screamed when she saw the shadowed figure in the corner of her room. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
'Jack' smirked, slowly rising from where he had been sitting through out most of the morning. Joints popped, releasing tension that had built up by listening to the small blonde crying in her sleep. "You've turned me soft Jackie," Riddick thought, turning to leave the room.
"Hey, I want some answers. Why were you in my room?" Fayt asked, throwing herself at the retreating back. Her weight was unexpected, throwing Jack off balance and causing him to fall to the floor. Fayt pushed more of her weight onto the broad shoulders, clamping her strong thighs around the man's torso. Her ever-present knife was pointed at his throat, her hand clutching his chin. Her breath ghosted over his ear as she whispered, "You will tell me honestly what the motherfucking hell were you doing in my room?"
Riddick reached for the doorknob, about to slam the door loudly, but cheering and shouts grabbed his attention. A group of four men were running down the small alley beside Fayt's apartment. They wore black clothing, seeming to blend into the shadows that surrounded them. The collars around their necks were harder to see, but Riddick had heard about this group, he had heard about their ruthlessness in trying to capture escaped cons like him. They were the Pack Dogs, a group of behavioral modified mercs that were sent to bring back someone the regular mercs couldn't. The beast within Riddick roared at being caught without a chance of escape, but Riddick pulled back on the beast, logically thinking about the situation.
He knew the Pack Dogs would connect him to the house, and possibly the woman crying herself to sleep inside. The gift, obligation, whatever that Caroline had left him with from T2 wouldn't let that happen though. Slinking back into the welcoming shadows of the living room, Riddick set to work. He searched through the kitchen, looking for anything that would cover up his scent. Three bottles of cooking sherry, couple cans of beer, and one large box of detergent later, Riddick smelled like a mix between a home-run distillery and fresh laundry. He stalked through the house, allowing his new scent to mix with hers, overpowering the fresh sunshine smell. A quick pick out a window, confirmed what he knew would happen. The pack dogs were sniffing around, a confused look on their faces. Riddick wasn't sure if he trick would work more than a few hours, but it was his best shot until he could get away. "Better bed down for now," Riddick thought, moving to the only room he knew the Pack Dogs wouldn't enter.
Fayt was sleeping heavily on her bed, something fuzzy clutched to her chest. Her tear-streaked face was turned toward the door, but Riddick was silent and didn't wake her. Crouching down in the darkest shadow, Riddick set up watch, wondering if his trick would fail and the Pack Dogs would come rushing in, blood lust set upon their faces.
The fading night turned into bright day, and Riddick never slept. Outside it seemed as if Riddick had died in the crouching position, silver eyes staring endlessly, but inside his mind, Riddick was aware of everything. A quick twitch of his shaven cheek was the only sign Riddick gave when Fayt began to wake up. The big man took a small pleasure by watching the woman fully awake, finding the small movements amusing, until her shocked voiced cried out, "What the hell are you doing in here?"
Moving faster than a normal person could, Riddick left the bedroom, mentally cursing his self for staying that long in the tiny four-walled room. His mind so preoccupied, Riddick didn't hear Fayt's repeated question, nor did he expect the sudden weight on his back, throwing his balance off.
Head gripped tight, his throat open the pinprick of pain from Fayt's knife, Riddick stayed still. Fayt had more strength than he first thought, the way she positioned her body locked his hands on the floor between the lush carpet and his chest. Her sleepy heavy voice ghosted over his ear as she repeated her question for the third time. Riddick growled low in his throat as he answered, "Pack Dogs came sniffing around."
Fayt stilled, her body growing cold. "Travers," she whispered, moving her slight frame from the bigger man's back, Fayt rushed toward the living room, shouting out commands. "Vid message to Travers at Watchers HQ: Quote "Pack Dog's have come hunting, and this evil fluffy bunny is taking a trip to the rabbit hole. Got an Alice with me, so no more willow. The Queen of Hearts are looking for more heads Travers, you better watch yours, Fayt out," Fayt said.