By: MataruDoukotsu

Taming the Beast

Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Riddick universe, no matter how sad it is. One thing is for sure, Riddick is hot. The one man who can pull off buff and bald is Vin Diesel and the character he plays in this series.

Now on to the story.

Something new:

'.' basically means flitting between the present and the past really fast…too fast to actually be a flash back.

Now you can go on to the story .

"…I'm gonna take 'em all down; Riddick, Damion and Slade. They ain't all that they're made out to be…fucking nobodies. Bastard convicts, all of 'em."

Toombs sipped on a sherry as a bunch of loud mouthed green-hunters chattered at the bar. Calmly he listened to the leader's snobby comments, a sliver of ire jolting through him. If Slade were here, she'd laugh her ass off in front of them, finish her White Russian, then turn around and skull-fuck 'em…slowly. The captain smirked at his thoughts, wishing that very moment that the fem-convict who everybody thought was a man had been sitting in front of him, in the empty seat.

"Eh, buddy if you wanna go after that bastard Slade, I'd get with that fella over there. 'E's been tracking 'im down for three years or more now. Practically knows how the guy works."

Toombs heard the bartender speak softly to the newbies, then felt the weight of the group's gazes on his skull. There was a shuffle of feet and gear before the snobby voice of the green-Merc scraped against his ears.

"So I hear yer trackin' the bastards Slade and Damion. Seems to me those three years of tracing their steps, only goes to show you how obsolete you are, pop."

Pop! I ain't that old buddy! Despite his angry thoughts, Toombs calmly set his sherry down with a soft audible 'click'. Not even turning his head to look at the young buck, he answered. "First rule in this business: Learn yer prey; understand him. Second rule: don't get killed by being a fuckin' dumb ass."

"That's all you gotta say ta me, pop!" The youth asked angrily.

"No…but what I do have to say is: Never underestimate your opponent." With the speed earned by years of dodging shivs and bullets, Toombs snaked his left forearm around the younger man's waist to pull a knife free from the waistband, lifted his body from his seat, and twisted the boy around so that his face was smashed against a nearby support beam. Toombs' right forearm pressing against his exposed cheek and neck, the curly haired Merc quickly yanked his left arm around and pressed the blade of the boy's own knife against a vertebrae, the left of his spinal cord.

Toombs could feel the youth panting harshly while he was breathing as if nothing had happened. "Just to the left of the spine, fourth lumbar down, the abdominal aorta. It's called the Sweet Spot. Bury this knife there and I'll have yer blood staining my hands in less than two minutes flat. Would you like to know who happened to teach me that, boy?" Toombs snarled.

"Yer fuckin' teachers-"

"Wrong." He pressed the knife closer, a silent threat. "Slade. You learn a lot from convicts if you get the chance and play yer cards right, boy."

Whirling away from the green-hunter, Toombs slipped the knife into his own waistband, downed the sherry and marched toward the door, scowling darkly. "Remember that, you brown-nosed, piss drinking, cock teasing, cum by gut guzzling gutter pussy."

He continued his pace even after he had removed himself from the low lighted bar and straight out into the darkness of New London. Gazing at the lights of the city, he snarled before turning the opposite way; straight into the barely lit alleyways of warehouses, clubs and bars.

About five blocks down, Toombs heard the very soft sounds of someone jogging. Grumbling, the Merc pulled out a cigarette and fished many pockets before finding his lighter.

"Whaddya want, kid?" he asked as he heard the person stop to the side of him. "If you don't speak up soon, I'm gonna leave. Yer wastin' my time."

"Wait!" the youth called as Toombs began to walk. The Merc obliged. "Wait…I heard you were trackin' the Con-X…Slade."

A moment of silence as Toombs stiffened slightly.

"I wanna help you go after her."

To say that Jason Gabriel Toombs was shocked that this…this –child! knew Slade's true gender put him slightly on the defensive for the convict. Toombs roughly grabbed the tall and muscular youth and thrust him against one of the nearest alleyway's brick walls. "What. Do. You. Want." he growled as the first few drops of rain splattered on his head.

The tanned almost Asian looking young male nearly rolled his eyes, but the smile came easy. "I already told you, Jason Toombs, I wanna help you chase Slade and Damion in this game you three have going on."

After a moment of contemplation on Toombs' part, he spoke as the sky opened his arms and allowed rain to fall heavily on them. "What's yer name kid?"

"Everyone calls me Sea-breeze." The boy no older than twenty smirked gently.

"Alright, Sea-breeze, there's only three rules. Rule one: When I give an order, you follow it. Rule two: Keep up. And Rule three: Use yer instincts and brain at all times. If you live after an encounter with one of them, they'll accept you into their game, whether that be fortunately or ill-will, I won't give a shit." Toombs watched as the boy smiled. This kid ain't gonna last a second against Lil' Fox, much less Damion or worse…Slade and Riddick. Shaking his head as if to rid it of his thoughts, the brown haired man sneered at the youth, "I'll meet you at the Brooke and Bark Café tomorrow at 0900 hours sharp. If yer not there, I'll leave with out ya. Now get outta here."

Toombs watched as the young Merc ran back the way he came, before turning on his heel and continuing down the alleyway. The rain had already plastered his curly brown hair to his head and face, Toombs was glad that all his gear was waterproof. The alleys were dark, but the slight shine of the rain bouncing off the asphalt and the materials lining the way helped him see.

Well, now I need to recruit at least one more or maybe two. All I know is that a four man crew isn't gonna cut it. As thoughts along these lines entered his head, he calmly continued into the maze of New London's underbelly. Every now and then he thought he heard someone following him, but after looking over both shoulders into the dim lighted darkness that fell behind and in front of him, he just shrugged it off; only to tense again thinking he heard the slight teasing creak of leather and neoprene boots and a note of chains clinking together. I'm just over paranoid, that's all.

The rain began to fall harder, and this time he was sure he heard the very soft sound of boots against brick, and chain against metal. Swinging his head to the left and to the right, Toombs twisted his body around, trying to see all of his surroundings. A low growl filled the air in the area, making his suspicions come to life and he felt that sliver of fear crowd at the bottom of his stomach.

The fear of the Dark.

"Mommy, why don't the Boogie Man come out into the park at night?" the little boy asked his mother as he held her hand and walked with her through the dark and misty tree lined park.

"Because, Jason, he lives in the closet instead." His mother answered. They continued to walk in the silence of the open area, their breaths puffs of white in the air.

"No, I'm not going to remember that." Toombs snarled to himself, yet he could not help the foreboding sensation that grew in his body. He kept his eyes open and searching in the rain.

"Mommy? What's wrong?" Jason asked, looking up into his mother's tense face as she stood still, looking back into the darkness that nipped at their heels. He watched as she turned to face him.

"Nothing, Jason; nothing." She answered before glancing to her left and to her right and started walking again at a brisker pace.

"Mommy?" he asked worriedly and his gaze questioning.

"Stop. I don't want to remember." Toombs whispered, grinding his teeth. He shivered as a rivulet began down the back of his neck, past the collar of his shirt and down his back. His plea went unheard and his mind's eye was flooded with the scenes.

"Come on, Jason. Hurry, love. You don't want the Boogie man to get us, do you?"

Jason caught the playful glint in his mother's eyes as she looked down at him, and he quickly smiled up at her, his eyes closing upon doing so. As his brown orbs opened, in horror he watched as two arms born only of the encroaching darkness lay their hands on his mother's shoulders.

Something registered in her green irises that Jason would know later as terror as she was yanked from his grasp. Her mouth split to form a scream, yet nothing came out as she was bodily picked up by the shoulders and then vanished into the darkness; never to be seen of again, leaving an emotionally horrified son behind.

Toombs fought viscously against his fear. Fear would get him killed…to fear it would mean that it had been real…

The sound of chain links against metal wire alerted Toombs that there was someone fucking with him. Looking over his left and right shoulders he saw no one though. The tense atmosphere was starting to make his stomach cramp…or was it that he was getting ready to empty it of his food…?

Following a sudden gut instinct, he looked up.

The rain bounced off bronze skin, dark charcoal skin fitting pants with pockets like cargos, dull black leather and neoprene boots, black tank-top and blindfold.

"Goddamn it, Slade!" He cursed, slicking his hair back with both hands. Toombs watched as her white hair dripped water on her shoulders and sharp falcon featured face as she cocked a perfectly sculptured brow in a question; head angled to face him, and Toombs knew that she knew exactly what he looked like. "What the fuck is wrong with you woman! Hangin' up there lookin' like yer attached to the fuckin' wall and shit. Well, I'm just fuckin' Famous Amos today, eh?…What the hell do you want?"

He saw that infuriating smirk flit across those lips- that he had only usually seen snarling and baring the sharp teeth they hid- only for it to vanish as soon as it came.

"I just came to see how my favorite Con-hunter was. As for what's wrong with me…well, we both know the certain dangers of going in that direction of my large file."

A silence reigned between them where Toombs noticed that the fem-convict was highly relaxed in the sensation and sound of the rain. He took the moment to take reassurance from Slade's presence, knowing that nothing would wish to come after them with her wild dangerous aura and demeanor. Nothing would take him in the cover of the darkness…

"Toombs…" the silky growl emanating from the woman's chest gently caught his attention. "The kid…Lil' Fox that is…"

"She isn't with you any more is she?" Toombs asked, finding it interesting that she seemed to pause as if gathering her words; and Slade, from what Toombs knew, always thought her words over before saying them. "Damion was mad as hell at you, wasn't she, when she found out you gave her another guardian?" He watched her as she watched him.

If I had to guess, AJ would be with someone a lot like Slade…same kind of honor…same kind of instinct…someone she could've known in her past…Toombs thought, his brows lowering as he began to pull the threads on this small puzzle Slade had presented to him. Oh shit…

"Riddick…" The Merc let his jaw go slack. "She's alright, right? What were you thinking, Lucia! Yer the number one slick shit Merc killer, but that guy…! He's psycho! He's schizophrenic; I remember him from before I gave chase to you, and before I let Johns over run me."

He could see her shoulders slump just a millimeter; she was saddened by this too. He could tell.

"I know he'll take care of her. Lil' Fox is smart, she'd have made sure she dug a hole in his shield and will make herself a warm home there. He won't be able to hurt her."

"How are you sure, Slade?" Toombs asked, curious.

The corner of her mouth quirked, "Riddick and I are extremely alike…Jack did the same to me."

And like that she was gone as soon as he blinked.

Shaking his head, Toombs smirked to himself and ran a hand through his hair. Upon walking through the maze of alleyways towards the docking bay where his ship was, Jason Toombs knew that she was following him; making sure that nobody or nothing messed with him on his way to the Wake of Darkness; of which he had –in a sense- named after Slade. As he punched in the code to the cargo entrance, he felt the sudden chill with a warm after affect creep down his spine. He knew Slade was near and watching him closely…

"I'll accept Sea-breeze, teach him to be a good fighter."

Toombs had to strain to hear her words, but he understood her and silently thanked her for her understanding as he closed the ramp. He, as always with every meeting with Slade, learned more about the fugitive and her complex ways. As the Merc went to bed, he began having doubts about whether he actually wanted to collect that bounty from her head…but of course he wanted that bounty…!

Right?

A/N: Yeah. So a little bit more into the character of Toombs. Do any of you know the full reason behind this story's title? I'll give the one to figure it out a cookie, and another update without needing reviews. I'm thinking about publishing this with different names. Tell me what you think. And has anybody thought was where this story might be going?

Flamers expected. Please review.