Author: goddessofbirth PM
They say every person has one, but sometimes you have to cross galaxies to find them... River, Riddick. Part of the Spiral-verse.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Sci-Fi - & River - Words: 816 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 28 - Follows: 4 - Published: 11-17-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6485721
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit.
A/N: Written for the prompt 'captivating' from artandlight.
There was the satisfying sound of cartilage rending as Riddick squeezed his fist closed. With a roar he lifted the man-but-not-man off the floor and twisted his fingers harshly, feeling the flesh give and rip. He tossed the mutilated carcass aside and turned to face the next opponent.
He had no idea what they were, these demons with men's faces, ripped and shredded and depraved past anything he had ever dreamed of in his long career as criminal, murderer and now, ironically, ruler. And he had no clue how they had found him and his Necromonger crew on their quest to find a safe burial place for Kyra's body, far from the wars now ripping across his galaxy.
The who's and how's didn't matter, though. Not after they had torn through his men in minutes. Not after what they had done to Kyra before he had managed to beat them from her coffin...
He swung his leg out and caught a slavering beast across the middle, knocking him back. He ducked to dodge the blow of an ax and grabbed the handle, using his momentum to pull the blade into the man, rending him from sternum to groin. A fine spray of blood wet his face, adding to the carnage already painted there. He hefted his new weapon in his hand and waited for the next assault.
He was trapped in the bridge of the ship, and while the narrow door helped him stem the tide, there were droves of the creatures. He knew that despite his skill and strength, the chances of his survival were slim, but he intended to drag as many of them as possible along with him to hell.
Another monster barred his teeth and growled, and Riddick snarled in response before splitting his skull with the blade of the ax.
As he battled on, his hands growing damp with sweat and his feet threatening to slip on a floor slick with blood and body parts, he gradually became aware of an out of place noise. Far away, to the back of the ship, was the clanging sound of metal on metal.
He brought his boot down on the face of yet another mad man and felt it collapse under his weight, and it dawned on him that someone was out there, had found him on this god forsaken planet, and was fighting with him. His mind briefly flashed to Fry and Kyra.
No one was going to die for him again.
With a roar of pure fury, he swung the ax in a wide arc and carved a pathway through the door and to the hold. He was surrounded on all sides, but far on the other end of the cavernous room, he could see, faintly flashing, two blurring blades of metal slicing through flesh. He couldn't see their owner, so instead it was those blades, that sound, that he fought toward.
His goggles had long since fallen victim to the battle, but the bay was dark enough that the extra light became merely an annoyance, not a hindrance. His vision tunneled on the dull gleam of the whirling blades while the instinct that had always kept him alive took over.
What could have been hours passed and there came a moment when his ax sliced through the belly of a monster and there were no more to take his place. His muscles aching and his chest heaving, he raised his eyes and had a clear view of his comrade in arms for the first time.
She stood a dozen paces away from him, calm and still among the bodies surrounding her. She was tiny, as small as Jack had been when they had first met, and about as developed, although he could tell she was an adult. She had two katanas gripped in either hand, blood dripping down the blades. Her hair was matted with bits of red and flesh and her skin and clothes were similarly smeared.
She spoke, barely a whisper.
'The king stood at the door and knock, knock, knocked, and serenity let him in.'
He was aware of others joining her: a man that rivaled him in size, an amazonian woman, and a gunslinger, but he ignored them, captivated by the killer in front of him. He watched as she cocked her head to one side and studied him, from the tips of his gore encrusted boots to the top of his shaved and bloody head and then returned to look, unblinking, into his burnished orbs. Her brown eyes didn't flinch or falter, and her gaze told him everything he needed to know.
She was a murderer, a psychotic, a freak.
Just like him.