Ch. 1: Awakening
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.
Transporting her with civilians was a dangerous move by her captor, to say the least. She could hear the steady, melodic heartbeats of her fellow passengers and could smell the blood coursing through their veins as they slept, so vulnerable, so defenseless. It made her mouth water. How long had it been since she had last fed? She couldn't remember, which meant it had been too long. She tried to distract herself from finishing that dark thought by concentrating on other, less tempting, scents. She smelled a woman. Sweat, boots, tool belt, leather...prospector type. Free settlers...And they only take the back roads, but what route? What route? It was then that she caught the scent of the man she hated more than anyone on earth, her captor, the blue-eyed devil named Mr. Johns. She felt a feral snarl rise in her throat and thought about how nice it would be to rip out his with her elongated canines. The nerve of that asshole to dress up like a cop, when he was nothing but a filthy, stinkin' merc trying to make pay day. Well, I'm not going down that easy.
A distant noise echoed through the confines of her semi-conscious mind, breaking her train of thought, but she couldn't quite wrap her mind around what it might be. She was suddenly distracted by the scent of another passenger that was distinctly different from the others. It was thick and powerful, almost musky. It was the other convict her captor had picked up along the way. Riddick, I think that's what he had called him. She'd heard of him before. He was a legend in the slam, known for his ruthlessness and his insatiable taste for violence that rivaled her own. She caught a whiff of his scent again, powerful, tantalizing. She wondered what he would smell like up close. She heard the same noise again, but with sharper clarity this time. Was that gunfire?
Escaped convict and murderer, Isis Hale, groggily opened her eyes to a room full of chaos and death. Golf ball-sized objects propelled past her cryo-chamber with bullet-like speed, killing the passengers on either side of her. Their blood called to her like a seductive lover. How she longed to just taste it. It was dark inside the chamber, but her sharp eyes had no problem whatsoever as they calmly took in the details of her environment. Something had knocked them off course. What a pity. Guess my trip back to the slam will encounter some unavoidable obstacles. Or at least it will as soon as I put some distance between me and Mr. Johns, she thought.
Just then, Johns began to stir in his cell. As he came back to consciousness, he began to pull at his restraints. They wouldn't seem to budge. "Shit!" he screamed through clenched teeth as his harness suddenly gave way, hurtling him face first onto the ground, hard… He was knocked out cold. This is my chance, Isis thought to herself. It's now or never.