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Deadly Desires	By : KrazyKat001 Category: M through R > Pitch Black Views: 2185 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Chronicles of Riddick franchise or any of its characters. I do not profit from making this story. Rico is my original character, therefore is mine.

Chapter List
- 1-Deadly Desires
- 2-Rebirth
- 1
- 2
Chapter One
Rebirth
They say most of your brain shuts down in cryo-sleep. All but the primitive side, the animal side. No wonder I’m still awake…
Blindfolded, doesn’t mean he’s blind. He spread his senses to his surroundings. He senses the light turbulence of the ship. The pipes creak above, revealing the rate of speed. How fast the ship is traveling. The area was a whole shade darker behind his blindfold than the time he enters the cryo-tube. The ship corridor is either dimmed or dark. The metal corridors on one end are lined up with cryo-lockers, except for his own ‘special’ cryo-tube. Set apart, isolated from the rest. How flattering…
Transporting me with civilians. Sounded like 40, 40 plus.
An older man mutters a prayer in his home language nearby. He reeks with fear. Probably flight sick. His nose picks up the scent of herbs and dirt emitting from this man. Heard an Arab voice, some hoodoo holy man. Probably on his way to New Mecca. But what route? What route?
Bored, he moves on.
Smelled a woman. Sweat, boots, tool belt, leather. Prospector type. Free settlers. And they only take the back roads.
And here is my real problem.
Mr. Johns, the blue-eyed devil. Plannin’ on taking me back to slam, only this time he picked a ghost lane. It’s no mystery the level of Johns’ greed. A ghost lane means no mercs. No mercs means no splitting cash. Cash means more dope. Shame, he used to be great. And where that leaves me…? The slam, but which one? Which route?
Scrtch…
A sound. His ears perk up in slight alarm. The scratching sound came again. The sound came by like routine. The sound of nails against the metal and glass. The action isn’t one of desperation. It sounds calm, almost as if he’s testing the perimeter of his trapped area. Driving me goddamn nuts with that noise…
This one is a mystery. This one has a room all to himself, waiting to break free. There’s no smell coming from this one. Either it’s too far away to smell it or this one is trapped in a tightly contained box. Or a box within a box. Interesting…
Learn something new each day. Curiosity has been itching my animal side since the captain brought it on board. Had a feeling ol’ Pop doesn’t want his crew to know about this ‘new friend’ of his. There was no sound of scrapping on the floor when he delivers the package inside. Smells a whole lot like his own cryo-tube. Metallic, oxygen hissing though tubes, bits of ice. Judging from the thudding sound he heard on his first day, he came to a conclusion: Either the captain has a hidden strength of three men or the case was floating above ground.
Interesting… now why would an old man drag a box in when there’s a ship full of cryo-lockers? Tells me something or someone inside that locker is of grave importance.
And the smell. That scent of the old cryo-chamber mingled with the new. An older scent of a cryo-tube is faded but present, almost if it resides inside a newer cryo-tube. A box within a box.
Some technology he brought there. Brings back memories of my days as a Company ranger. Hadn’t seen technology like that since the Company. Didn’t agree with their taste… or their system. Need a reminder to thank them for putting a hit on my head then dig a shiv through their sweet spot. Well, well, looks like the captain’s in bed with my enemy. Didn’t strike me as a guy who’s corrupted. Then again, I’ve been wrong before.
The scratching came again. Been to listening that all month. Would’ve driven any man insane. My animal side keeps grating my nerves each time it came. Had a hunch this guy was a whole lot like me. Wide awake, in touch with our primitive side – the animal side. The real question is: who’s more dangerous? Who’s the better killer?
The scratching went still, waiting. It’s quiet, saved for the clanging of the pipes and the slight turbulence. The new guy’s not the only one waiting.
Long time between stops, long time for something to go wrong.
The rough turbulence kicks in, the floor and pipes clatters loudly. A loud warning alarm wails, screaming everywhere. Red light flashing the entire corridor. Readying itself for the end of the world. The sound went on for a while.
Cap’n, Captain, where is he in this hellhole?
Riddick heard a cryo-door slam opens, spitting out a person. The said person lands roughly the deck of the main cabin. His nose picks up feminine scent. A woman. The turbulence grew dangerously rough. The alarm continues wailing. He hears more cryo-lockers opening. Crew members rushing down the forward section. He notes some crew members are not getting up. Sick, dead or otherwise, shouldn’t someone take care of the ship?
Despite the constant chaos, the noises, quakes. He heard the woman sighs, flooding with relief. She speaks over the intercom to one of the cryo-tube.
“Hear me? Cap’n?”
Ah, finally. Someone found the captain.
“Some kinda compromise to the hull… holding for now, but…Goddamn.” She laughs, “I’m glad you’re alive. Gotta pull your E-release… no, red handle, red handle.”
Hm, the captain should know his ship better than the back of his own hand. What’s the story here?
“Cap’n? Why aren’t you pulling the red handle?! PULL THE RED HANDLE!!”
Phfut-phfut-phfut-phfut!! Cling-chang! Bak!! HIsssssss!!!
The pipes overhead hiss gas in front of Riddick’s cryo-locker.
Meteor particles? He barks laughter, his voice muted through the bit.
Well, hot damn. Dear ol’ Cap’n trying to kill us all. When the hell did he shut off the ship’s shields system?
He heard the woman fell on her arse. She reeks with fear. Scared. Horrified. Guess the captain’s dead. Otherwise she wouldn’t be sniffling like a scared child on the floor. His ears perk as another cyro-door blows open. A masculine scent. Someone lands on top of the woman. The guy sounded disoriented, frantic.
“Why did I fall on you?!”
Riddick snorts. It’s amusing how humans can react under these circumstances.
“He’s dead. Cap’n’s dead!” She sounded worse for the wear. “Christ, I was looking right at him when—“
The other crew member interrupts her, babbling in disbelief. “I mean, I mean, chrono shows we’re 22 weeks out, so gravity wasn’t supposed to kick in for another 19. I mean, I mean, I mean, why did I fall at all?”
The woman speaks up, a strain evidence in her voice, “Did you hear me?! Captain’s dead! Owens too.”
They sound confused, disoriented. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Not Owens, not…. Wai’, wai’, wait. I’m Owens. Right?”
Ridiculous, share your nightmares for another time. Sure, their minds are bit sluggish; their minds haven’t gathered the facts together. Or the fact that someone isn’t piloting the motherfuckin’ SHIP!!
The woman mutters, half chuckling, “Cryo-sleep. Swear to God, it sloughs brain cells.”
Riddick feels like hitting the back of his head against the wall. Sounds like they’re not rushing the pilot seat anytime soon. Where’s their adrenaline? Where’s their sense of survival? My life is at the mercy of these… humans.
God must truly hate me.
The turbulence shudders violently. The alarms shrieks its wailing. He hears the panicky voices of the crew members. The woman rushes to the other room, presumably the navigation bay where the pilot seats lies. Finally! He heard the distance voices shouting shouting throughout the ship.
“…1550 millibars… shit, we’re hemorrhaging air! Someth… swipe at us!”
A voice, Owens he recall, is closer but still far away, retort, “Just tell me we’re still in the shipping lane! …show me…all those bright, beautiful, deep-space…!”
The ship rocking violently. The floor clatters. Riddick brace himself in his cyro-locker. He heard the elated growls howling over the chaos.
“What the fuck was that?!”
He feels a smirk spreading. So it’s a race. Who would get free first? Who will be the hunter and the hunted? Who will kill the killer?
The ship spiral out of control, he can feel the heat rising from the floor. There can only be one reason behind this. The ship is entering the planet atmosphere. Rough ride ahead. With the shield generator down, the ship is defenseless against the planet entry. They’ll be burn to crisp before they crash. Heh, these people never ceases to amaze me when no one thought of turning the fuckin’ thing ON!
“…Shit! OWENS! The shield! Turn on the fuckin’ shield!!”
“What?! … It is on! It should be on! The Captain--!”
“Owens! This thing gonna fucking toast us! Captain’s dead and you’re the next commanding officer! You have the codes so, help me God, turn the fu…shield ON!!!”
“Shit…shit…shitshitshit..shit!! FRY!!”
The scorching heat died down a little. The ship rattles, sending monstrous quakes. Crew members yelling in fright. Felt something torn away above, an airbrake. The glass shatters, pebbles of glass flying, cutting his cheek. Sensing the ship going in a nosedive, Riddick braces himself against one side of the cryo-chamber. He can feel the ship’s weight getting lighter and lighter. The pilot must be purging the loads. Smart girl.
He hears the muttering of confusion, the civilians’ primitive instinct starts kicking their brains gears awake during this hell ride, fear clouding their minds. Ears perks up as another cryo-door blast open, someone plummets to the floor. Riddick growls deep, his nose instantly recognizes the exactly who fell out. Blue-Eyed Devil, Mr. Johns.
Just my luck.
He heard Johns struggles to his feet. The cryo-sleep made the merc ill, nauseous, confused. Riddick felt the pressure grating on the ship; he can feel how fast the speed rate is. Altitudes dropping like an atom bomb. It’s slowing down but still too fast for his liking. The scent from the broken windshield hits his nose – dirt, sand, and heat. He braces himself more securely against the side of the cryo-locker, preparing himself for a rough landing.
The hull is cracking open. The alarm wailing vanished. The ship hits the surface then came hell. Metal walls rip to shreds. Johns held onto the metal pillar like a lifeboat. The wind gust by, shrieking like a banshee. Peering through the holes of his blindfold, Riddick watches as forty cryo-chambers sucked out of the ship. The merc held to the pillar tightly as the rest of the body lift into air, engulf by the merciless wind. The rear end of the ship torn apart by a deadly force, sealing some forty souls to their fate.
Then the Hunter Grazner came burrowing in. Dirt came piling like an avalanche. Lights loses its electricity, blackout.
Fate is a kind ally, a cutting torch tapping shattered window of his cryo-chamber. Riddick cocks his head, like a curious child. Watching the bright sparks aooear through the cracks of his blindfold. He raises his tied up hands through the gaping glass hold above his cryo-locker, his fingers brushes the cool surface of the cutting tool. Taking it, he uses the cutting torch on the jammed door. Suddenly, his cryo-locker opens.
Getting out of restraints is easy, saved for the bit, chains and cuffs. If there was more time, I would have used the cutting torch to rid the cuffs and chains but the survivors are starting to stir. Including Johns, but first…
Riddick sleuth steps over the rumble, to where Johns is buried underneath the debris. He crouches, moving his tied up hands over the merc, stealing the holster carrying a pulse gun. Through the holes of his blindfold, Riddick glances around for a hiding spot. Away from the survivors. Away from Johns.
Lighting failing, sending sparks in its wake, Riddick notices a hole in the floor where the dirt avalanche is. The manhole leads to a lower deck. Power failure down there, complete darkness. Perfect.
He crouches slight, preparing his hind feet. He leaps inside the dark hole, vanishing all traces of the escape convict.
Thud…!
Riddick lands on his feet. And enters into his crouching position. Listening for any survivors ahead.
His ears perks up, a sound.
He still for a second, listening harder this time.
Scrtch…scrtch-scrtch-scrtch…scrtch-scrtch…
That sound again. That old familiar sound. … Stubborn bastard… a lucky bastard, having survive the crash. Time to check it out.
With chains bound his feet, limiting his movement, Riddick wobbles in the dark corridor. Like a predator of the dark, he passes through the debris, carefully not making any noise.
Scrtch…scrtch-scrtch—!!
The noise stops abruptly. Silence heavy on the ears.
Riddick backs into the wall, hands touching the rough edges of the damaged corridor. He waits for few seconds, sure that the other didn’t hear him. He slowly moves his bound hands from the wall, lifting the blindfold off his features. His mercury eyes glisten in the dark as he looks around, seeing everything.
Mildly surprised how close he was to the source, he notices a door no more than a few feet away. The doorway is sending sparks, proving the severity of its damage. The escaped convict tiptoe over the rumble, allowing his inner animal to guide him carefully and silently over the debris.
Riddick went dead still, striding over as quickly and quietly, his back hunching against the wall. His fingers touch the edge of the doorway. Waiting for any sign of life within, he briefly rests his eyes, heightening his senses.
No sound, not even a breath. Nothing to indicate someone is alive. Something smell burnt. Burnt metal but not familiar copperish smell in the air. A sign of no blood. Not injured. No vibration. Didn’t move. He stay by the doorway, waiting. Waiting to hear any sign of life. There is nothing.
The escapes convict lower his bound hands to grip the holster. Intending to lay a trap for Johns, he changed his mind. His fingers grip the gun handle, clicking the safety button off.
…Click…
Not his type of weapon but it’ll do. He snakes his body around so he faces the door entrance. The dark cannot hide from him. His mercury eyes see everything. Certain that nothing, no one is hiding from him. He glances around the entire room; there was nothing except the fancy white cryo-chamber sitting in the center. And it was open.
Shit.
Riddick is snaps his head, searching around. He chuckles once. He was already free. The smartass thought he could lure me into his trap. Ghost me and it’s one less problem to worry about, isn’t that right? He steps forward, his eyes narrows in suspicion.
...tck!
Riddick peers down. There is a data pad under his foot. He raises his brow, intrigued. He bends over to pick it up. With his bound hands, he held a pulse gun in one hand, pointing forward and a data pad in the other. Eyes trail over the details in the data pad for a brief second before he felt atmosphere shift in the room.
A large figure drops in front of him. Riddick drops the data pad, raising the gun in alarm.
The figure slowly rose to stand from its crouching position. The mysterious person is a fully built male, has his exact height and age, wearing a black sleeveless shirt, cargo pants, boots…and a pair of black goggles.
His mercury eyes rose in confusion, mercury pupils shaking, sweat forms on his temple. He was staring a mirror image of himself. His doppelganger tilts his head to the side, like a curious child. Riddick keeps staring as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“ ... What. The. Fuck?!”
WHACK!
The convict fell forward, seeing stars. He felt a splitting pain at the back of his head. He spat out the copperish taste in his mouth. Blood splatter on the floor. Weakly, he peers over his shoulder, wincing from the bright light which stings his eyes.
Blue-Eyed Devil…
Riddick watches as the merc launch another powerful strike.
…
… …
… … …
Hello, darkness, my old friend …
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Deadly Desires