Primal Mode
Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Riddick. :tear: But, I do own Quinn. :huggles: She's mine, and you can't have her! I also own the plot.
If you have a problem with the story, or the way the characters are, don't read my fanfic, mmkay? I don't want any flamers telling me that Riddick shouldn't act like that, or that Quinn should be like this. I do like constructive criticism, though. Just maybe sugar it down a bit… -; This is my first CoR fanfic, so bear with me!
Chapter One
Quinn breathed silently, keeping her knees up to her chest. The slightest movement could be disastrous… She tried to think of what had happened earlier, to keep her mind off of trying to be still….
:-:
"Did you see that guy who came in here earlier and got those boxes of provisions?" asked one man in the café Quinn was in.
"Yeah, yeah. He kind of looked like that Riddick guy: bald head and welding goggles. You know, the one who's supposed to be a psychopathic killer? I heard he's around this area. The first one to escape from a triple max prison," remarked another man.
"That's pretty scary, isn't it? To think, he could be right around the corner. But then again, he probably couldn't stay in one place for very long, or someone would recognize him."
After the men had finished their conversation, Quinn had left the café and sneaked on the first ship she saw. She would have preferred to have just bought her way onto a ship, but she was broke; she spent her last cent on food for the trip. Everything she owned was in a small bag slung over one shoulder….
:-:
Quinn was awoken from her reverie by the sound of the door opening. Her whole body became rigid, and she only breathed when absolutely necessary. A bald man with welding goggles stepped on, followed by a man with more boxes. Quinn fought the panic that threatened to come over her. That's Riddick. Yep, with my luck, that's the mass murderer everyone's talking about. Well done, Quinn. Well done…
The man set the boxes down in the opposite corner from where Quinn was hiding. "So, how long will you be traveling, Mister…"
"Smith," Riddick replied. His voice sent chills up her spine, and she shuddered involuntarily.
"Right, Mr. Smith."
"Probably a few weeks, at least," Riddick said nonchalantly.
A few weeks? A FEW WEEKS? I can't hide for a few weeks! A girl has to eat, drink, and use the bathroom every once in a while! Perfect…
A moment later, the ship's door closed with a sickening irrevocability. That was it; Quinn was now on this ship with Richard B. Riddick, probably the most feared man in the whole 'verse, for at least a few weeks. He's going to kill me. I know it… I just hope he'll kill me fast. Someone else's blood doesn't make me queasy, but mine sure does. Wait! I have a shiv tied to my thigh! But wait, he's Riddick, mass murderer. I'm Quinn, twenty-one-year-old underground… What was that?
Footsteps came closer and closer, until she saw the back of Riddick's head. He was looking around for something… She saw a flash of his silvered eyes, and then she saw and felt nothing, for pure terror had knocked her unconscious.