Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

The Chronicles of Riddick: Blood Rage	By : Iapis Category: M through R > Pitch Black Views: 2624 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Chronicles of Riddick nor any of its characters. Only things that I own are of my own creation. I cannot make any profit from making this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Victor Peril, a Merc with the one objective in mind: Money. And I’m to be his payday. The prison that apparently put half a mil on my head is definitely a place I’d be welcomed by the prisoners. After all, I’ve killed about fifteen of the worst guards before I’ve escaped.
But Victor should have been paying attention to the journey than his gloating. And who knew that I ended up somewhere else after some floating time. The question remains though is an important one;
What will happen now?

Disclaimer

I still don’t own Riddick in any shape or form. Just like last time, I only own what I created. Thank you. And to my two reviewers, as well as those that had favorite this story and/or me (Iapis) thank you for reading Chapter One. I’m trying out a new writing style, also. It may take a while to get used to. Anyway, let’s have Chapter Two commence.
“I’ve heard some of what the guards are gonna want to do with ya, there at Ursa Luna. First, they’re gonna cut yer hair, shave it I think. Is that what happened to the guards ya killed before ya escaped? They touched yer hair, didn’t they? Now second, they’re gonna pull the pretty feathers out of your wings, five at a time, until all they resemble is chicken wings. Then they’ll cut or gun ‘em off yer back.”
“This prison must really want revenge.”
“Yeah, I know. But what does it matter to us, as long as we get that payday? After all, we may be able to haggle more on her than just $500,000 by the fact that we tracked down and captured her. O’course, we’ll have to up-play the whole capture thing, say we lost five men before we got her ‘cuffed. That ought to put us in good graces.”
At last, Victor had moved away from their prisoner. She had remained silent throughout the entire time he was trying to get some sort of reaction, like anger or depression. Rosalia merely went to her imaginations of how to kill this man slowly, keeping an amused smirk on her face throughout the entire time.
They may have taken her weapons and bag of items away, but it doesn’t make her any more harmless. And they’ve merely moved them all to a corner of her cell. They had her locked in a tiny room, handcuffed to a standing pole that had only been recently installed, but not reaching all the way to the ceiling. But with the space between it and the ceiling was only two inches. Barely enough room to even slide the chains through, but that’s still a long way up to do so, about nine feet up. For a Merc that loved to hunt, Victor had a crappy and cramped ship.
‘Just a few more hours,’ she thought to herself. But she wasn’t counting the time between the travel and the arrival at the prison. She was debating on the best way to escape her cell and killing the Mercs. They’ve still haven’t bothered on fixing her leg; the bullet trapped in there was rubbing against her nerves every time she moved the limb. It hurts, but it was more annoying than painful. She was going to pay Victor back for it.
An hour crept by since the departure from Helion Prime. Apparently, Victor had grew bored with gloating at someone who wouldn’t respond back in any shape or form, so he took his boasting to his crew, laughing hysterically while drinking something that Rose could smell from her cell. They were drinking a strong liquor.
‘What had ever happened to that law on Earth, “No drinking and driving?”’ But it doesn’t quite apply to a spaceship like it had to those ancient vehicles back on Earth. The chances of ramming an spaceship into another was a million-to-one if you were traveling through space to an desolate planet. The luck back on Earth with cars was ten-to-one.
With a sigh of boredom, Rosalia looked around in her tiny cell. There was no window to look outside, but when did a cell have windows, anyway? In a spaceship, it usually should be in the front port of it anyhow. Less likely chance of windows collapsing and spacing all the occupants of the ship if it was only one instead of five glass look-outs.
Blank and grey walls were her only looking points, and she was itching to do something that may involve slitting one’s throat in this miserable ship. Looking at space was more exciting than the walls. It didn’t quite help that she was having a strong feeling of something bad was going to happen, either. When she had those feelings, they turned out to be right. It might be one of her species’ best ability, but it could just be from all these years learning to trust her instincts.
“Is anyone on this ship going to feed their prisoner?” she yelled out at the babbling voices, though she had a feeling they were too far-drunk to even respond. But sure enough, there was one person that wasn’t drinking, and that was Razor. He came over to peer into the cell, sober as ever. “Nice to see that at least one of you has a brain.”
“I jus’ dun like drinking, though that’d be why I was made navigator. So, you yelled about food? We dun have much on this ship but liquor and rations.”
“Hm.” Rose looked thoughtful at the Merc. “You may have been the first Merc I have met that was a decent man,” she said plainly. Razor merely blinked in agreement to that. “In my bag, I have ration bars that I carry around. Get me one.”
With the jingle of keypads being typed on, the door slid open and Razor entered before the door slid closed quickly behind him. Must be an cautionary thing, and Rosalia could understand that. If she had slipped the handcuffs off somehow and had killed the man, it wouldn’t have mattered much at all. It must be an voice-activated command to allow one to leave the room.
The Merc fished out a bar and pulled the wrapper from it, though as being a Merc that shouldn’t bother to care much about what they captured, he was unsure of how to feed her. Being paused a mere foot from her with the bar, she snapped forward and caught the bar in her mouth, her sharp fangs holding the bar in place as she demolished the thing in five bites. Not one to snap food down her as fast she could, but she wouldn’t trust her own food with anyone else. The Merc may have just been putting on a facade for her to put her guard down as he slipped something into what she would be eating. She’d rather be careful than foolish.
“Thanks,” she admitted anyway as the Merc looked at her in surprise. Let him think that she was that hungry. She just wanted to make sure to have strength. He left the cell after nodding at her spoken gratitude. Now she had to wait some more...
The laughing and the gloating gave way to heavy snoring after some hours later. The only other sound was whistling, Razor diverting his attention from navigating. Maybe reading a book, or working on a report. Rose wasn’t sure, and wasn’t that concerned about it. She may have waited three more hours, but it was worth it. Now she wouldn’t have to worry about the Mercs busting into the cell and having to have her resort to killing them before their due time.
Rosalia looked up to the top of the pole, determining if it was worth the effort to slide the chains of the handcuffs over the top. She decided against it, since she would still be stuck with the problem of the cuffs. So she decided on a better alternative.
Focusing on her hands, she rotated her thumbs around a few times before commanding her muscles to fold up against her palm, resulting to some mild cracking and joints popping. Then she worked with the other half of her hands, her little finger and its joint joining with the thumb. Without wasting any time, she slipped one hand out and brought her other hand in front of her, yanking the handcuff right off of that one. She snapped her hands back out to their original position, flexing her fingers in front of her to make sure that they were working correctly. It was one of the many tricks she had learned about her limbs, able to shift her joints around to fit in different situations. Especially with her shoulders and legs.
One step to freedom, she reflected as she cracked her neck to one side and then the other. Many of her muscles had cramped, and her leg was still bothering her from the bullet. She supposed that she could have taken the time to fished it out of her muscles, but her instincts started yelling at her. At that point, that feeling of something was going to happen, was happening.
“Shit!” she heard from the front of the ship, followed by heavy shaking of the ship a second later. She crouched down to avoid falling, her eyes wide as she tried to determine what shook the ship. It was followed by another half a minute later, and Rose began to get the picture. “We’re caught in a shower!”
“What’s going on?!” Victor woke up in a bad mood as Rose could hear thumping of two other bodies falling to the floor of the ship. They must have been very drunk indeed. They complained until the next hit had them all falling to the floor. “Razor, what’s shakin’ the damn ship?!!”
“We’ve been caught up in a meteor shower, Boss!”
“Well, get us the fuck out of the way, ya damn Navigator! What good are ya otherwise?!”
“Boss, the damn shower caught us in the middle of it, and either direction would take twenty minutes, and I doubt the ship could last five minutes of this!” By this point, the ship was shaking constantly. Rose grabbed for her bag and slipped it on her back as well as slipped her weapons into their rightful sheathes, the pupils of her eyes wide like a cats’ would in this situation. The coloring of her eyes went solid shimmering-silver, showing the dire situation they were all in. Razor had better be a good navigator...
“A part of the ship got penetrated! We’re losing air fast in our second compartment!” another of the men yelled out. Despite being drunk, he was able to read the screens.
“We gotta lose it,” said the other. But Victor wasn’t about to pull the lever and send it on its way. Their prisoner was in there.
“Fuckin’ hell no! That’s our payday!” Though one way or another, they’d better make the decision. To keep an collapsing compartment meant losing every bit of precious air that would triple their efforts to fill the compartment.
Rose could feel a tiny sucking at the window of the door of the cell, and she knew that she really had one chance at surviving. Maybe the visit to Guile paid off after all. There was no better alternative of testing it out another time.
After three more ‘debating’ minutes with Victor and his crew, they had to lose their living compartment reluctantly, as well as their prisoner. The compartment detached itself after the rest of the ship sealed itself from the space air, spinning off in a fast and wild, spinning speed. It followed with the shower before it finally broke through the walls of it ten minutes later. The compartment was in bad shape, but it held up all of its walls. The only thing that broke away was the wall of where it had once been attached to the Merc ship, and the wall of Rose’s cell, spinning with the rest of the meteors.
Floating uncontrollably in her sphere of clear substance of some sort, Rosalia was curled up and trapped within the object, her wings wrapped around her like a feathery cloak or blanket, her tail curled around to the front of her ankles. The Guile planet specialized in creating strange items that would otherwise be scoffed at. It had inflated after wrapping itself around Rose from where she had it stored in her bag, locking its seams firmly. She wasn’t sure of how the people found such substance that was flexible until it became a sphere, but she wasn’t going to question it in this situation. She just wanted it to work.
‘This is one way of escaping the Mercs...’ she thought to herself as she watched the dizzy process of the ship spinning slowly in space while she remained somewhat stationary. But eventually, the ship moved to where she bounced out of the ship entirely. At first, her heart thudded as her brain wanted to panic, since she was floating without direction, without any reassurance that she would survive for long. The sphere was declared uncompleted by the creator of the device, and the man had thought her crazy to buy the device without a way to pump oxygen into it. He was still refining the design, trying to fit a pump system into the scheme. Though it had cost her a pretty penny overall, being that it was still a new design, she wasn’t worried one bit about that pump system. Her horn took care of that problem.
Her horn had a special attribute to it, somehow able to take the air around her and convert it into breathable oxygen, as it could with water, purifying it of any bad elements. The ultimate downside to having such an ability was that it would do it with air without her command continuously, as well as it would drain her of energy. To purify a large room or ship for two hours without any pump system to pump oxygen in would have her almost unconscious from exhaustion.
She would have the same problem with the space she was confined in. It was small and not needing a large effort of energy. But given to the fact that she may be floating for days or even weeks, depending on her luck, she would be exhausted by the end of the first week. Not including that she doesn’t even have much water to supply her for four days.
‘Really, Goddess? This was my way to freedom?’ she thought to the supposed Goddess of all living planets, the mothers that gave birth to all life. The God was the suns that gave the earths the seed to give birth. Whatever gods were out there, she thought that they had a strange sense of humor.
Closing her eyes, she tried to think of her options. There weren’t many of them for this situation. She’d float through space until a.) She was picked up by any ship, b.) Comes to a planet’s gravity and be caught by it to be shot to its surface, or c.) Continue to float until she died of starvation, dehydration, or exhaustion of her horn’s ability, whichever came first. Her best bet was really option A, and she couldn’t see that happening. And if it had, she’d have to deal with whoever picked her up if they were Mercs.
She sighed as she came to those conclusions, seeing a very bleak possibility of her living. She wasn’t ready to die; she still had a score to settle with Victor (if he survived), as well as find out what she really was. At least she wasn’t afraid of the darkness of space... As being encased in a sphere with no light, she couldn’t really see her own hands. Maybe outlines of them, since her eyes were for being able to draw light in so that she could see in the darkness. There wasn’t much light out there in space, just distant and faded stars.
So there was only one alternative left to do, and allow whatever would come, to come. Having learned of this from her foster parents, she began to go what would be called ‘deep sleep,’ or perhaps ‘deep meditation’ by some, as well as ‘hibernation’ by those of no imagination. Her breathing was slowed to the point of almost not breathing at all, her heartbeats slowed to a bare beat every five minutes. Her mind went black of any thoughts, to keep her muscles relaxed and to not make any effort to extort her energy. The horn would still be working, but because of her very slowed breathing, it would save her energy to last many weeks, maybe even months if she doesn’t die by her body’s need of food and water. Her wings would keep her warm against the coldness of space, so she wouldn’t die from hypothermia. When/If she was taken into another ship, the oxygen of the ship would be the only thing to open the sphere around her. Her mind would wake up for the same reason, because that was what she wanted the most.
So unless otherwise, she would die in her sleep without having to even worry about dying. It was the best way to die, without fear, panic or depression. Just peacefully.
- - -
‘The Mercs should have been watching their radar. Probably could have avoided the meteor shower altogether if they were reading their screens,’ thought the person piloting the spacecraft through the dust that remained of the shower. Past the dust, he found the compartment the Mercs had to leave behind. Darn shame to leave their living quarters to space, though they must have flushed something important out with it. If it wasn’t with something that important, they would have deposited of it at the first sight of the shower... And that was about a week ago since it passed by.
His readings beeped, drawing the man’s attention. There was something out there that was still generating heat. Very faintly, but still enough to be picked up by the ship’s readings. Checking it out, he moved his ship toward the object. It took him about twenty minutes before he found the source of the heat. There in space was a small sphere with something in it. From the distance, he couldn’t quite tell what it was. But up-close, there was a body, the source of the heat the computer picked up, as well as by his eyes. A person, in better terms, since whoever it was hadn’t died. Now that was surprising for the man, but not a surprise that left him unguarded. Just curious. Debating if he wanted to bring it into the ship and look at it closely, or let it drift on, he decided that if it was dangerous, he could dispose of it quickly enough.
‘I hope the occupant is in a good mood.’
Directing the ship over the sphere, he controlled the mechanical arms that usually did the repairs on the ship for him. Soon enough, he eased it into the small cargo hold for non-perishable objects. Time to check what he collected.
The ship was somewhat small by living standards, but it supplied the occupant with two rooms for living quarters and two cargo holds, one for those that wasn’t affected by the non-air of space like the tools to conduct ship repairs, the other for perishables such as food. The first cargo hold usually had to be sealed and filled with recycled air before anyone could enter, which was the result to the push of a button. Standing in front of the hold, he pressed that button, and instantly the room sealed itself and started to fill with breathable air, the sound of squelching erupting from the shutting of the seals, followed by the hissing noise of the pump system. Only when the lights that indicated to the man what condition the room was in turned green, did he open the door.
As he approached the sphere, the thing unsealed and folded up on itself until it disappeared into a cube right next to the girl. What was more interesting was that she had wings, as well as some horn on her forehead and a tail that reminded him of a feline. She was laying on her side now that gravity had caught her in its clutches, barely even stirring. It was a surprise that she was still alive, the color of her skin so pale and how faint her heart was beating. Her clothing was strange, purple and long sleeved, the edges of the pant-legs and the shirt sleeves ruby-red, as was the tied sash around her waist, the remaining ends at her left side, and the edge of her cropped-up shirt that showed her stomach. The buckle in the middle of her sash had a strange symbol he could recognize as the old symbol of Earth, with the four elements of water, fire, earth and air that made up the planet. Her boots were black and white, matching her tail’s colors, though opposite seeing as the majority of the material was black and the soles were edged with white as the color followed up to the top edge as a spike.
Crouching next to the girl, he could see that her heart was starting to beat stronger. It must have been from the result of some self-induced sleep. That must have kept her alive for even this long. Though he wasn’t sure of how, since she should have used up all of her available air, even in that state.
Whatever the reason, the girl started to stir after some minutes at last, her breathing drawing in air at a much-more normal rate with every of those minutes. With his blade in hand, he waited as she started to wake up. Being in space for a week would distort her badly, not used to gravity and her eyes not adjusted to even see light. Her eyes closed tightly against the light, her limbs moving weakly against the gravity until her body could catch up.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” the man said in a deep baritone voice, watching as the girl halt her progress of regaining control over her muscles. “Another week, you probably would have died from dehydration.” He stood up with ease, not worried about the girl attacking him anytime soon. She probably even knew that if she had in her weak state, she’d be killed.
She finally pushed against the floor with her hands, able to regain her senses of what was up and what was down. So had her guts, since she ended up gagging down stomach bile that rose to her throat. Swallowing hard against the urge to throw up, she slowly gained all control over herself. It had to be painful in some way, being pushed against the floor by gravity. So had to be the wound in her leg, barely even healed. He could smell the fresh blood trailing from it.
Pushing onto her feet, the girl finally stood up, stumbling until her hands grabbed onto the nearest box to steady herself and get used to the gravity and the cramped muscles trying to stretch. Her eyes finally opened slowly, her eyes silver and the pupils narrowed to the shape of skinny diamonds, trying to adjust to the light quickly. Such an unusual color, but the silver faded sure enough to the color of deep brown, the lighter color feathered along the edges.
Looking up, she could see the man standing there with his arms crossed, just watching her through his goggles. She wasn’t sure what he was to her, friend or foe. But she knew that he was right; she was lucky to be alive.
“H.... how long had I been d...drifting?” she said at last, her voice cracked and dry-sounding from the lack of use.
“‘Bout a week by my computer’s readings,” the man answered easily. “The Mercs’ must have dumped you as last resort.” A harsh laugh left the girl’s throat, nearly causing a convulsion between the laughing and dry-coughing.
“Didn’t want to loose half a mil of payday...” she spat out after calming the coughs. She must not be thinking clearly just yet, admitting to someone she didn’t know how much she was worth. “I hope they survived so that I could return a few favors.”
“Half a mil is an awful lot to dispose of,” the man said quietly, in which the girl suddenly seemed to remember that she didn’t even know if he was a Merc looking for an easy payday. “Not as much as I’m worth, though.” This brought the girl’s head up to look at him in surprise. “If you were any paler, the light would have went right through ya,” he said instead, commenting on her skin’s lack of color from a week of space-drift. “I suppose I could spare some food and water for ya. You’re gonna need it to get stronger.”
She was confused at the casual suggestion. Surely he would be worried that she’d get strong to attack him? Unless... He was confident that he could protect himself, even kill her without an effort. The aura of him said so. He had killed many times to defend himself. Well, if he wanted to kill her, she would have been killed once the sphere collapsed, or just let her drift on to die eventually... She was there alive on the man’s curiosity and limited generosity.
Something caught his attention as she began to stand on her own without having to hold herself up. A swinging pendant on her neck was the source of his attention, and he was surprised. It turned out to be the same pendant from the holy man, the one he placed at the holy man’s ruined home for his child and wife. Now the girl had it as though it was a gift, or a prize.
“Where did you get the pendant?” he said in a tone that told the girl that he would become violent if she gave a wrong answer. She blinked as she turned to look at him once more. What did it matter to him?
“From a child of a friend...” she answered after a minute, and it rung with truth. From the corner of her eye, she could see his grip on the blade he held loosen. “She wanted me to have it on my journey.”
“Your journey, huh?” The dangerous tone had left his voice, meaning that she could breath again. “I’m sure the pick-up by those Mercs weren’t on your agenda.”
“It wasn’t...”
The man turned around and headed for the door, in which the female couldn’t do much else but follow behind after grabbing the sphere-cube. She didn’t like the idea of being in-debt with her life to a man. But she supposed it could have turned out much worse for her. The short walk drained what physical energy she had, so she was glad to sit down in a chair the man indicated for her. He deposited some ration bars and a bottle of water into her lap. It probably wasn’t much to him and maybe had better food around for himself, but it was a meal worthy for the Goddess to her. Controlling the urge to shove food into her mouth as fast as she could, she ate two bars as slowly as she could before taking a few gulps of water. If she rushed to eat all these bars and the water, she’d end up throwing it all back up instead.
“You’ve had to had known the holy man himself to been given that pendant,” the man said thoughtfully as he sat from across the aisle. She swallowed the third mouthful of water before nodding slowly. “So it was you cloaked and looking at his grave.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement.
“I knew the family from my younger years,” she said slowly, trying to figure out the man’s objections to questioning her. “It was you at the grave sites that I noticed.” She had thrown a statement back, understanding why the man’s aura was familiar to her now.
They had stopped talking as Rose ate her third bar much more slowly, not as hungry as she had been before. Kind of became a stand-off, since they both seemed to have seen or felt one another’s presence on Helion Prime and never expected to meet face-to-face since then. To Rose, the Goddess seemed to have a funny sense of humor again. She doesn’t really believe in humans’ ‘destiny,’ nor did she want to. Things were never set in stone.
“So what are you, exactly?” An answer she couldn’t even answer for herself, and the man seemed to know it.
“I do not know my origin, nor the name of my species,” she answered in a flat tone, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Try asking something I can answer.” This sentence was said in a lighter tone, one of her eyebrows raised slightly.
The man chuckled lowly at the answer he received. So she did have a sense of humor in there somewhere. “Then here’s an easy one for you; what’s your name?”
She paused for a minute before answering. “Rosalia Laxzi. Accused convict, traveler, wondering healer.” Interesting title she gave herself. The man could do better, though.
“Richard B. Riddick. Convict, murderer, ex-ruler of the Necromongers.” He smirked as she gave a look of surprise and maybe a second or two of fear. So she did knew his name and fame. She then gave a light smirk of her own.
“So you’re the famous Riddick...” She shook her head a little. “I had been rescued by the last man I would ever thought to meet.” Riddick reached forward with a hand out, though it took a minute before the girl would reach out with one of her own hands to shake his. He remembered the last time he shook hands with another that introduced himself first, though it had been a long time ago. It had been the antique dealer, Paris he recalled, that had been on the same ship as the Merc that caught Riddick for awhile, Johns...
“Quite some claws,” he commented when he had noticed the length and tips of her nails that had broke through the tips of her gloves quite some time ago. She was becoming less human every second as he noticed something more unusual about her. She merely shrugged as she leaned back against the chair with relief from her muscles.
“All the better to slice a Mercs’ throat open,” she said in an almost cheerful tone. She must be imagining doing the same with the Merc that dropped her like a hot potato in space. After looking thoughtful, she pushed the wrappers, the food and the water onto the table as she brought her leg up, the one that was still bleeding. Pressing her fingertips against the skin and following around her leg, she was feeling for something. She must have found it as she gritted her teeth and sliced through her skin with her own claws. Three seconds later, a bullet popped out of her leg and clanked on the floor. “Damn coward... I’m personally returning his bullet to him...” she growled. But here was what was strange; she bent her head down to touch all of the wound with her horn, and new muscles and skin flowered wherever her horn touched, healing it like it never had been shot.
“Neat trick.” Rosalia looked at Riddick before shrugging again.
“I have better tricks up my sleeve.” She turned her chair away as she pulled her bag off her back, snapping the catch up and pulling out a blade sharpener, as well as two other blades from the bag itself. The other blades she carried, she unhooked and started to work on her two-sided blade one. “What destination are you heading?”
“Aquila Major. Got somethin’ to pick up there.”
“No Merc on your tail, I hope.” Pressing a part of the handle, both blades shot out to sword-lengths. There was dried blood on one blade, meaning that she had killed recently. Must have been before the Merc ship, back on Helion Prime. “To being the previous ruler of a conquering race, as well as an famous convict before that... There ought to be some hefty reward on your head by this point.” Wiping the blood off with care, she started to work on the rest of the blade length after she had finished with the other one.
“All the blades you carry, and you have a crappy one. No wonder you carry it in your bag,” Riddick commented instead, picking up a blade from the table that had a simple handle. Casted black around the base of the blade, he could feel that the blade had far-more weight than it should compared with the handle, making it unbalanced and most unreliable in a light and quick battle. Not to mention that it was duller than shit. Couldn’t cut through skin on a first swipe.
“It had been used for my first kill. Call me sentimental, but it had been given to me by a fighter. If I hadn’t had it, I’d be dead those years ago.” She gave the left blade a final, screeching scrape against the sharp edge of the blade. She looked up at him with a small smirk. “You deliberately avoided answering what I’ve said before.” The blades retracted back into their smaller lengths, folding inward and locking themselves in place. “But that’s alright. I’m just a drifter.” ‘A living drifter, at that,’ she added privately. Placing the weapon she had just finished into its proper sheathe, she picked up her newest blade she added to her collection, studying the blade closely. It wasn’t in a need to be sharpened, though she had to think of where to place it for easy reach. It came with its own sheathe, and it protected the black blade with ease.
“Heh.” At least the girl wasn’t stupid as to push her luck, Riddick realized. Many women, even raised in a life of hardship, would either be so timid or quite defiant as to think that they were better than others. This one knew her limits, confident with herself to know where limits were at. Interesting. “You seem to be at peace with not knowing.”
“I don’t make a living chasing bounties like some idiots do. Rather take the day as it is without thinking how to chase a convict through space.” She smirked. “Victor must be at such a loss, and he was only a few days away from the largest payday of his life. I’m probably registered as dead again.”
“The Merc that spaced you?”
“Yeah, the coward Victor Peril. I’ve yet to met a Merc with kahunas large enough to back up his reputation.”
“Neither had I.”
Well, it should turn out to be an interesting trip to Aquila Major for the convict. For the both of them, really. Though who knew what was awaiting for the both of them on the designated planet? As both with large bounties on their heads, who knew until they arrived there.

Well, another chapter for my story, and it seems that my creative juices are going well, since it had been hard for me to write chapters for awhile. Who knows how far I’ll go with this story. Please send reviews when you can, and I’ll enjoy reading them! Bad or good ;D Thanks for reading Chapter Two.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Chronicles of Riddick: Blood Rage