Don't own anyone from PB. Originals are all mine. Thanks for the reviews. Change of POV's tell me if it confusing. I put Steel in Italics.

I woke up in a shitty mood this morning. If it was morning, one can never tell when you're under ground.

I had a crazy dream of a panther chasing me through a jungle trying to rip out my jugular vein. I think

my sub conscious is trying to tell me something. I've decided to go back down to the fights tonight. I've

got too much pent up rage. I need something or someone to take it out on. I hate being stuck in this go

between. Things were much better before the big bad came here. I at least knew where I stood. I'm more

confused by the minute it seems lately. I think slams' finally getting to me, either that or Riddick's skull

fucking me, sounds right up his alley. I've decided to find all I can about him. Maybe then I'll understand

him. Yeah, and maybe one day I'll break out of this fucking place.

I walked into the mess hall and there he stood in all his glory. I couldn't believe how this fucker had

everyone eating out the palm of his hand, kind of impressive really.

"Steel" hard gravel once again.

I looked up at the sound of my name.

"Riddick"

He raised his eyebrows in a cocky way and walked over to where I was waiting in line.

He studied my face for a minute before grabbing a bowl of the mush we were getting.

"Not sleeping well?"

The smirk was back on his face. My eyes probably had black circles under them. I decided to give it back to

him, wipe that smirk off his face.

"Not without you."

He sobered up at that and I laughed. I walked away from him to a corner to slop up my breakfast. He stayed

where he was. Maybe I actually got to him. I smiled at that, wishful thinking.

I hung around my cell for awhile, doing push-ups, pull ups anything to get me ready for the fights. I was hoping

to score some good merchandise something I could use or sell. Hell a bar of soap would be great, a pack of

cigarettes even better. I dug around under my make-shift bed and came up with an old wooden box I hid my

possessions in. Tonight I'd lay my razor on the line. These things were damn useful in slam. Pocketing it I locked

my cell behind me and went down to where I knew the fights would be. People moved out of my way. Hell

even before Riddick people knew not to fuck with me. Well most did. I heard people yelling that I was on my

way down to the pit, warning the fighters that bigger hunters were on the move. I hope I get a shot at Adam. He

was a massive guy, hung around down here in the pit. I'd watched him fight and even though he was big he was

a little slow. I could take him, easy. Hands ushered me into the "ring". I put my razor up for grabs, should I lose

and stretched me legs waiting for my opponent. I turned around stretching my shoulders and I heard my

opponent get into the "ring". Good let's get this thing started. I turned around and found myself face to face with

Riddick. What was this déjà vu? He smirked. This was going to be a long night. I watched him limber up, while

waiting for the guy to shout the fight was on. And then it was. Riddick and me full on full combat. I felt once or

twice like I ran into a brick wall. I ducked and dodged trying to tire him out. My plan wasn't working to well.

Hit after hit and he was laughing at me. Blood was running down my face, making it hard to see him. I gave it all

I had, but I still landed on my back looking at the top of the shit hole I lived in. I carefully got up and handed him

my razor. Things were quiet. I might not have won but I gained some respect. That all blew out of the window

when he tossed me over his back like a sack of potatoes and declared me his prize, making all the dumb ass

men hoot and holler. It made it worse that I pounded him on the back to no effect as he carried me towards my

cell. I'll never live this down.