Disclaimer: I don't own the recognizable characters or places mentioned in this obvious work of fiction.

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Author's Note: Wow –It's been eight years since I initially posted this fan-fiction on the site. Like the rest of my fan-fiction, it hasn't been forgotten, just postponed. I have spent the last few weeks rewriting the earlier chapters, both for continuity and because they were in gross need of improvement. I can't promise that future updates will be regular, but they will at least be coming. Welcome to all my new readers, and job well done to my old readers who even after all this time, have stuck by me. I really encourage everyone to reread this story as I have made a number of changes that will need to be reviewed for current comprehension of the story line.

Riddick slipped into the Med Bay, combat boots silent on the Plasti-Tiled floor. Anyone watching him at that moment would have been surprised by the amount of stealth that his large frame employed, but they would have been able to tell by his purposeful movements that he was on a mission. However there was no one watching and Riddick's passage remained unobserved. Silently he made his way past the rows of beds filled with those who had over indulged or over imbibed. The Med Bay was only open to passengers in the upper decks, and of those only those passengers who had purchased silver or gold tickets. Those on the lower decks were left to fend for themselves, especially if they had the poor taste to fall ill or worse, die, en route.

Moving silently Riddick crossed the room and made his way to the last bed, the only one without the specially made privacy curtains dividing the room. It seemed Mercenary Guild Badges only got you so far – but no farther. The Liner was willing to treat him free of charge, but they were not willing to put out the fine linen while doing it. Riddick moved to pick up the BioStat Reader and proceeded to analyse the fat Merc's current health status. Apparently he was recovering from a crushed larynx as well as a number of broken ribs, and recovering slowly, especially without the aid of a Medi-Tec, which was a luxury reserved only for the rich. With a smirk he leaned forward and began punching commands into the BioStat Monitor hooked into the Merc's chest cavity. Task completed Riddick grabbed the Merc's IdentCard. Tucking it into his holster bag he rose and made his way silently out of the Med Bay. Turning Riddick allowed himself a small smirk as officers and orderlies ran down the hall towards the Med Bay, their intent focused on the convulsing form situated in the bed furthest from the door.

Did not know who he was fucking with…

Breaking into the Merc's Compartment was childs play, especially with the monitor's attention being held by the issue he'd created in the Med Bay. That fat pig – Wallace, Riddick discovered when he checked the IdentCard, would die for his sins… eventually. Starting with the mismatched luggage Riddick began to search the Compartment. Halfway through his quest he found what he was looking for. The woman's physical file was impressive and surprising, most prisoner information was stored on the System, it was rare to find a prisoner who actually had a physical file, prone as they were to destruction and loss. Checking the Merc's Crono Riddick tucked the file, and its associated flags, into his jacket. Moving across the room to the desk it was the work of moments to hack into the System, the security codes on their Terminals almost non-existent. He needed to know what he was dealing with. People were always easier to kill when you knew what they were about. After twenty minutes he found what he was after. The data tag was short, and mostly unconfirmed, which was in itself… disturbing.

Full Name: Kirabee da Hoffmann.

Alias: Kirby; Ripper; Medical Prisoner 374-640-2988-4*
Gender: Female.
Species: Humanoid (unconfirmed).
Age: 21.
2655AD. Date unknown.
Multinational. Convict had no registered planetary citizenship.
Religion/ Cult Status:
Sector of Birth:
Primus Sector.
Alive. In (M) Guild custody. Prisoner en route to Hubble Bay Bio-Medical Asylum.
Languages Spoken: Galactic – Common (unconfirmed).
Native Language: Galactic – Common (unconfirmed).
Relationship Status: Reginaldy fa Hoffman (Father). Status – deceased. Lianora ma Hoffmann – ne Scrivennola (Mother). Status – deceased. Jhonathan fa Hoffman (Sibling). Status – deceased. Amerelida da Hoffman (Sibling). Status – deceased. Parents killed in Storming of New Melbourne Station – cult affiliated. No associate relationships identified. Gang affiliation – Negative (unconfirmed).

A 'Warning' flag flashed across the terminal when Riddick hovered the curser above Kirabee's 'Relationship' Status.

[WARNING] Prisoner has a sworn vendetta against the Kumin Mafia and its associates. Not to be placed in General Containment.

A vendetta? This could prove interesting. Blood feuds had almost died out amongst the Upper Houses – it just wasn't civilised anymore. And as a Hoffmann she was definitely in the upper elite – my how the mighty had fallen. The Kumin Mafia on the other hand were a family based business large enough to rival a Guild. They were also one of the largest traffickers of Syth-drugs in the Amalgamated Galaxies, granted they were in decline. Riddick wondered idly how much of that current decline was as a result of the action of Kirabee – Kirby, he mentally corrected himself – he just couldn't imagine the woman using that Upper nominer. He imagined she could be very… determined, when she put her mind to it.

Height: 165 MIM (unconfirmed).
Build: Light (unconfirmed).
Hair Colour: Black (unconfirmed).
Eye Colour:
Black (unconfirmed).
Complexion: Fair (unconfirmed).
Bio-Scanner identifiers.
Distinguishing Marks: Unconfirmed.

Riddick skipped over the physical indicators. Dyes and surgery made the physical data unreliable and he wondered idly why the System still required that type of information input. Though the Biometric Scanner marks were interesting, if she still had them. Most Prisoners knew to steer clear of the Branding Pen when they were first slotted, slight of hand, bribing the guards – or killing them in Riddick's case, anything to avoid the laser tattoos that recorded your ever changing prisoner number on your wrist. Kirby must have been young indeed when she was first locked inside. Too young to know to steer clear of the marker gun that's for sure.

Allergies: Unconfirmed.
Physical Ailments/Disabilities/Diagnosis: Prisoner has been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, Dissociative Personality Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dependent Personality Disorder… [Continued]

His eyes were caught by the list of diagnosed disorders on the file. They had to be opened in another widow there were so many. Riddick didn't bother reading them all. Get slotted long enough and picked up more then a few labels in relation to your failing psyche. After a while all the diagnosis and misdiagnoses were nothing but words in the System. The only thing that mattered, in the end, were those who died, and those who lived, by what ever means necessary.

Education: System Approved Testing (unconfirmed).
Incarceration: Prisoner en route to Hubble Bay Bio-Medical Asylum.

Hellion Prime Penitentiary

Hebe Moon Medical Facility

Sisters of Devine Mercy Asylum

Kleidon Sun Penitentiary

Talents/skills: Prisoner often poses as an assassin for hire. Prisoner has no System recorded training.

Riddick shook his head at the list of Medical Containment Facilities and Asylums the Kirby had found herself in. If she wasn't crazy before she went in you could sure as hell lay credits on the fact that she was batty now. Most Prisoners were only sent to one or two Pens in their lives. They either served out their sentences and were released, or they died in containment. Or, like him, they escaped. And there were damn few prisoners that came close to matching him.

Broke the mould… Riddick thought with vicious satisfaction.

Demeanor: Prisoner is of an unstable personality type and is highly aggressive [Do not approach. Prisoner is extremely dangerous even when unarmed. Unpredictable. Do not corner. Call for reinforcements.].
Fighting Techniques: Prisoner employs an aggressive form of Kali - a fighting style adopted by East Earthen Cults. Prisoner is able to utilise numerous weapons.


5 stars. Top kill.

§100 000 GC

With a smile Riddick flicked the Terminal closed. So… a killer, and one that may be able to match him in fighting skills. This game would certainly turn out to be… interesting.

Very interesting indeed.