Chapter II
The whistled sounded, echoing through the caves. It blended with the grunts of the workers and clank of tools. Riddick tossed down his pick and straightened himself, wiping the sweat from his brow. He inhaled deeply, his chest heaving. The temperature had risen profusely, his body covered in sweat, his mouth dry. The dust from the days work had settles on his flesh and left him in a light layer of soot.
He had been working in the mines for close to five years. After he left Jack with Iman, he knew he had to keep running. The bounties would not stop coming, and the mercs would never stop trying. If those fucks ever found out about Jack, they would use her against him in a heartbeat. So he left, left her in the capable hands of the Holy Man, and he ran.
He knew there was one place he could go that was notorious for convicts. It was a moon called Barse, off the government's radar. Many criminals found themselves here, working in the caves below the planets surface, mining for a substance called reatocarbon. Its exact use, no one quite knew, no one quite cared. But it lit the mines up like a light bulb, glowing red and in some places, deep in the rocks, silver. It was hard work, constantly digging it from the walls of the caverns. But hard work was all the criminals that lived on the planet seemed cut out for.
On the surface, not far above Riddick, was the city of Barse. It was dirty, dingy, and dark. The streets were littered with trash, the buildings crumbling at the edges. There was no police force, no type of authority except the company that ran the mines. Other than that, there were the stores where you could find really anything you needed to survive; food, clothing, etc. It wasn't a primitive city per say, but it wasn't the largest tourist spot in the galaxy either.
Riddick found refuge here, living day by day in his shit hole apartment. He worked hard, paid what little bills he had, and found himself in the bars. It was usually the same routine. Wake up, go to work, go to the bar, drink every man in the place under the table, take home the trashiest hooker he could find, fuck her, kick her out, and then go to sleep. It was a simple life, not a good life, but it was his life. It was what he chose in order to keep Jack safe.
"Riddick. Get your ass home. Your shifts over!" a man called from a station on a level of rock above him. Riddick looked up, peering from beneath his goggles and simply nodded and walked towards the elevator shaft. There were others waiting for the elevator, all covered in the same soot. Many of them looked like convicts, like a rowdy bunch. They held scares of past fights that they wore like badges of honor. The spoke of their kills, their rapes, their time in slam like they were fucking war heroes, proving who had the biggest cock, all thinking they were the baddest mother fuckers on the planet.
Riddick could give a shit less about these men, about their bull shit tales. He knew he was baddest mother fucker, he didn't need to prove shit. He had his few fights since he had arrived, fuckers thinking they were tougher then he, trying out the new guy. He quickly took care of that, and the others quickly discovered not to fuck with Mr. Richard B. Riddick.
The elevator opened and the men shuffled in, the stench of body odor close to over powering, but they quickly shot up to the surface level. Once out, Riddick hung up his tools in the small room near the elevator as did the others. The surface chamber had two large doors that opened to a smaller chamber that had the security gates and such. Riddick past through and the main doors, spilling him in to the parking perimeter, and past that, the city streets. He walked through the maze of hover crafts and through another security check point until he reached the side walk.
The sun had long since set and the streets were filled with the sounds of the night. Hover cars buzzing past him, screams and shouts, drunks being thrown form the bars, fights erupting only feet from him. It was the new 'old west'. An every-man-for-himself kind of place. Riddick pulled his goggles from his eyes, setting them upon his head. He continued down the dingy streets to his apartment only a block or so from the rowdiest bar.
The apartment building he lived in was tearing away at the edges, begging for some attention from a city council that didn't exist. He tromped through the trash in the hallways, ignoring the sounds of the crying children and the usual white noise. He came upon his door and pressed his thumb against an identification pad set into the wall. The door immediately opened with a 'whoosh' and he moved inside, the door shutting silently behind him.
The apartment was a one-room hole in the wall with a bullshit excuse for a bathroom. The cooling unit was running with a soft hum and the darkness of the room was inviting, so unlike the ever lit caves that he spent most of his time in. The floor was covered in empty whiskey bottles and dirty clothing that he had been meaning to clean for a month. The sheets were falling of the bed, clinging for dear life from one corner of the mattress. There was a table to the right of the bed that had empty food cartons and more empty bottles of booze. There was small refrigeration unit that was empty beside the table, and to the left of the bed was another door that led to the bathroom.
"Lights dim." Riddick spoke. His voice was gravely and grated against the silence of his room. The lights came on softly, illuminating the room over to slightly. He moved to the bathroom and door opened. " Shower on." He grumbled, the water spurting from the wall in the small shower. The water was tinged orange thanks to the shity plumbing in the building, and never quite ran clear.
Riddick peeled the clothes from his body, the sweat long since cooled against his dark skin. He stared into the cracked mirror for a moment, setting his goggles on the chrome countertop before him. He stepped into the shower, the water immediately washing the soot from his skin, leaving his tan flesh clean. He set his hands against the wall and bowed his head, letting the luke warm water caress his body.
He closed his eyes for a moment and relaxed, something he rarely did. In this city, you had to be ever vigilant, his body somehow always ready to attack if the time came. But for that one moment he let his tired limbs relax. He breathed in deeply, his mind roaming. Jack…her young face popped into his mind and he sighed. He wondered how she was, as he did every day. Slightly angry at him self for letting the kid get to him, infiltrate the great Richard B. Riddick heart. He had a soft spot for the girl, and sadly enough, he cared about her well being. Obviously, he was on this hellhole planet for her.
But there was something off, something not quite right. But it was a fleeting feeling and it left just as quickly as it came. Riddick shook it off and passed it off as nothing but a lack of alcohol in his body. On that note, " Shower off." And he stepped out, grabbing at the closet thing to a clean towel he could find and began to dry himself.
The bars were calling to him.
He quickly threw on a black tank top that clung to his freshly cleansed skin, a pair of black pants that he tucked into a pair of knee high combat boots. It was a classic style that Riddick never quite felt the need to change. He shrugged off the shave, his face and head covered in stubble, and moved through the doors, credits in his back pocket.