WARNING: This Chapter contains extremely distressing GRAPHIC Violence.

21. Riddick: The Animal Unrestrained

The sun was setting on the ship currently registered as Tarsin's Chance. Riddick had put the ramp down and was watching the tarmac, trying not to give into the anxiety percolating deep within him. Jack should have been back before now, he thought for the umpteenth time. He growled low in his throat, wondering where the hell she was.

His day had been both productive and dissatisfying. He knew everything about Pete now, his full name, where he lived, his extensive rap sheet... the works. But other things hadn't gone well at all. He'd been forced to admit that his encounters with "Carolyn" no longer did nearly enough for him. They'd gone from poetic acts of fantasy-fulfillment to impersonal fucks. He couldn't even get off without imagining Jack in the woman's place any more.

He'd have to find a new outlet for his needs, and fast. They couldn't leave Troubadour until he knew for a fact that he was under control and wouldn't end up breaking down Jack's door some night and ravaging her.

One of the planet's fleet of taxis, he noted, was approaching the ship.

How much did she buy? he thought with abrupt amusement. Five thousand New Francs would buy a lot, he realized suddenly. He wasn't all that accustomed to the acquisition of material possessions and most of his money went toward much rarer, more expensive items. High-tech black-ops gear from the black market, for instance. Even if he'd had a clue what girls liked to buy, he figured this would have taken him by surprise.

The cab pulled up and the driver began to unload. Jack emerged, glanced at the ship, and waved cheerfully. As the bags and boxes began to pile up, Riddick found himself shaking his head and chuckling.

He walked down the ramp and approached the cab, where Jack was now paying the driver and punching in a generous tip. As the vehicle pulled away and she turned toward him, he raised an eyebrow and nodded at the enormous pile of merchandise.

"How many stores did you clean out, kid?"

She laughed and began gathering up bags. He moved to help her, taking several of the largest, heaviest packages. They ferried the things inside and he handed them up to her before joining her in the living quarters level.

"You know, I was starting to get worried about you." He glanced at his chrono. "You almost didn't get here before Pete's final shift ended."

Her smile faltered for a second but she hoisted it back into place. Poor girl. He wasn't sure whether it was Pete's treatment of her or his imminent death that was bothering her. Neither one could be pleasant for her to consider.

She was wearing a new perfume. He'd noticed it when they'd been carrying the packages in. Whatever it was, he liked it. It made her smell more like herself than ever, oddly enough. Her scent had subtly changed in the last few days, he'd noticed, becoming more... more female. This new addition to the mix was intoxicating.

If she wore this around him all the time he was going to have a really hard time keeping his hands off of her.

"I like that perfume. Did you buy it, or just try it on?" He tried to keep the comment as offhand as he could. It was hard to keep from saying what he really wanted to: will you always smell this fuckable?

She looked delighted that he'd noticed. "I bought it! Isn't it wonderful? It was my mom's favorite."

"What's it called?" He helped her carry her packages into her room and pile them onto her bed.

"Charmante. My mom used to get it shipped to her from New Belgium; that's where she came from."

Riddick leaned against her door and smiled. He had to physically restrain himself, for a moment, from moving to her side and engulfing her in his arms so he could inhale her scent and lose himself in it. He wondered if it had driven Jack's father to distraction on the mother the way it already was driving him on the daughter.

"It's very pretty."

"I thought so. I was thrilled to find it, but I guess I should have expected it on a planet full of Francophiles. You know what I saw in one of the stores? A picture of Paris, of all things!" She glanced over at him and saw his confusion.

"Why would that be unusual?" he asked. Pictures of the Eiffel Tower abounded throughout the town.

"Not the city, sorry... Paris Ogilvie. The guy we met on the Hunter-Gratzner. This one curio shop had his picture up, a little 'In Memory Of' plaque, you know the type? Seems he supplied them with all kinds of fun things. I got some earrings there. Expensive stuff."

She was chattering, trying to stall for time before he had to leave and begin his killing ways. Poor little thing. He moved to her side and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"I have to go now, Jack." He said it as gently as he could and felt her heavy sigh in response. She turned and put her arms around him, resting her head against his chest for a moment.

"Don't get caught," she finally said in a ragged whisper as she stepped back. He tilted her face up and kissed her forehead.

"Never happen," he answered softly, before leaving her room.

He locked the ship up and headed out into the darkening streets of New Paris, Troubadour's capital city. A town where anything could be bought or sold, and human life was the cheapest commodity... and where a particular human life would come to a bloody end tonight.

It didn't take him long at all to find his quarry, and in the process he learned a new facet of Pete the Perv's sickness. Pete was stalking a young woman from bar to bar, obsessively following her through the thronging crowds of early-evening revelers. It was the redhead from the bar, he realized.

Riddick wondered how often he did this, and what might normally have happened to the hapless lady if he hadn't been about to hijack Pete's evening plans on this night. He decided to let the play unfold. If Pete actually planned to commit a crime, he'd make it so easy for Riddick to catch him; he'd want a secluded place to make his move, after all. Perfect.

He stalked the stalker to a deserted alley off of a sparsely-populated side street. Pete had gotten ahead of his target. Now he planned to catch her and drag her into the dark passageway when she passed. Riddick waited until all of Pete's attention was focused on the approaching woman before he moved.

The woman never saw either one of them. She never knew how close she had come to a night of horror. Riddick clapped his hand over Pete's mouth and lifted the man off of the ground, dragging him back into the depths of the alley. He slammed him hard against the wall, knocking the breath out of him.

"Hey there, Pete," he whispered, baring his teeth. "Remember me?"

He saw the man's eyes go wide. As feeling returned to the hapless orderly's diaphragm and he began to draw breath, Riddick slammed one fist directly into his stomach. Pete doubled up around his fist, gagging, still unable to breathe. Two more quick blows and he was unconscious.

Riddick dragged him back behind a dumpster, to the little "love nest" that he'd watched Pete preparing for his target. The spot had been used several times before, he noted with disgust. Pete was quite something. Nobody was going to miss him once he was dead. Certainly not the women he'd brought here. If they were still alive.

Rummaging through the man's clothes, he quickly realized that none of them were.

"Oh, Pete, Pete, Pete..." he chuckled softly. "I think I'm going to really enjoy this."

Riddick had the man trussed up before he regained consciousness, and had put a bit in the man's mouth. He'd swiped it from the clinic before he and Jack checked out. Now he watched the orderly's eyes flutter open, grinning.

"You're really something, guy," he remarked conversationally. "Here I thought you were just a sicko who made the mistake of touching my girl, and now I find out you're a fuckin' trophy hunter. You know, when the cops find you, these little goodies of yours are going to solve a lot of their most puzzling cases."

He watched Pete's reaction. The man still didn't get it.

"Oh relax, Pete, you're not gonna go to jail." He leaned in, whispering in the man's ear. "You'll be dead long before they find you. Well, not too long. I think there's a whole bunch of women on the other side of the grave who will appreciate what I'm going to do to you first."

He unsheathed a knife and examined it for a moment, letting it catch the light and transfix Pete's attention. He glanced at the man after a time and grinned.

"It's a nice one, isn't it? Surgically precise, the way I like 'em. You know all about that, don't you? I'm almost tempted to use one of your own knives on you, you know. But this one..." He smiled fondly. "This one is special. I haven't used it in four years, since the last time I paid someone back for hurting my girl."

He smiled down at the man, who was now shaking.

"Oh yeah. It's a simple rule. You hurt what I love, I hurt what you love. Problem is, Pete, you don't love anything, do you? Except yourself, of course. Guess I'll have to make do with that, won't I? Last guy who messed with my girl lost his twelve best students." He leaned in close and whispered in Pete's ear. "I always give back with interest, you see."

With deliberate gentleness, he lifted Pete's shirt away from his belly. He smiled almost-kindly at the pathetic human being below him.

"They were luckier than you, though. I'd already snapped their necks by the time I did this to them. But that's because they weren't the ones who'd hurt her. You did. You get to pay the full price."

He made three clean cuts on Pete's abdomen, each every bit as surgically precise as the knife he used to make them. Pete was gagging, writhing.

"Careful, Pete, you don't want me to damage any organs, now do you?" He moved the skin aside and began slicing through the membrane beneath. Finally he reached his destination.

"There we go!" He grinned wolfishly into Pete's eyes. "Did you know that you have twenty to twenty-three feet of small intestine? Amazing, isn't it? But I forgot, you work in a medical clinic, of course you know that. I wonder how many times I can wrap it around your neck."

Smiling into Pete's eyes, he carefully reached into the open cavity. He intended to do this without even the slightest bit of damage to the organs themselves. It was so much better that way; Pete would last so much longer. "Let's find out, shall we?"

* * * * * * * *

Hours later, the first blushes of dawn began to appear in the sky of New Paris. Riddick felt the change in the air. Time to end the fun.

He took a small swig from the bottle of Peppermint Schnapps he'd brought with him, and walked over to Pete.

"Hey. Pete. You want a sip? One last little drink before we go our separate ways?" He grinned into the man's pain-glazed eyes. "You're not passing out on me, are you? You want to be here for the denouement, you know. Appropriate term isn't it? 'Specially on a planet like this. Where you from originally, Pete? You're not a local."

He studied Pete for a long moment. The man's defiance had long since vanished, of course. He was barely clinging to life at this point, but he was still clinging, still aware.

"Oh, come on, Pete. How many planets have you pulled this shit on, anyway? How many worlds have Jane Does with missing pieces in their morgues thanks to you? Hmm?"

With the bit in his mouth, Pete couldn't actually answer. Riddick wasn't really interested in anything the man would have to say, anyway.

"Well, it's been fun, boy, but I've gotta get back to Rebecca. Not that her name's really Rebecca, of course. Mine isn't Colin. I thought I'd let you know 'cuz maybe it'd make your ride to Hell a little easier, knowing who you fucked with."

He took the knife back out, pressing the tip against the underside of Pete's chin, right above the grisly scarf he'd wrapped around his neck, and leaned in. He'd whisper the final answer into Pete's ear.

"You poor, stupid kid," he chuckled. "Nobody fucks with Richard B. Riddick and walks away from it."

Horrified comprehension dawned in the orderly's dazed eyes seconds before Riddick jammed the knife up into his brain.

He took a moment to clean the blood off of his hands and then left the alleyway. He felt good, burning with life, his own and the one he'd just stolen. That kill had been every bit as good as he'd hoped. Better. Jack hadn't been the only one he'd avenged in the process.

What delicious irony. That was the best part of all.

* * * * * * * *

He showered upon his arrival at the ship. He'd no more sit down to breakfast with Jack with Pete's blood on him than another woman's scent. The clothes and hairpieces that had belonged to "Colin Tarsin" he bagged. He'd make sure to incinerate them later.

By the time Jack emerged yawning from her room, he had their breakfast on the table. He smiled at her and didn't mention the events of his night. She already knew more than she wanted to.

"So now what?" she finally asked.

"Well, we're going to stay on Troubadour for a bit longer, but not under our current aliases, obviously. So... we're going to switch to a different space port later today." He poured some more juice for both of them. "I'll need that card I gave you so I can reroute its balance to a different account. Rebecca Tarsin is about to cease to exist."

She grinned at him. "Sure." She pulled the card out from inside her shirt and handed it over. Smart girl, she'd anticipated him... damn, had she been keeping the card where he thought?

He took a moment to really look at her clothes. He suddenly thanked the sick fuck on high that there was a table between them so she couldn't see his abrupt response. The tight little top accentuated her high breasts entirely too well, filling his head with intensely carnal thoughts.

She can't possibly know the effect she's having on me, he reminded himself. Behave yourself, he added.

What he really wanted to do was pick her up and carry her into his bedroom. He forced himself to swallow and return to eating.

Life with Jack was sure going to be complicated, he thought ruefully.

He sat back from the table once he was back under control, taking a moment to stretch. Once they took off and he got them in their orbit he needed to catch up on his sleep... what--

Jack had jumped into his lap and put her hands on his shoulders. She was facing him, straddling his legs. The smile she gave him was pure, innocent sweetness. "So who are we going to be now?"

The images that flashed through his mind were vivid and intense. He saw himself grabbing her hips and pulling her against him, grinding himself against her spread crotch and burying his face between her breasts, carrying her into his room and ripping her new clothes clean off of her body--

Oh god, no, oh no Jack...

The scent of her was overwhelming. In another moment he was going to... going to...

His hands went to her waist and he gently lifted her, pushing her backward off of his legs. He steadied her and stood up from his chair as well, taking a step back from her.

"Jack, you can't sit on me like that."

She looked confused, completely oblivious to the mayhem she'd almost unleashed. "Why?"

"It's just..." He shook his head, wishing he could explain, not daring to. "It's not appropriate."

He turned, leaving the table and moving over to the cockpit. He started the preflight checks.

Behind him he could hear Jack clearing the table. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "Um... I'm gonna make sure everything in my room is... locked down for takeoff. That's where I'll be."

He heard her door shut, and took a moment to close his eyes and let out a long, ragged sigh.

Oh Jack, you have no idea how close to the brink you just took me. I hope you never find out.