A/N : Just to let you all know, this story isn't as far along as 'Darkness' was at this same point. Hell, 'Darkness' was nearly finished by the time I first posted it. This story, on the other hand, is mostly still in outline form. There's going to be a lot of violence and shit, but that's alright because we all love violence. especially when Riddick's the one doling it out.

d - Glad to be back. Enjoy this 'mild' violence as it is planned to be worse some time in the future.

TotallyRiddickObsessed - Yesh, glad you like the description 'cause Riddick is going to be there for a while. I'm working on the next chapter right now. Unfortunatly it's only 2/3's of the way done as I have yet to come up with the witty and curse filled banter between two certain people in the very last section of it.

bima - Yay! As mentioned above, I'm working on the next chapter. It doesn't exactly explain Riddick's actions in this one, but there's someone else in it that you'll be happy to see.

The Other Side of Dawn

Chapter One : End of the Line

Bad enough to be shoved into a month long cryo-induced nightmare, worse to be dragged out of it into an even more sickening reality. The merc's words echoed in his head like some sick mantra, infuriating to the point that the darkness howled for blood. The elevator descended and Riddick was barely able to focus on the present problem of the restraints; he kept his hands as close together as the chains would allow, consciously aware of the guards on either side. It took a much longer time than he'd originally anticipated to pop the locks, but a near silent click reached his ears as the descending gears ground to a halt.

The nearest guard turned and Riddick took a premeditated step backwards, twisting to the left to grab him by the throat with a crushing grip. He felt the man's windpipe shatter beneath his hand and growled; this was what the darkness wanted, the beast craved blood and it didn't matter whose. In another second the next guard let out a startled shout, the situation having finally made the connection within his brain.

Blood gurgled from the crushed throat of the first guard and Riddick dropped him, spinning in time to knock the barrel of the second guard's gun aside. The bullet went off with a deafening crack that reverberated throughout the enclosed space of the lift and left a hole in the opposite wall. Unflinching, Riddick lunged forward, knocking the gun away and closing his right hand over the guard's face; cutting off all oxygen and maintaining a sturdy grip, he slammed the man's head back into the wall.

The first time there was nothing but the hollow clang of something thick hitting the seemingly unmovable metal wall; it was not enough force to render the owner of the skull unconscious, but enough that, if he could scream, he would have. The second repeated motion, on the other hand, was, from a logical view, unnecessary; the point had already been irreversibly proven. But Riddick was beyond logic at this particular time, the darkest half of his mind had escaped its confines and was fully intent on making the most of it.

The guard's skull cracked under the force of the second blow, collapsed with the third, and nearly liquefied with the fourth; only then did Riddick release the now undoubtedly dead man. He turned again to the first merc, who was still clinging to life despite all odds, and yanked him up by the collar of his vest. The man's eyes were unfocused and there was a small rivlet of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth; disregarding this fact, Riddick snapped his neck then moved to search the guard's pockets.

He stood straight a moment later, discarding all other findings as he fixed his goggles back over his eyes and opened them to the present scene; any other person would have been horrified at the blood that painted the floors and walls. Riddick just stared, uncaring in the least; the darkness, for the moment at least, was appeased at the sight. He turned his gaze towards the unopened doors, listening to the muffled sounds beyond them; no doubt that single gunshot had caused quite a stir amongst the denizens of this place.

There were footsteps echoing on stone, more than likely the customary welcome party that always greeted new inmates no matter what the slam. There was a control panel set in the wall nearest the door, and though it was now flecked with specks of blood and other less namable pieces of matter, it appeared to still be operational. Riddick stepped up to it, and turned the small knob fixed on the side; the elevator gears began to slowly grind again, this time in an upwards direction.

He waited, feeling the movement of the lift as it was raised and trying not to think about what would happen after he reached the top. A distraction presented itself half-way towards the ascended destination as several alarms began grinding themselves repetitively into his eardrums; his responding growl went unheard in the din.

UNAUTHORIZED DNA CODING
UNAUTHORIZED DNA CODING

A fleeting memory crossed Riddick's mind of another slam and another time, where the weapons the guards carried had a similar DNA encryption system; somehow he figured the result of this one would be something much more lethal than an electric shock.

UNAUTHORIZED DNA CODING
UNAUTHORIZED DNA CODING

Heard you the first time...

The elevator jerked to a stop, creaking ominously as the alarm continued to screech; Riddick reached over and put his fist through the controls, silencing the screaming. Then he raised his gaze upwards, calculating; He reached up, catching the handles of the ceiling hatch in his hands. He slammed open and managed to grab hold of the edge to haul himself up just as the gears gave way. The air brushed past, filled with the sounds of scraping metal as the corners of the lift caught on the sidings.

In the next few seconds, as he made his way towards the center where the cables were attached, Riddick counted; he knew the fundamental limitations of gravity. On the dirtball that was Old Earth, the acceleration of the planet's gravitic pull was approximately three hundred twenty kilometers per hour, give or take. This was not Old Earth, the pull was slightly stronger and thus the rush of the fall was slightly faster; a three minute descent was turned into a drop of twenty seconds.

The bottom of the lift smashed into the ground with a resounding crash and, though the elevator itself was made to withstand such forces, the passengers usually were not. Riddick did the only thing he could do, given the circumstances; he jumped.

The main cavern started to fill with the sounds of the lift grinding to a halt at the bottom of the elevator shaft; it was always the weaker, less hardened members of the population who found the courage to make up the welcome party. Sameth King crouched in the shadows, half hidden behind a cluster of stalagmites, his eyes focused on the doors; he like the others had heard and tensed at the muffled gunshot that had echoed out. Now there was general confusion amongst them at the sounds of the elevator being raised without disgorging its passengers; this of course, meant one of two things.

King closed his eyes and began to count; he knew the exact number needed to be totaled, for he had tried this same exact stunt himself when he'd first arrived. It was a rather rude awakening to find out the hard way that the elevator was rigged; how efficiently he'd divined from several repeated tries afterwards. Today, however, the warning from Colt echoed sharply in his mind, so he decided to simply be the observer.

The grating screech of the alarms reached King's ears and he grinned despite himself, familiar with those sounds; not even a few seconds later they were abruptly silenced.

What'd he do, rip out the controls?

A few of the lesser denizens were slightly panicked, unsure of what to do when suddenly the sounds of a very large something falling with only a little resistance began to whittle away at their resolve. The following crash caused several of them to back up a few dozen steps, nervous glances being cast on either side; there were murmurs of which King ignored. He stood up, having seen and heard enough, and moved towards one of the many side passageways that littered the caverns.

He passed by Colt, still holed up in his little notch in the wall; the older man gave him a slight nod of recognition which, though marked, was not returned. King was one of the very few who could walk through Colt's radar and come out physically and mentally unscathed; it was a special trick of sorts that only three others in Crete could get away with. It was almost a source of jealousy amongst the other inmates, to be in the old man's good graces, though no one would admit it.

King, however, had the special privilege of knowing the full story behind Colt's extended stay at Crete; he was as close a friend as the old man would allow. It had never occurred to King that, in telling the old man his own story, he'd created that knotted loop.

Listening to the echo of his own footsteps, King walked down the corridor into the lower reaches of Crete. Down beneath the catwalks were the labyrinthine halls and side passages that made up the sealed caverns of the rock; the majority of it was center beneath the guard tower that sat topside, very little of the actual prison extended into the outer edges of the caverns. It was towards these fringes that King headed, descending the multitude of chain ladders and bridges. Since the rest of the population was currently occupied, he wasn't bothered as he reached the lower halls; the ladders ended abruptly, but still he climbed down, using handholds that he'd carved in the stone walls himself.

It was darker in the lower reaches, dark enough to ward off anyone who tried to follow him, but King knew these passages well; he was one of the very few who dared to climb down this far into the caves. Silently he moved down the narrow corridors that permeated this level, the air was cold and damp but he ignored it. The walls came close together at one point, narrowing until it was only possible to slide through sideways unless you knew about the wider opening roughly fifteen feet higher; he climbed it easily, crawling through to drop down the other side of the wall into what could relatively be referred to as his home, though it was more of a place to stash his collection of pilfered objects than a place to live.

There were boxes of canned goods stolen from the kitchens stacked neatly in one corner, several blades he'd made himself stashed in various nooks, and a carton of Colt's favorite brand of cigarettes for bartering when he wanted to talk. In the corner was what could have served for a bed, but was really just a pile of tattered blankets; the small chamber was lit by a single rewired lamp nicked from one of the upper passages. It was flickering and King glanced up at it in slight concern.

Gonna have to replace that soon.

Sighing, he sat down on his makeshift bed and looked up at the wall; scratched into the smooth black surface was a wide collection of twisted lines that, to the casual observer, made no sense. Next to these etchings were a smaller collection of marks, mere tallies carved into the rock; one such group held just three, another held four, and the final held thirteen. He reached up and brushed a hand over the thirteen markers, lingering over it for a second; then suddenly a distorted scream reached his ears, echoing a thousand times over through the caverns.

He turned his head towards the sound, self-preservation preventing him from investigating the silence that followed.

From atop the outside of the lift, Riddick found the wires for the interior controls; he waited until the outer doors had opened completely before messing with them. In the few seconds it took him to detach and rework the control mechanisms, half of the welcome party had filtered into the chamber below. He could hear them, arguing over who had grabbed the discarded guns; logic dictated he let them kill themselves over the possession of the two weapons, but the beast in the darkness still wanted to have some fun.

He reattached the wires and listened to the startled shouts of those below as the doors slammed shut again, trapping them inside. Removing his goggles, he kicked apart the light conduit, plunging the lift below into absolute darkness; as he expected, the ones who had appropriated the guns decided to waste their ammunition on firing at the ceiling. Dropping silently back into the chaos, Riddick avoided the hassle of getting caught by stray bullets; the clips emptied soon enough and in the darkness they couldn't find the extra clips, though of course they searched.

They smelled of fear; he struck, lashing out at the nearest one so fast that the sound of his own neck snapping reached his ears before he realized he was dead. Riddick took the makeshift blade from the man's hand before dropping his now lifeless body; the others were in a panic, having heard the sickening snap that had heralded their comrade's demise. Lunging away from this one kill, Riddick's stolen blade slammed into the chest of the nearest person, knocking him to the floor.

Yanking the knife back, a small chunk of flesh coming with it, Riddick spun low and sliced through the Achilles' tendon of the next man; he went down only to have his neck crushed by his assailant's boot. Swinging the knife in an upwards arc as he stood, Riddick hit the fourth in the gut, though this one was wearing a thicker layer of rags than the others; it snagged the knife, preventing it from cutting into his abdomen.

This bought three seconds of time in which the remaining member of the welcome party managed to find one of the dead guard's clips and fit it into his gun; he turned and pulled the trigger only to find that it was his comrade on the other end. The bullets tore the man apart, and Riddick, sidestepping from behind him, pivoted to his right to slam his fist into the remaining man's skull, cutting off his shout of terror; the blow sent him reeling back into the wall with such a force that his skull cracked against the metal. Riddick bent down slit his throat, kicking the gun aside as he did so; a second later he stood, glaring down at the bloody sight he had created.

Did not know who they were fucking with.