"Who did you find?" The grey haired man questioned his much younger companion. The younger man smiled wryly, he knew the old man would be pleased once he heard what he had found in his routine searches. Though he had acquired the subject a few years earlier it was only now ready to be shown and deployed. The dark hall the pair walked down suddenly stopped at a heavily barricaded door.

"Is this really necessary?" The older man asked as the younger man began the tedious process of opening the door. Dialing in codes, retina scans, the works. Once the door began to slid open to younger man turned back to answer the before asked question. "If you want Project Fathia to actually work, then yes." The two disappeared past the door, the once solid metal floor replaced by grating.

The pairs' boots rang loudly against the metal grates as the walked down the hall, cells every few feet on either side of them. It was miniature prison but much unlike a Slam. After all, put so many dangerous people together and they're bound to find a way out. The hall was brightly lit as well, providing little darkness for the cells inhabitants to hide in. "So where did you find this subject?"

"Ursa Luna I believe." The younger man answered as he began the task of opening yet another heavily barricaded door. The older man nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. "What race is the subject?" At this the younger man smiled. He had indeed found something rare among the garbage most Slams held. What he had found had been perfect. Before he could say anything the door in front of him slid open with a hiss, a rush of cold air practically smacking him in the face.

What lay before them was a massive cage, heavily guarded and heavily reinforced with practically every strong metal imaginable. Most of the contents of the cage were in darkness except for a small patch of light directly before them. The younger man had been able to acquire some Tranq Turrets and a few Turrets as well which lined the walls above them aimed directly into the darkness.

"You didn't answer my previous question." The old man noted, taking in the layout of the entire containing room as the heavy door behind them closed. The older man could faintly hear something coming from the darkness, like something scraping against metal. The young man nodded and motioned to a guard who handed the younger man something.

"She's Furyan." He said nonchalantly, rapping his knuckles against a metal bar which sent a clang echoing throughout the darkened cell. The odd scraping noise stopped and the faint sound of footsteps began to approach them. The younger man tossed whatever it was in his hand into the small spot of light. A lithe hand suddenly snaked out and grabbed whatever it was on the ground and retreated into the darkness.

"She?" The older man questioned, trying his best to see what was actually residing in the darkness. The younger man nodded, turning to a place just beyond the small area of light. He made a motion with his hand, a smile on his face as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, She. Got a problem with that?" Came a cold voice, distinctly female yet entirely emotionless. Standing there in the light was what appeared to be a female version of the infamous Richard B. Riddick. A simple black shirt hung from her shoulders, having obviously been a man's shirt cut to female proportions. A pair of baggy dark green pants hung from her waist, suspended by a thick belt devoid of a metal buckle. She wore a simple pair of black boots, they being the only thingthat fit her perfectly. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail that reached to just below her shoulders. A pair of black goggles covered her eyes, acting as a more stable form of sunglasses. She had to have only been about 5'2" inches.

"Be nice Fathia." The woman snorted and leaned her back against the cage wall. The numerous scars along her shoulders were obviously evident even in the dim light. The old man looked from her to the younger man with a sort of quizzical look. He was having trouble piecing the information together.

"So she's a Furyan?"

"Yes."

"Which is exactly like?"

"Yes."

"So she can?"

"Indeed."

The younger man smiled at the older man's bewilderment. In all his years as a Merc he had never come across someone who had a potential to hunt down the most wanted man. He was expecting someone huge and strong but a tiny girl, this was truly inconceivable. The older man turned to Fathia, a bit hesitant to question her. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen. Too old to be a child and too young to be an adult." She explained nonchalantly, gazing at her nails in the dim light. This all seemed to be quite boring to her and the older man could see her left hand clenching and unclenching as if searching for that handle of something that wasn't there. The younger man smiled at the older man, reaching for a set of keys at his waist.

"Would you like to see her fight?"

The old man only nodded. The younger man began the task of disengaging every lock on the cage while Fathia continued to remain nonchalant. The old man couldn't help but feel the twinge of fear as the younger man began to open the cage. If he what he said was really true she would take any chance she got to escape and to kill. At this Fathia turned to the older man, a wry smile on her face. A collar was held in her left hand, wherever it came from she wasn't telling. As she pulled the leather object around her neck and tightened it she spoke, her voice mocking the old Merc.

"No need to worry old man, I'm not here to hurt you. After all, what can a little girl like me do against a Merc as experienced as yourself?"

The younger man had finished opening the door but before he let Fathia out he stopped and stared at Fathia. "You've forgotten something." Fathia rolled her eyes, or at least gave the impression of rolling her eyes before disappearing into the darkness for a moment. She returned within several heartbeats, tightening leather shackles around her wrists. Though the shackles weren't attached together the older man could see that there were several shocking plates beneath the shackles and collar, just in case she needed reprimanding.

With a heave the younger man pulled open Fathia's door, causing the guards to tense and the Turrets above to take aim. Fathia calmly exited the enclosure, hands folded behind her back. As the huge door leading out was opened their arrival was greeted by red lights flashing on and off and a high pitched siren that everyone know who was out of their cage.

Fathia was marched down the hall, flanked by guards all around. The younger man sent one of the guards to go and fetch one of the convicts, some piece of scum that wasn't worth enough. Turning sharply she was lead down a flight of stairs into a small holding chamber where chains were attached to her shackles, collar, and belt. The room was vacated and she was locked in. The little room was actually an elevator, or, lift rather that would ascend Fathia into the fighting pit.

Fathia was not given any weapons except for a knife that was about the size of her hand. This she held firmly in her right hand despite the fact that she was actually left handed, well...ambidextrous. The chains were just a precaution; they would be loosened once she was above ground and the fight started, though she would still be on a line. No one wanted her fully loose; after all, no one really knew what she was capable of.

The older man and the younger man stood behind the protective barrier that separated them from the combatants. A mass murderer had been chosen as Fathia's opponent and currently he was armed to the teeth. A pair of brass knuckles adorned each hand while various knives hung from his belt, at the moment he had a large blade in his hand, about the size of his forearm. In other words, he was much better off than Fathia.

The lift under Fathia's feet shuddered and began its ascent to the pit above. Fathia calmly looked at her nails as the glaring lights above hit her square on in the face. The man on the other end of the pit was waiting for her to make a move but before either of them could start a voice rang out into the pit.

"Fathia, take your goggles off." She snorted at the younger man's voice and reached up to comply. The goggles were placed in a pocket of her pants as she took the time to let her eyes adjust. Despite the fact that she had been operated on so that the light wouldn't affect her as much the shine-job had still been stronger. Squinting she found her target by smell alone. He was sweating like a pig; it was hard to miss him. Standing there calmly she felt the chains go slack and break away. Fathia was ready for the fight.

The older man looked over Fathia's extensive file. So many operations and so many enhancements, he was surprised that she wasn't a weak shivering mess. "So you had a shine-job done on her." He said the younger man while gazing down at the fight below. Fathia was toying with the man, letting him get perilously close to her.

"Yeah, we didn't want him to have any advantage against her. We even had some light sensors placed just to the side of both eyes so that she would be able to see in light as well. Though they didn't work to their maximum capacity, she can still see better than him in the light." The younger man explained nonchalantly as he watched the fight. It obviously wasn't hard for Fathia to kill the man, she was just bored.

Fathia danced away from the man, laughing at his futile attempts to injure her. She was becoming bored. He wasn't much of a challenge and the faster she got this done the faster she could finish her real objective. The man lunged at her and that's when she made her move.

He was bent low so jumping over him was quite simple. Whirling around she caught him by the belt loop and yanked him back, her knife digging into the sweet spot at the back of his neck. Blood trickled down the blade and onto her hand. Shoving the now motionless body away Fathia gazed at the blood on her hand, smiling as it began to trail down her forearm. She was only just able to pull her attention away when the same voice reached out to her.

"Well done Fathia. Just stay there and we'll come and get you. It's time for you to do your job." Fathia only nodded, going back to her fascination with the blood on her hand and blade. It had a metallic smell to it which she never grew bored of. This was truly one of the better parts of any creature.

The old man nodded, thoroughly impressed with what he had seen. Placing the file on a small table he turned to the young man. "So you're sending her out tonight?" The young man shrugged, watching as a group of guard went to collect Fathia from the ring.

"Will she be able to do what you say she can?" The older man questioned, slightly amused as he watched the guards try to pull Fathia away from the bleeding body. She was completely fixated on the pool of blood growing around the man

"That and more."

"Why do you say that?"

"She was born to do this."

"Meaning?"

"Richard B. Riddick is going to be taken down by family."

"Family?! That means..."

"Yes, he'll be killed by Fathia Z. Riddick."

"But there are no other Riddick's in existence. She's obviously not of the same bloodline."

"He doesn't know that, now does he?"

The old man couldn't help but laugh out loud.