A/N: This chapter is rather long so I will apologise for that now but please still read it and make sure you review with whether or not you enjoy/like it. Your reviews would be really helpful in guiding me with what I can improve on. Thank you – VA.16.
Chapter Three.
*Riddick's POV*
Secretly it came as no shock to the residents that Helion Prime lost the battle with the Necromonger's. The several hundred survivors – including myself – were rounded up from hiding places on the streets and escorted into the Conquest statue. I followed silently, my goggles neatly placed over my eyes allowing me to see in the lightened conditions.
The high ceiling of the room was carved with ancient languages I couldn't read, the long walls leaned unevenly into the room, the Necromonger's intentions of making this room interesting has failed greatly as the sudden twists and dips made the rooms interior uncomfortable for the eye. The survivors stood scattered throughout the room on different step heights but all placed around this stage with curiosity welling-up as we wondered who was going to be stood there. I stood furthest from the stage and closest to the edge of the room with my back to stationary Necromonger soldiers. Small chatter echoed around the room as people wondered what was their fate. Parents shielded their children with themselves. Lajjun and Ziza are safe, I took them to the edge of the river – which was not far from Imam's body – and watched the bank as they crossed. Lajjun insisted I kept the animal tooth necklace Imam used to wear; I didn't argue with her, the tooth rested lightly against my chest at the bottom of my breast bone. It is now a symbol and reminder of a good man that I was proud to call a friend.
The door of the room swung open and then is filled with the muscular body of a average sized man, he wore silvery-grey armour, a long cape was draped from his shoulders with a helmet that harboured the same familiar faces on either side and back of his head. I'm sure it symbolises something in their bullshit religion but at this particular moment, I couldn't give two shits, my eyes were glued on the large fucker wearing similar armour and wielding a metal axe with a blade between his shoulder-blades, the same soulless fucker that killed Imam.
The man with four faces walked proudly to the centre of the room and took his place on the centre stage. A scrawny little man wearing a silvery-grey uniform, not armour – there was nothing to protect him from attack – followed ten large paces behind the leader and was still walking down the steps between two crowds when he spoke loud and clear.
"In this verse, life is antagonistic to the natural state. Here humans in all their various races are a spontaneous outbreak. An unguided mistake. Our purpose is to correct that mistake... because there is another verse. A verse where life is welcomed and cherished. A ravishing ever-new place called Underverse... but the road to that verse crosses over the threshold." the man spoke with a smug smirk as he scanned the crowd.
"THRESHOLD...TAKE US TO THE THRESHOLD!" the soldier's placed around and throughout the crowd erupted into loud shouts.
This is bullshit, I hissed aggressively in my head.
"It is this verse that must be cleansed of life so Underverse can populate." the man continued on.
Quiet chatter broke out amongst small factions of the people.
"Look around you." the man stood centre stage spoke for the firsts time, his voice was surprisingly deeper than I could have predicted based on his appearance. "Every Necromonger in his hall, their allegiance swept away your planets defences in just one night, they all were once like you, fought as weakly as you. Every Necromonger that lives today is a convert."
The room exploded with hateful yells and whispers from the crowd.
"There will be no conversion!" One women yelled.
"We all began as something else!" The scrawny man yelled above the crowd, "It was hard for me to accept as well when I first heard these words but I changed, I let them take away my pain –"
"– You betrayed your faith!" A male crowd-member snapped.
"Just as you will change." The man continued on as if he was not interrupted, "When you realise that the threshold to the Underverse will be crossed only by those who have embraced the Necromonger faith. For those of you that will, right now, drop to your knees and ask to be purified."
"We will not renounce our faith!" The same dark-skinned man boomed from the crowd raising his heavily clothed arms high to signify to the crowd.
"NO ONE HERE WILL DO AS YOU ASK!" A different man yelled viciously as he walked through the crowd to the isle, "This is a world of many people, many faiths and religions; we simply cannot and will not be converted."
As the man spoke with courage, the Necromonger on the centre stage stepped down to be at the same level as the speaker. The two men walked towards each other, as they did, the Necromonger raised his hand to a median height to his waist before plunging it into the crowd-member's stomach. The Necromonger's hand shuffles between being solid and air-like, similar to Aereon.
"Then I will take your soul." the Necromonger hissed before moving his ghostly transparent hand through the man ripping away a clear figure that struggled to hold on. The crowd reacted in a wave of gasps and wails as the man's soul moaned before vanishing. The man's now soulless body gasped for air before collapsing to the floor beside the stage.
"Join him. Or join me." The Necromonger leader spoke clearly to the crowd and sure enough, the crowd shuffled slightly then fell to its knees. All but me.
A muscular man wearing heavy armour approached me with a confident strut. He wore a helmet that hid his entire face except the eyes. The males eyes were grey and circled with dark-skin.
"This is your one chance. Take the Lord Marshal's offer and bow." the males thick, musty voice advised.
I tilted my head to the side mockingly, "I bow to no man." I growl.
The man beneath the helmet scoffed before removing the metal armour protecting his face to reveal a strange haircut – shaved at the sides leaving an tall island of hair running from the front to the back with braids reaching down to the lower parts of his back. He looked fucking ridiculous and with his skin was white with patches of dark spots all I wanted to suggest was a decent night sleep.
"He is not a man." The man replied wittingly. "He is the holy half dead who has seen the Underverse."
You're really starting to piss me off with the whole Underverse thing. A fearsome voice bellowed inside my brain, I shifted my body round to measure up to him properly. He was several inches taller than me.
I try to fight back the smirk creeping across my face as my muscles twitched, "Look I'm not with everyone here." I say, the man's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair line as he tilted his head to the side, "But, I will take a piece of him." I continue on whilst pointing at the large fucker holding an axe with a knife neatly inserted in the middle of his shoulders, just waiting to be used.
"A piece you will have." The male challenged. His armour was tattered and scratched.
He climbed the steps idly holding the axe firmly in his hands. Confidence oozed from his body as he squared up to me a meter away before swinging his axe, his arm fully extended increasing the range of damage. I darted backward throwing away my robe as the axe gazed the air centimetres from the upper region my chest. The momentum of the axe forced his body sideways giving me room and time to yank free the blade from his shoulders. I ducked allowing the axe to travel over my head before standing and driving the axe idly between his fourth and fifth ribs, his body jerked as I removed the blade and re-entered the blade into his body with more force and less accuracy. My last thrust of the blade into his body was the killer, again through the fourth and fifth ribs but instead of entering at the side, I entered the blade through the front piercing his heart. His groans cut off abruptly, his body became limp and tumbled backwards down the stone steps. Crowd-member's moved themselves quickly before getting flattened by the heavy body.
The pale man beside me looked more than displeased as I turned away to retrieve my coat from the floor. The sound of shuffling feet behind me got louder as the crowd regrouped and the Necromonger guards jerked unknowing what to do or say.
"Stop him." The loud voice of their leader said.
The shuffles toward me continued, I turned to watch the man removed the blade from his dead Necromonger guards chest and approach me.
"He was one of my best." The leader – Lord Marshall – sighed but no emotion was injected into his voice.
I raised my eyebrow and replied sarcastically: "If you say so."
Lord Marshal raised his arm holding the blade tightly in his hand, he then released his fingers from around the handle and asked me what I thought of it. My face hardened with overwhelming confusion, I took the blade – making the scrawny man behind him tense along with the man beside me – and flicked it in and out of my fingers, around the palm and back of my hand, each time it twiddled a little more than I wanted it too on the back-end.
"It's half a gram heavy on the back-end." I replied truthfully holding it by the handle to return it to the Marshal.
He shook his head pleasantly, "In our faith. You keep what you kill." he said gripping my hand and forcing my fingers to grip around the blade handle. As he squeezed my hand, my fingers tensed underneath. You keep what you kill. Finally; a religion I might be able to get on board with.
As my hand tensed the Marshal's eyes shifted uneasily towards my clenched fingers, his eyes turned curious as he studied my grip before glancing up at me.
"Are you familiar to me?" he asks, "Have we already met on some distant field?"
I released a small chuckle, "You'd think I would remember." I reply snidely as my body shook from being tense for so long. I snatched my hand away from his grip, the blade handle still entwined in my fingers.
"You think I would too." the Lord Marshal replied smirking triumphantly. "Take him before the Quasi-Dead."
My body tenses as a large group of Necromonger soldiers surround me. Each of them holding large guns, their faces stern and eyes unfeeling as their helmets protected their heads. The spiky haired guy stood in front of me with his chest puffed out proudly. I was gravely out numbered and I certainly wasn't stupid when it came to a fight. This was one I wouldn't come out on top.
"Perhaps, the breeder would do it. If someone asked him." a loud feminine voice said highly breaking into the circle surrounding me with ease. She touches the spiky haired males arm tenderly, he recoiled from her familiar touch. Lovers maybe, possibly even more. Husband and wife.
The women was beautiful, no doubt about that. Her skin was the same colour as dark chocolate with shiny hair to match, her round eyes were set firmly into her skull radiating confidence. She was petite and slender with no muscle making up for her lack of meat. Her hair was tied up neatly with gold strips decorating her ponytail, but it wasn't her hair, nor her attractive looks that strikes me about her. It was the razor sharp feature's her face carries, high cheekbones, thin lips and a strong jawbone that was almost masculine; her eyes were circled with thick black make-up several shades darker than her skin tone. I inhaled deeply drawing in her sweet scent as she smiled seductively.
"It is a rare offer," she cooed circling me slowly, her gazes never quivering, "A visit to inside Necropolis."
She raised her perfectly sculptured eyebrows at me mirroring my expression. The man behind her watched with hawk-like eyes as his lover glided elegantly in front of me taking my hand in her, interlocking our fingers.
"I will show you the way." she smiled, still holding my hand, she turned me around walking in front of me out of the hall and into a series of wide open corridors. The group of guards that surrounded me to begin with followed silently behind us.
The scrawny man followed along several paces behind us as we entered through the grand entrance into another interior of a battle ship. However the inside of this ship was covered in large statues holding the roof us above our heads, the balcony of the second floor was covered in miniature decorations. Large pillars holding the second floor up created walkways beneath. In front of us, a large silver throne was situated proudly, four steps of pure silver metal led up to the chair, around it was a arch decorated with spikes. The entire room was lit with luminous blue light that ran in the ceilings, the edges of the floor and balcony.
The roof was incredibly high. So high in fact the top section of the room was a ship bunker for the Necromonger ships that were not damaged during the battle. I removed my goggles to study the room more accurately with the most un-ignorable gut instinct of hiding my amazement from the guards and the women who has not presented herself with a name.
The echoing sound of the heavy doors closing caught my attention forcing my body to turn sharply to stare back at the door catching the gaze of the spiky haired man. The women touched my face with her soft hands, I was amazed by her lack of fear. I did not fight her touch as she turned my head away from the male to face her properly. Our faces now more than five inches from each other. She stared at me intently before smirking.
"Beautiful eyes." she commented, I could feel her warm breath on my face. "Come." she said removing her lingering fingers from my face and strutting forwards, "The last six Lord Marshal's have called this home." she informed me.
I looked around pretending to give a shit.
"Magnificent isn't it?" she asks.
I shrug, "I would have gone a different way."
The scrawny man behind me scoffs, "Wouldn't we all."
We walk pasted a narrow archway like a pack of wolves, I turned my attention to the bodies hanging limply connected to some sort of machine. Their wrist bound above them, their feet kept securely in place with two thick needles neatly inserted into the sides of their necks. A Necromonger man, not a soldiers judging by the clothing, he wore simply robes with a skeleton helmet that only covered the the middle section of his head, his clothing was almost identical to the scrawny male walking along behind me. His eyes were lifeless and his skin a sickly pale.
"Convents." The scrawny man identified the people, "They're receiving the make of the Necromonger. They learn how one pain can lessen another."
Well that explains the hideous scars on either side of every Necromonger's neck here.
Still gripping my arm, the women led my to a set of sealed shut doors. Two men from the group behind us move around the sides to open the heavy metal doors for us. She leads me inside the darkly lit room which was lucky considering I had not replaced my goggles onto my eyes and now I was thankful that I hadn't.
The room was hideous, the thick smell of passed rotting flesh wafted into my nose making my stomach knot. Five archways were spread out neatly around a small podium then was placed in the middle of the room. A second floor balcony was placed high above the pit allowing the Lord Marshal, the spiky haired man and other Necromonger's to watched. Sections around the room had carved metal screens allowing other spectators to watch from the outside.
I let the women guide me onto the podium, unaware of what was to happen next. She circled my elegantly before smiling smugly and turning her back to me, her golden dress moved perfectly unison with her ribcage and hips.
"The more you resist them." She said slyly, "The greater the damage will be." and then she left with the metal doors of the entrance sealed shut behind her. Locking inside the foul smelling room.
Little bitch, my frustrated inner voice snarled angrily.
"A new one." a mysterious voice whispered. I removed the knife from my waistband and gripped it tightly as I searched the room for the source of the whisper.
"You've brought us a new one." the voice whispered happily. The clunking of mechanics followed the voice swiftly, a fluorescent purple light lit up beneath me ripping the blade from my hand cutting the surface of my palm. The base of the podium dragged my body down in a violent and swift move. My left knee slammed into the metal base with a thud making the echoing sound of bone crunching surface into the rooms atmosphere. My muscles recoiled from the floor making my veins surfaced on the top of my skin as my body tense with pain.
The round of rolling stone echoed around me as the archways become hiding places for strange looking creatures. Half solid yet half transparent covered in a see-through linen sheet, either side of the creatures head was two goblets of what I can only guess was liquid as my body was two far forward and low for me to see. Their faces hung level with mine: two males and three females.
"Making entry." A male voice croaked, I tried to shift away but my arms remain stuck to the floor, the balls of my upper arms cracked themselves free of my shoulder socket causing shoots of agonising pain to run up and down my body.
"The Riddick." a soft female voice says.
"Progress." the Lord Marshal above on the second floor ordered into the pit.
"Gathering fresh memories." the same male voice instructed. Oh no. "He protecting someone called Elisha."
Sharp images pierce my skull. Her frizzy curls, pale blemished skin. Her crooked smile but where there is light, darkness with always find a way to try stump it out. Crematoria, tall makeshift buildings of metal cells, disease and hungry perverts.
"Now we find thoughts of an Elemental." a different, more hard voiced female informed the Lord Marshal and other spectators.
Aereon's voice rattled inside my head; "The one race, that could stop the flood of Necromonger's..."
"Furyan's" Imam's voice finished.
"Furyan's." the male said loud and clear. The rooms muttering silenced and the calm breaths of the Lord Marshal quickened as his body tensed.
"Where does he come from?!" Lord Marshal ordered into the pit.
No reply from the Quasi-Dead.
"Who are his people!?" The Lord Marshal bellowed another request.
Again, no reply from the Quasi-Dead.
"ARE THERE ANY OTHERS!" The Marshal almost screamed, his voice oozing with anger mixed with insane worry.
The Quasi-Dead surrounding me moan invitingly as they know there is another.
"A female." the male reveals.
"Where?" the Lord Marshal demands.
"We find energy." the man reply simply. "Furyan energy. They are Furyan!"
"Where is the female!?" the Lord Marshal orders to know.
The bodies of the Quasi-Dead begin to spasm awkwardly, their chests rising high enough for the backs to break because their bodies bend in unnatural positions. The black liquid spits over the goblets, splattering across the flat stone floor.
"Furyan survivors!" the male yells, "KILL THE FURYAN! KILL THE FURY –"
The sentences of the Quasi-Dead were cut short as the glass goblets shatter sending sharp splinters of glass directly at my face, I arch my head downward to protect my face as glass flies toward my hunched over body. I look up to see the Lord Marshal staring intently at me. His eyes filled with blazing hatred.
"Kill the Riddick." he ordered before turning his back and disappearing back into the Necropolis.
The fluorescent purple light disappeared from beneath me, as I stood my arms reconnected themselves into my shoulder sockets. Three Necromonger guards stood on the ledge of the second balcony looking down on me, as the first one leap to the floor, I snatched my knife form the podium and drove it into his stomach, I threw him over my shoulder gripping his anti-gravity gun and aimed successfully at the two guards up on the ledge. The Quasi-Dead bed were slowly being concealed back into their archways. I threw myself onto the back of one of the Quasi-Dead ripping tightly to the edge. I fired the gun at the spiky haired man who ran into the room acting like the hero followed by a group of Necromonger soldiers, as the beam hit the man's chest he flew backwards into the group knocking them down like pins. As the shell rotated backwards to allow me to stand up vertically behind it.
"Find him!" The Lord Marshal ordered.
I slip out through the back of the Quasi-Dead pit, the Necromonger's in a panic are not very observant so I manage to slip through the crowd unnoticed. I ran like a Hell Hound down the destroyed streets of Helion Prime, fire blazed as crumpled bodies lay to waste.
From the smoke behind me I hear the rumbles of a hidden drop-ship. As the ship hovers overhead I am prepared for the dropping of several Necromonger ships but instead the sound of explosion rattles the air as three anonymous missiles were fired into the bottom of the Necromonger ship. The heavy flying object plummeted to the ground nose first and trailed after me quickly, my feet stumbled beneath my with exhaustion, I glanced backwards which was the worst thing I could have possibly down as I tripped over my own to feet and rolled across the floor as the ship tipped over me, being airborne for several seconds narrowly missing the top of my head.
I stood up and composed myself whilst watching the burning and all its glory of the ship being engulfed in yellow and orange flames. From the streets around me, five hooded figures, three carrying heavy weaponry emerged to stand in a neat triangle of rank behind me.
Toombs, of course, was at the top.
"Let me guess." I say clearly over the noise of the flames licking the air, "A five man crew this time."
"A couple of things you could have gone better." Toombs croaky high-pitched voice says. "First: trash the locator beacon inside my ship."
That was deliberate.
"And second: the more important part. Dust my dick when you get the chance." Toombs laughed thinking he was funny, "Any questions?"
I turn sharply on my heals to face the Mercenaries. "What took you so long?" I ask holding my hands up to indicate to my wrists with a small smile creeping across my face.
Toombs gestured to the women to his left, she lowered her hood to reveal her rather masculine jawline. She stepped forward removing the heavy cuffs from her belt. Her face betrayed no emotion as she clipped the cuffs around my wrists. She certainly was not afraid of me, but if she was, she was very very well trained at hiding it.
As the girl gripped the middle of my handcuffs and lead me to the ship the only thing I could think of was her. How could I have been so stupid? So reckless? Why did I not get out of there when I had the chance. If I had just settled my irresponsible rage after I found Imam they would not be trying to kill her, they wouldn't even know she was alive or that she even existed, they wouldn't know about me. Furyan; this was our curse but the thing that binds us together.
My concentration was annoyingly broken by the arrival at the metal ship. It was certainly an uprate from the crappy hunk of metal Toombs called his last ship. I was seated into a leant back chair where my hands were hooked away from my body and cuffed in that position. I was then connected carefully onto a Cryosleep machine, a needle was neatly inserted into the inner elbow of my right arm.
The ship was in the air silently flying trying to avoid detection from the Necromonger battle ships that were still no doubt searching the crumbled planet for survivors, other people to convert. Once off world, Toombs gripped the metal beam above his head to keep himself steady as he smoked happily.
"So, where do you drop your Merc killin' ass?" Toombs asked. "Who is going to pay the most for you now?"
I must get to Crematoria. That's were she is. I have to get there. I daren't say these words for more than the obvious list.
"Butcher Bay?" asks Toombs.
I chuckle, "They keep a cell open for me. Y'know, just in case I drop in. Plus the protein waffles aren't bad."
Toombs turns to his crew. "Maybe a health club for waffle eating pussy's isn't punishment enough. We probably should up our game."
The girl next to the Asian pilot sighs, "What the hell is he thinking now," she mutters.
"He is thinking a triple-max prison. A no daylight slam only three of them left in the system, two aren't even worth really calling a prison. Leaving just one: Crematoria." I inform the young women. "That is what you had in mind, right Toombs?"
"How come he knows were we are going but we don't?" the man to Toombs right sneers.
"Dope it out." Toombs orders the pilot.
"Oh. I hate this run." the pilot replies with a surprisingly deep voice.
I chuckle, loud enough for it to be far passed ballsy for a man handcuffed to a wall. "I'm not sure about this new crew of your Toombs. They seem a bit chicken shitty, it is always a mistake to tell the new crew what happened to the old crew."
Toombs returned my chuckle and approached me slowly, he positions his face to the side of mine, close enough for the hot smoke escaping his mouth to be irritating but not close enough for me to head-butt him. Shame.
"Y'know," he tuts, "You're meant to be some slick, shit killer. Now look at you. Chained up like a dog at the back of the bus."
My lips clenched together with anger as Toombs words burn into my skull. I leaned back and made myself comfortable as the pilot set a safe plot for Crematoria before the crew hooked themselves up to Cryosleep machines and within a minute, the serum is pumped through the veins, through their heart and spread out to their brain plunging them into a deep frozen sleep. The crew were verbally silent whereas the ships interior rattled gently with the sound of heavy breathing, gentle snores and the occasion mumble from Toombs, the female to his right grinds her teeth sexily. The crew pass the time by dreaming of peaceful places where they can be anything they truly wish.
All except me.