Match, point, game!

It was just supposed to be prison sex, that was the rule, when they escaped they weren't going to see each other and there were no expectations. Only problem was that Riddick doesn't listen to laws… so what are a few broken rules?

Chapter one:

Prison boat blues

The arid and dry mountains of Tramius five were no place to be during the second summer of the arid planet. This was especially true if you didn't have the proper gear with which to traverse the area and even more so if you were not acclimated to such a harsh environment. There had been many men and women that had died not heeding this warning from villagers and even those that lived in the larger cities alike. Their arrogance had cost them their lives and were thus food for the animals that lived ruthlessly on all other life within the high wastelands of the western sand plains and craggy, dried up spine of the world. In a way, it was what they deserved for thinking that they could handle something when others that lived in that area knew better.

Cockiness should be a sin. And it was for this sin that the form of someone, something, was stalking a large, thin haired long eared tan and red wolf through the mountains. They had heard that such beasts pelts would keep one warm in the coldest of environments, and considering as soon as they left this baking ball of hell that they were going to a frozen ball of hell, a good pelt would help nicely. A sharp, glittering set of daggers were held on either side of the hips of the stalking figure, following the wolf wherever it went, while in its leather shielded hand held the hilt of a strong but deathly quiet gun that they had received as a 'gift' from their last target. Slinking over a rock the figure nearly got their long and tattered jacket caught on the sharp, sand blasted surface, causing yet another hole in the already worn surface.

"Shit," they whispered and tugged the jacket until it was free and glanced around for the wolf yet again. They wore a hat with which to shield them from the blinding triple suns as well as a strip of clothe over their face, only their brown eyes visible. The rest of their clothing consisted of a dark green tank top with a few scarves laid over the neck in tattered protection from the sun, a pair of dark brown cargo pants, combat boots that had seen better days, and a belt that had more gadgets then they could count. They didn't know what half of them did but beggars and pickers off of bodies couldn't choosers.

It wasn't for necessity really, that they were out here, but merely for the fact that they had been bored lifeless in their hotel. You could buy these wolf pelts in the city they were docked in for a good fifty credits, and considering how valuable they were on other planets that was a steal. But it had been a long time since they had gone hunting to where it didn't mean having to actually listen to your employer bitch and moan about how the hell you killed the fucker. As long as they died that was all that mattered. A job was a job is a job. This way they got to hunt without worrying about some higher power to answer to.

They rounded a corner as silently as possibly upon rock and clad in leather, holding the gun up against their chest. Glancing around they spotted the wolf now staring at them, its gold and silver eyes narrowing and its teeth steadily barring heavier and heavier until you could count all of the glittering white fangs in its maws. Well this wasn't how they had planned it going down! But as the wolf started to charge, easily a large alpha male, and the figure stood back from the wall and aimed their gun with a narrowing of their own brown eyes.

As it jumped at the figure, paws out stretched with searing claws and fangs dripping for blood, they merely held out their gun with a sigh, as if this sudden turn bored them. With a muffled bang fire erupted from the tip of the weapon, bursting forth a casing of molten led and various other metals, and hit dead on its target. The bullet ripped through the wolf's head, through the back of its maw, taking out the tip of its tail, and continued on until it buried itself, smoking and flinging off blood, into the rock face behind it, leaving behind a now slumping body of fur that had its head spliced and split and melted in half in the shape of a U and blood pooling already at its feet.

"Now see, you went and took all the fun out of it!" the person said in exasperation before they kneeled and took out their shiv, rolling their eyes. The dagger glittered viciously in the suns rays as they lowered the tip of the weapon towards where the first incision should have gone but that was at the base of the neck that was almost completely obliterated thanks to a short range burst. Shrugging it off as bad karma, or whatever the hell it was called when you were as bad as they were, they rolled the dead animal onto its back and began the process of procuring the necessary pelt for their future trip to one of the Ice Planets. Fun times.


Rolling his head back he had to concentrate on the fact that his arms were encased in cold metal in order not to pass out from the pain resonating from his aching cranium. The ship was dark and hummed loudly as it went through the motions of deep space travel, hunkering along like the piece of trash it really was. This was great, just fucking great. Though it wasn't something he couldn't get himself out of, he'd done it several hundred times before now, it was just that he had thing about getting caught. It seemed that every time he went outside sometimes he ended up on a ship bound for whoever knows where!

The ship, if it could even be called that, was more like an interspatial skiff and was small even for its crew to fit in, much less the fugitives they were picking up at almost every port. Mercs were such pains in the ass, the scum of the universe in his opinion… Feeding off of the bottom dwellers of the stars just so that they can make a few bucks, it was sickening. Then again, he was just pissed because he'd gotten caught and he was being taken to yet another triple max prison where he would serve a month or two before finding a way out. He had better things to do then find a way out of another Slam. But right now, to help avoid the thought of how he had been ambushed, somehow someway, by a bunch of mercs on Tramius seven, he was studying the small holding area in which he was bound in.

His wrists and ankles were being held in thick, heavy metal bands, keeping them held tightly to the wall of the skiff, with only a short chain to allow minimal movement. Even his stomach had been secured with another lock, and though his brain whirled with ways to get out of it so far he had failed to manage to do anything, which was making him all the angrier. Then he glanced over towards the others that had been picked up. Two had been here before he had come aboard, each looking more beat up than he could ever be, and each hanging from the wall in a similar fashion as himself. One was an old man with dirty, blotchy golden hair that came to his shoulders in greasy strings, wearing shabby clothing, and looked rather emaciated. Even an old man like this one, who couldn't have put up much fight at all, was beaten and had a broken nose. The other, surprisingly, had been a girl from what he could see through her jacket and baggy clothing that was sand blasted and dirty as all hell. Her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in several days and was a dark red verging on brown, with skin that was sun caked and covered in smears of dirt and sand. Her hair covered her face so he didn't get a chance to look upon it but from how her arms were held onto the wall and where he could see bruises and cuts running along them, he could tell that she had been given a beating as bad if not worse than the old man and himself.

Then there was the other criminal that had been picked up a day or so ago, he'd lost count of the hours since going into space and having no sun to tell the time. It was a kid, no older than sixteen, held up in a corner with his eyes covered and half of his face burned from his struggling capture.

And here he was, a murderer, famous throughout the galaxies for his ruthless ways, strapped to a wall like some helpless pup. Richard B. Riddick did not surrender lightly, and this would be no exception. Riddick shifted against his bonds to where his back slid against the wall slightly, feeling the metal band around his waist ride up his abs and scrape them painfully. He shuffled his feet lightly to where they made no noise but to where he could feel how far he could really move, just a few inches. He glanced at his hands in expectation, hoping to see that the mercs had messed up and that the cuffs were too large, only to see that they had not and that they fit perfectly onto his large wrists. Swearing in his mind though ever stoic on the out he glowered at the band around his waist. It would be so much easier if they had not bound him there. A good thrashing around could, in theory, create enough strain on the chains holding him to the wall to snap the weak one and free him.

"Shit… mother fuckers…" Riddick's ears twitched at the sudden swearing and his nose was assaulted with the sudden scent of fright, frustration, and infuriation. He glanced through his dark goggles, never releasing his blank features, and stared at the only girl aboard as she rolled her head back and hissed at the pain it caused. Now he could see the brunt of the damage to her face. She'd been punched a good few times in the jaw and cheeks, her forehead was scabbed over just above her right eyebrow, and there was dry blood keeping one eye glued closed. It seems their captures weren't too nice to her…

Her eyes flittered open tiredly. At first they were glassy and groggy, looking for all the world like she was about to pass out again, but then her brows furrowed and her jaw clenched. Her dark brown eye focused abruptly, snapped from her shock of receiving wounds, and glanced around with a low growl in her throat. Riddick watched her silently as she glanced at her bindings the same manner he did, or damn close to it, only difference was she started to thrash and to scream and yell at the top of her lungs. He didn't move, didn't make a noise, watching as this wild thing that was caught against a wall was fighting with every fiber in her body. Fright and rage rippled off of her own scent, combining with the blood and sweat that were already masking the true smell.

"Hold it, one of them's gettin' rowdy. I'll be right back," Riddick settled fully against the wall. The girls commotion had drawn the attention of the mercs aboard this prison vessel. Heavy boot falls filled the air, coming steadily closer as the man lumbered towards the back of the craft, his steps unbearably loud for the likes of his sensitive ears. He narrowed his silver eyes beneath his goggles and pretended to be slumbering as well as the other three, all the while the girl continued her struggling, throwing insults at the ship, all those aboard, and even herself.

"Shut up!" the merc that had spoken earlier was now in the doorway that lead through the corridor to the main head. He was leaning against it with his arms, his face screwed up in a disdain for the one making the racket. Riddick trailed him as the mercenary stalked forwards, swaying slightly towards the still growling and snarling woman who was now banging her mid section against the wall over and over again.

The man was no more than five foot six, a small size, with a thin and pathetic build. His greasy black hair was balding at the top and his eyes were too small and close together for his thick nose and face. His stench made Riddick struggle not to wrinkle his nose in disgust, a pungent mixture of sweat, body odors, blood, and what seemed like rotten cabbage. He was standing before the girl now, who had stopped her struggling and was staring down at the man with the direst kind of hatred, murderous. Riddick felt something in the air, a tingling, bloodlust that wanted nothing more than for this girl to drive her bare hands into this mans neck and chest, pulling out his jugular and his heart at the same time and watching him flounder in his final moments as his body tried to recognize the organs absence. Oh how he loved the smell of it, the need for murder, the lust for another's life spilled onto the floor, and the girl was reeking of it!

"Don't tell me to shut up you pathetic cockroach! Let me out of here!! If I get my hands on you when I get out of this!!" she said in a deathly quiet voice, her eye blazing and her mouth pulling into a barring snarl.

The merc laughed at her statement, flicking her confinements. Bad move, for the second he got close enough to her she spat right in his face all the blood and saliva that had been gathering in her mouth while she had been asleep, splattering his face in the noxious mixture and making the man gag, his hands flying to his face. His laughter stopped and with a loud, horrible smack the girl's head snapped to the side and a new bruise was steadily forming on her cheek, her eye glaring defiantly at the wall while her teeth were still showing. "How dare you, you piece of shit. I'm not the one that has a three million credit bounty on her head! You're lucky that I don't do worse than smack you…" the merc's eyes traveled up and down her figure that was shielded with her baggy and tattered clothing.

The girl growled low in her throat again as she turned towards the man that had just dared hit her, her face now stoic. The scent of bloodlust was getting stronger and stronger as Riddick watched the scene unfolding, and he had no doubt that should she get out of the very same thing that was holding his massive bulk down that she would rip the man ogling her apart.

"I've killed people for less than that…" she breathed quietly, venom dripping off of every word.

"Yea, well, honey, you're helpless right now. Yer lucky that the prison don't except damaged goods," the merc spat in her face the same way that she had done. He turned on his heel and was unexpectedly facing Riddick, his small eyes beady and watery looking. "And don't ya even think of trying to get outta those! We've made these especially for types like you," the merc barked at Riddick before storming from the room, confident his pathetic warnings would go heeded.

The girl groaned and flicked her head to and fro trying to get the spit from her face, grumbling several profanities under her breath and was starting to go into different languages. She stopped and sighed, sagging against her shackles, and turned towards him with a skeptical look, as if trying to discern if he was awake or not. She really was a pathetic sight, with her hair matted, one eye glued shut, half of her face glittering with spit and phlegm, while her lip was split at the very edge on the left side. He could feel her staring at him, racking over his body while her eyebrows knitted together yet again, her look calculating. The scent of bloodlust was all but gone, leaving him slightly disappointed, but he was growing slightly amused by the continued scrutiny of the mere twenty something year old woman before him.

"It's not polite to stare," Riddick spoke in his deep, gravely voice and watched her jump with fright and surprise. She stared at him with one eye wide, her mouth hanging open. Then she immediately firmed up and the scent of sudden fear and upset was gone, leaving only sweat and dried crimson to hover between them in an almost visible haze.

She took one look of his attire, his tight black tank top, cargo's, boots, and belt, and noticed that all of them were sand blasted, like her own get up. A small grin came to her battered lips and she cocked her head to the side. "Lemme guess, they got you in the Tramius System too, eh?"

Riddick didn't answer right away. He let the silence settle disturbingly thick around them, shift and coil around each of them to where she shifted and withdrew her lips into her teeth to gnaw on cautiously. He was a predator after all, and what were a few mind games before heading into the Slam?

When he could see the quiet was getting too much for her and she was growing frustrated he scoffed slightly. "You could say that," he murmured, not really one for conversation.

The girl eyed him suspiciously, in a way that only a fellow criminal could. She shifted in her long, torn up leather coat and he could practically hear the little wheels inside of her head turning. She was weighting her options here. If she engaged in a conversation with him then there was the chance that the mercs would come back and beat up on them again, or Riddick could fuck with her mind so bad that she was left a shaking mess. Or, she could learn something valuable that help them out in this situation, get them off this ship, and out of their trip to the Slam. He could almost hear her thoughts as her emotions played on her scent slowly, shifting and filling the room, mixing with all of the others.

Finally, her gaze firmed up again and she had come to a conclusion. "Same here," she was going to talk to him.

Not that it would do much good. Riddick wasn't a man for words. He merely inclined his head in acknowledgement before resting against the wall, his head still pounding but he could feel the scab forming over the wound starting to harden and heal. Somehow he had managed to get hit with a four by four, of all things. He had been minding his own business, just on the planet to refresh his supplies and continue his running from the merc's and necromongers when he had been surrounded in a secluded area of a small village. They'd been lucky that he had foolishly landed in a system with three suns, that made his sight all the worse and sensitive. It had been an error on his part to land where he had, if he hadn't then they wouldn't have caught him. He had been too cocky and had paid the price for it.

The girl hissed and tossed her frizzed hair over her shoulder. "Meh, they were lucky. I had spent a few days in the dessert and was tired, otherwise I would've killed them all… they even took the wolf pelt I killed and skinned myself! Those bastards…" she breathed, her mouth pursing in a thin line.

Riddick didn't say anything or even move this time but instead kept his goggled eyes on hers. She sensed his annoyance at her continuing to speak and snorted before settling back into a more comfortable position. She glanced to her right to spot the old man and the boy, a heavy sigh coming from her chest. He smelled sympathy coming from her body and knew instantly what she was saddened by.

"They won't make it," he stated sternly. She cast him a sidelong look, her hair half masking her face. Riddick glanced the boy over then the old man without so much as pity in his tone. "The kids too weak, he doesn't have a chance in there. And the old man will go within a few hours, if the heat doesn't get him then the inmates will."

"I know," she said. With that their conversation ended and they both slipped into silence.

After a few hours the girl once more drifted off, her head supported on her held up arm. Riddick, however, never let his eyes close and let slumber take him for a minute, not trusting anyone or anything on this ship while he was bound up like this. All he could think of was what level of prison were they going to, what Slam exactly, and how he would get out of there.