"So how do those things work?" Riddick questioned, indicating Fathia's light sensors. The damn things had gone off during the fight, ultimately bringing about her loss. Ah well, life went on. She tapped the little things on either side of her eyes, hunched close to the little fire that Riddick always had going. "My light sensors? It depends on what function you're talking about." Pushing her goggles down they hung loosely about her neck. A sign of self assurance, little smart ass. "Just give me the down and dirty."

Fathia found the little knob on the left sensor and gently prodding it along she could feel it move beneath her skin. Always a creepy feeling, like having bugs crawling in your eyes. "Got a shine job from someone my father knew. Had these put in so I could pass off as a normal person." With a tiny click, barely audible to Fathia herself, the sensors went into action. Immediately a hologram projected across her eye, connecting with an anchor on the inside of her cornea. The resulting effect was the illusion of having blue eyes while her vision was dimmed to the normal 20/20. Her right eye remained the same, a blank, and pupil less stare. "Simple cloaking device. Renders my vision to a normal level and disguises the shine job. I can only see in black and white though, but colors are easy enough to figure out once I get the hang of it." Turning the little knob once more her left eye resumed its normal state.

What would these Mercs come up with next? Light sensors and a cloaking mechanism. Obviously an attempt to play on his weakness; which, at the moment, had failed. Why the hell had he let her live in the first place? Riddick ran a hand along his shaven pate, having just recently cleaned himself hardly stubble was growing in. The Merc who had been watching them, saw the fall, he saw both of them disappear into the depths of the snow rifts. And since little Fathia here hadn't returned he must have assumed they were both dead. Riddick didn't know what to think of this. It was a good thing on his part but if this girl was such a prized Merc weapon they'd come looking for her…eventually.

"What are you going to do with me?" The question slashed through Riddick's thoughts. It wasn't a tentative, fearful question. It was more of a…casual question really. Kind of like 'How's the weather' or 'What time is it?' Riddick shrugged and adjusted his goggles. "I don't even know why you're alive in the first place." A thought suddenly struck Riddick and he leapt forward, a blade pressed up against Fathia's neck as she was pinned down by his weight. "Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn't just kill you now?" He snarled. But his intended outcome never came. No fear shown in her eyes; no fear of him, or for her life. Nothing.

A light tapping caught his attention as Fathia smirked at him. In the time he had taken to cross to her she had drawn a blade on him and right now it was the only thing keeping from crushing her. The metal object tapped lightly against his stomach near several important organs that he would have liked to keep intact. "That good enough?" Riddick backed off and Fathia sheathed her knife into her belt. The two sat starring one another down for quite a while as the day rolled on.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" A little tactless and not his style but Riddick had to know and if that meant being blunt than so be it. Fathia eyed him for some time, weighing her choices for an answer. Drawing a knife she began to pick at her nails with the blade, seemingly uninterested.

"I'm not afraid to die I guess."

"Bullshit."

"Test me if you want."

The pair moved as one as Riddick rose to attack and Fathia rose to defend. The two circled about the little cave before Riddick drove her back out the way they had come. The battle continued on in the dark of night, snow flying as they fought like any trained veteran would. Blood leaked onto to snow, who's it was an unanswered question. Blades caught what little light there still was and every now and then the shifting of feet would be punctuated with either the tearing of clothing or a pained grunt or the sound of a fist or foot meeting flesh.

Fathia must have lost track of her position because suddenly she slipped and her foot met nothing but air. The sensation of falling backwards caught her body and just as she was about to lose control a strong hand grabbed her forearm. In reaction her own, much smaller hand, grabbed onto Riddick's forearm as he held her over a cliff of undetermined height. He held her out far enough that her other hand could not reach the cliff face and her booted feet would prove useless against the smooth surface.

"Tell me you're not afraid to die."

Fathia shoved her goggles down, the purple tinted vision she had been cursed with kicking into affect. She could make out Riddick's face and judging by his expression this was definitely a life and death situation, not a simple game.

"I'm not afraid to die."

Riddick let go of her forearm and Fathia dropped a few inches before he grabbed her by the hand. Her gloves were rough against his hand but even beneath the thick material he could feel her grip. It wasn't the life clinging grip of one who's about to die but rather the firm grip one would use to give a handshake. If he let go she would fall. Fathia dangled rather helplessly there. In truth it really wouldn't matter if he dropped her or not. If she died she died. If she lived then more work for her. Easier to just die and give up.

Riddick mentally kicked himself in the ass but he pulled Fathia up, grabbing her other hand and helping her to stand. Bending to pick up the knife she had dropped her noticed through a tear in her pants that a rather large scar lanced down her right leg heading towards her foot. He didn't linger on the thought long as he handed her the knife and stalked off. Fathia sheathed her sword and followed him at a trot, unshaken by what could have just happened.

"Leave."

"No."

"Your funeral."

"Fine by me."

Fathia stopped in her tracks as Riddick did but he did not turn to face her. He stood in silence, unmoving, as did Fathia. They both felt the same thing; the same air vibration and that smell. That was a Merc smell. Before Fathia could move she was ensnared by a fast moving bolas that wrapped about her legs and brought her down like a rock. By instinct she turned and shoved her knife down into the ropes and twisted. With a few strong wrenches she was free, despite the cuts she had inflicted on herself. She'd live.

Looking around she found herself alone in the snow, her blood speckling the white surface as a cruel wind began to pick up. Inwardly and outwardly she shivered. She had been so occupied with freeing herself that she hadn't seen Riddick or the Mercs disappear. Damn. Fathia could still pick out the sound of someone lumbering around in the dark and she heard a faint curse as that someone stumbled over something. Picking herself up she crawled over into a dark little hole within the snow bank. She would be safe here…for now.

Riddick raced through the dark, visibly limping from a net spike that had pierced through his leg. He didn't have time to worry about that girl and her Merc friends. She worked for them, this was her doing! Suddenly turning a corner Riddick slid into the shadows, waiting for his assailants to pass by. Just as the footsteps neared they slowed into a cat-like walk. Oh ho, they were experienced. They defiantly worked for that little bitch. Just as the step was within reach Riddick whirled around and caught the Merc in the neck, dropping him like a sack of meat as the snow became tainted with his blood. The second one went down just as fast, followed by the third. This was too easy.

Wiping his blade off he backtracked, slowly developing a limp from the wound in his leg. That was gonna hurt in the morning. As he rounded a corner he was brought down by a familiar small form tackling him in the mid-section and knocking the wind out of him. He caught the sound of a gunshot and the even closer sound of flesh tearing. Fathia hauled herself up, blood staining her once camouflaged vest as it trickled out of a wound in her shoulder. "Lets go." Riddick heard her but he didn't move. What the hell was going on here?

"Lets go, I'm not losing my pay day to some asshole of a Merc!" So that was it. Riddick was up when Fathia grabbed his hand and lead him along a twisting path. She too was limping, but not as badly as him which was slowing her up. "Move you worthless piece of Furyan shit!" Anger practically radiated and oozed from every pore in her body as she hauled him along through the snow. Another shot rang out, this one barely missing his ear as it whizzed by.

Fathia made a sudden turn and released his hand, running across a small patch of open ground. At the other end she punched her hand threw a layer of snow and grabbed something. Twisting whatever it was obviously caused her great pain but it paid off. The backdoor of a ship shuttered open with a clang and she skittered inside, motioning for him to follow. Riddick saw the trap; get him to go with her so she could drug him and drop him off at the first slam that offered her enough money. Well, it was better than being here. Riddick crossed the threshold, nearly being caught again but another bullet before finding shelter in Fathia's ship. The door closed, and all was quiet.

The standings:

Fathia: 1

Riddick: 1

Mercs: 0