Author: XxEJMxX PM
When Riddick meets his female counterpart, sparks will fly... Follow an untold Female Furyan's tale of Richard B. Riddick. *In the process of re-writing*Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Adventure - Chapters: 12 - Words: 21,550 - Reviews: 17 - Favs: 46 - Follows: 34 - Updated: 01-22-12 - Published: 01-24-10 - id: 5692477
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
She lay in the bed in the motel which had a rather bad reputation, in New Mecca; her dreams running circles in her mind, her body accustomed to such torrid conditions. The open, stucco windows allowed a breeze into the otherwise suffocating room. The curtains were swirling around the rails in a forbidding fashion, speaking of the unanticipated terror that was coming for this lovely little planet.
In her dream she was running, always running, in the pitch black from monsters, grueling monsters with razor teeth and blood on their hands...from mercs, poised with containment-harpoons pointed at her torso...from whatever bad dream happened to be chasing her. Merc or monster either way, she ran. She woke with a start in tangled sheets, her normal curling locks tangled with the effort of her dreams. Sweat stuck to the nape of her neck and clung to her face. She panted hard, taking in ragged breaths of the sweet oxygen, reminding her that she was alive.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up warily, unsure of her balance. Her feet crossed the tiles in a pathway to the bathroom, pushing on the door with her hand that wasn't rubbing the sleeping itch in her eyes. She turned the tap, splashing her face with cold water. Looking at her tired face in the tarnished mirror, she couldn't help but wince at the bruises under her eyes...She resented the lack of sleep running from your problems gave you... For as much as a "bad ass" as she was, she could not pull the courage out of that dark little shelf to face her demons. She was a coward. Even in this current state of the universe, where she knew she had to be on her top game, she couldn't bring herself to face anything that had happened...She was Furyan, she was strong...she was also hunted by anyone who could catch her, Necros, Mercs, and occasionally guards from Butcher Bay or Crematoria.
Coming back to the view in the mirror, she studied her reflection once more, trying to see the beauty instead of the weariness. It took effort to see chocolate brown eyes and dark auburn hair, better described as brown; when it caught some sunrays, you could tell it was auburn. She was raised on what little part of Furya there was left, almost all of the males had been murdered by Necromongers by the time she was born, and she was twenty-three in the present...
As the tap ran warm, she slipped her hair into a pony tail. She knew she would not sleep again tonight and figured it better to go ahead and leave now before they found her. She numbly dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a black tank top, taking special care not to brush the bruises that had bloomed on her ivory skin from a bar fight a few days previous. She put a couple of throwing knives into her combat boots, hid a few more knives in her cargo pockets, and tucked her shivs into their places.
The moon was falling steadily, from it's position she guessed it was around three or four in the morning. The light slid further and further down the walls, glowing oddly in the shadows that draped around the room; being as how she couldn't be bothered to turn on the light. She looked around the room, looking for anything she may have left behind. Not spotting anything, she packed things more solidly into her bag, as her musings continued.
The reason most high security prisons wanted her was because when people got in her way, she cut them down...especially when men underestimated her power and brushed her off. It wasn't easy to cope with, but she pushed all of the guilt and misgivings onto a darker, more shadowed shelf next to her "courage" shelf.
The splintering and cracking sound of the doors breaking down on the floor below hers fully spurred her into action, taking away the previous broody, lethargy that clung to her brain. Grabbing her fully packed duffle, and slinging it over her shoulder, she leaped to perch on the railing of the balcony, gauging the distance down. Deciding it was safe enough, she took a leap, landing on the balls of her feet. Remembering were she parked her ship she ran in that direction, the light from the "comet" paving her way...the Necros were coming, they were continuing their destructive reign on the planet whose sunlight fueled the rest of the planets for light years in any direction. She shook her head in sympathy and swore, running to the ship.
Her ship was small, on the verge of being a clunker. She turned on her hyper drive and flicked through the interplanetary maps to find another planet. Her body ached for more sleep, but knew she shouldn't; it was too risky that a Necro would spot her. She turned the controls to autopilot, and dozed for a few minutes anyway, hoping to ease the cry for sleep.
She awoke to the sound of the inter-planetary identifier, Helion Five appeared in a eerie hologram projection, her ship skirting the edges of it's atmosphere according to her radar. That planet was mostly deserted on one side; she could afford to stay there for one night. There was what appeared to be an abandoned little house as she angled the air craft down, the shack stood strangely by itself on a mostly open field, no trees, a few bushes. The ship strained with the effort of landing, and she was glad to be off of it, if only for a moment. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she set off a brisk pace, wanting to get inside and out of potential view. She walked in only to find someone sleeping on the couch inside, her instincts drawing her to him and away from him at the same time. He reeked of danger, even just laying there. She blinked once, her brain still sleep muddled; before she could inspect anything, she was out cold.