Black with Blue
Jack's POV
Cold water fell over me, knocking me from my memories of Hell. It was warm there.
"Up, bitch," a rough male voice demanded. Him again.
"Haven't learned yet, have ya, ya bastard son of a bitch?" I rasp in my I-might-go-snap-at-any-time-and-there's-not-a-thing-you-can-do-to-stop-me voice. It's slightly disturbing to people for some reason.
Being locked in the dark with light as a punishment with only the glow of a hammer head and a murderer as a hero tends to do things to the way you think.
A booted foot collides with my ribs. "Don't think you can sass me, you little bitch."
"Fuck you."
Something heavy slammed into the back of my skull and my vision spins. A hand roughly tangled itself in my hair and yanks up.
A voice hisses in my ear, "You're going to, I got the time and no one comes this way, not since you killed that customer."
I grin. Try and sell my body and I'll kill the customer.
That same thing from before slams into my back and I grunt. I will not give him the pleasure of hearing me SCREAM!
I wrench my head down and my foot up, ignoring the pain. I'm good at that. I hear him curse and go for his pants.
Oh no. No! FUCK NO! I WILL NOT GIVE HIM THAT!
I start to struggle. A prick to my shoulder with a hypo stops that. A nerve suppressive. Damn bastard.
He grabs my breast. "The usual side-effects of a nerve suppressive is to make the victim unable to respond, even to pain or-" here he breaks off to run his tongue up and down my neck.
"Fuckin' perv," I manage to gasp out.
He hits me again. I almost return to the blessed darkness.
"Do what I say and this might be pleasurable for you."
I sneer; did he think I was that stupid?
"Yeah right you mother fucking bitch."
He slams his weapon down onto my forearm. I hear and feel a dull crack.
Broken, again. You'd think the assholes would pay to get my bones reinforced, keep the hospital bills down.
He presses down on my back. I won't give him the pleasure of seeing me sprawled at his feet.
He starts to rain blows down on me, but I ignore it as I catch a familiar scent. It comes and goes, is it really there? There's too much blood scent!
Riddick's POV
Something was wrong, he could tell. The closer he got the fresher the blood scent. The animal in him was growling to speed up. It didn't like this.
He skids to a halt, he smelt something new. It was a man, drunk on alcohol and power and smelling of arousal.
His animal side was going berserk. It keeps insisting that the blood belongs to Jack, but that was ridiculous. Anyone who wanted Jack badly enough to go through the security systems he'd set around her, without Imam's knowledge or consent, would take care of her. Right?
A drop of blood splashes down on him, he stops. The growling stops as well.
A drop of blood falls.
He tilts his head up and sees two cat-o-nine-tails. There are titanium spikes tied to piano wires. They were soaked in blood, the handle dyed red.
A drop of blood falls on.
There were bits of flesh, obviously torn messily from a body. Sniffing, he makes out Jack's scent. His anger bubbles close to the surface. Someone had deliberately set out to hurt his Jack.
A drop of blood falls.
His growl becomes deeper, more threatening than before. He sees a set of knives. There was some flesh, all of it smelled like Jack.
A drop of blood falls.
The growl that rumbles in his chest should have been impossible for a human to do, but Riddick did it. Some small part of his mind wondered why he was doing this for a kid who he hadn't seen in two years. It was firmly drowned out by the animal in his head.
A drop of blood falls.