The Games We Play

Ally_Ranger


Chapter Fourteen

The room was silent. Casteel tapped her foot on the floor and looked at the ceiling. Riddick watched her, shock coursing through his body. How could she be so calm? A fucking psycho Merc was going on a killing spree and here was the woman hired to hunt him down sitting down nonchalantly staring up at the roof like it wasn't that big a deal. What was wrong with her? Even he wasn't that callous and he was one of the systems most feared criminals.

"You're so quick to think the worst of people," she said, filling the almost suffocating void between them. What could she possibly say to him, considering she represented everything he probably hated?

"Are you reading my mind or something," he asked. Her uncanny ability to answer his thoughts as if he'd spoken them was beginning to unnerve him.

"What? Read your mind? No." Her eyes met his, "I've just gotten adept at reading-- certain kinds of people…"

He snorted, "certain kinds of people. You mean criminals."

"Yes. I do. Look, Riddick - this situation - it isn't going to work. You're intent on thinking the worst of me. You won't listen no matter what I try to say so let's just cut our losses here. You should just…" She pointed the gun at him and then swung it to the door, "leave."

"Not without seeing Jack."

"Look, this woman is going to wake up some time and we both have to be out of here before she does..."

"Not without seeing Jack."

Casteel shut her eyes and rubbed her temples. Did he expect her to just take him there? She took a several deep breaths and opened her eyes again as a masculine smell pervaded her nostrils. She knew even before opening them that her momentary lapse of her guard had allowed him to get right in front of her.




He had not taken his eyes off her since he had first sat down. He supposed that she could shoot him but he just knew that she wouldn't. Something inside him was sensing that she was very tired. From chasing this guy or the job in general, he couldn't say - but he saw it in her movements, heard it in her answers to his questions and felt it in her reaction to his barb about using Jack as bait. He knew it for real when she shut her eyes and began to massage her head. She looked like he felt. They both knew that this conversation of theirs wasn't going anywhere - it was as hopeless as his idea of finding Jack without Casteel's help.

Something had to give and for the second time that day, Riddick decided to hand an olive branch to her. He stood and moved across the room soundlessly, squatting down in front of her just before the bed. He saw her nostrils flare slightly at his scent and her eyes opened.

He extended his hand to her, "Richard B. Riddick," he said.

He enjoyed seeing the myriad of emotion flash over her face - he didn't think that many people saw beyond her expressionless mask. After a moment though, she extended her own hand and took his, "Sarah Casteel"

They stared at each other, their hands clasped together firmly. Starting again sounded like a fine idea, she thought.

They continued to stare at one another and she felt as though he was looking inside of her - not at her. His gaze cut through her like a laser. Just what could he see?

At that moment, Riddick didn't know if he wanted to let go of her hand. Not many people wanted to touch him in any way - even a simple handshake scared the shit out of most people. He liked the sensation of physical contact. Even if it was just a handshake and even with this Merc. He gave himself a mental shake which brought his mind back to the situation.

Casteel was staring into his eyes - he was sure that his gesture had just about floored her and he hoped that she would put aside her distrust of him sometime within the next decade so that he could see Jack again. Their clasped hands had allowed for the return of some of the hope that he hadn't dared feel when she had the gun pointed at him.

They continued to stare at one another, assessing possibilities, wondering what the other was thinking, when the bed seemed to groan. They both jumped at the sound their hands parting. They had forgotten about the manager. Turning, Casteel saw her eyes flutter in their sockets - not a good thing.

"Gotta go now," she said springing off the bed. She ran into the bathroom and began to pile her toiletries back into their bag.

Riddick stood in the doorframe looking at her oddly.

"What?" She said, her back to him.

How did she do that? He brushed it aside, "You're a Merc, surely you can tell this woman that it was just some criminal looking for trouble and I'll slip out of here before she wakes up and-"

"Slip out of here," she said hoping that he would go and not bother to come back sniffing around for her again - fat chance, she thought. She picked up her shampoo and pushed past him and back into the bedroom, "as far as anyone in this building knows, I'm just a young woman fresh from Port. They don't know I'm a Merc. They think I am-something else." She smirked - the reaction of the poor woman at the front desk when she had walked past her wearing the nurses' uniform had been priceless.

"They think you're a prostitute?"

"Yes, I don't want to advertise that I am in the building. On a seedy planet like this, things have a way of getting around. No one looks too hard at a prostitute."

She picked up her bag of weapons and took out several clips for her gauge, before sealing the bag with her thumb print.

Riddick followed her around the room, watching her drop things deliberately - condoms in their packets, a few empty packets, couple of empty vodka bottles and a line of coke.

As she worked at creating the impression of her 'identity', Riddick talked. "We need to discuss this situation with Jack - I feel responsible for her and I want to see her. And I want to kill the bastard that hurt her."

"Great - Uh huh. Would you pull down those pictures on the wall for me?" Without waiting for a reply she got down on her knees and pulled out a bag from under the bed. Purpose built to disguise her weapons bag, which conveniently zipped to the bottom of it, making it look like a large backpack. She zipped the two bags together.

Riddick handed her the pile of pictures and she stuffed them into the top of the bag along with her toiletries.

Riddick grabbed her arm when she stood up.

"Look," she said, "I know you want to see your friend, but right now leaving is probably the wisest thing we can do."

The manager on the bed moaned as if to illustrate Casteel's point.

"What do you want?" She asked when he didn't release his grip, "My word that I'll take you to Jack? Fine, you have it - now let's go."

"I want to know the whole story, everything. I want to know every detail about Len from his birth date to the colour of his underwear. And I want to see Jack."

"Alright. Fine. Can we go now?" The pressure on her arm disappeared. "Good."

She opened the door and sprinted down the hall, with Riddick at her heels. They bypassed the lift and went to the stairwell. Riddick continued to follow her, even though she ran up the stairs. Not the direction he thought they should be going, but he wasn't going to loose her now.

She moved fast, taking the steps two by two. Riddick remembered that there were twenty-eight floors. They started on sixteen. He could already feel lactic acid invading his muscles. They passed twenty-one and Casteel still hadn't slowed. Riddick admired her athletic ability. Despite his constant exercise and strengthening work, running up stairs still caused major discomfort in his calves.

She stopped on twenty-four. He was by her side still, panting hard. She cautiously opened the stairway door and checked for people miling about in the halls and finding none stepped into the hallway and jogged quietly down it, pulling a key out her pocket as she went.

Stopping at the last room, she used the key to open the door and slipped inside. He was confused as to why they weren't leaving the building. The police would be swarming in soon and he couldn't see the benefit of staying there.

He followed her to the open window and looked out side. His questions died on his lips. She had rigged a cable from this hotel to the one next door. It ran from one open window to another. He decided to add resourceful to her list of skills.

"It won't take the weight of both of us at once," she said as she retrieved a pair of gloves from her bag. She strapped the pack to her body and climbed onto the sill.

Riddick looked down at the twenty-four floor drop, adding crazy to the list, he grabbed her arm again, "maybe I should go first - you can explain your way out of this situation - I can not." She shook his arm off and grabbed the cable with both hands and lowered herself off the sill. "I don't want to be waiting around for you to haul ass across this thing," she dangled from the cable now and she stilled her body.

Riddick watched, suitably pissed. He couldn't get her off the cable now. He'd have to wait. He looked on as she jerked her legs upwards and crossed her ankles over the wire. She began to make her way across the twenty-foot gap, hand over hand. It was obvious that she had done this before - her movements were confident and quick. She reached the other side in what seemed like no time and once inside the window, she beckoned him to follow.

He touched the cable with his fingertips. It was course - he would shred his fingers by the time he got to the other side - might even fall before he got there from the blood that would no doubt cover his hands by halfway point. He looked over at the other window. Casteel wasn't there.

"Fucking bitch," he growled, "when I find you-"

He gasped as he was hit in the chest by something hard. His reflexes allowed him to catch it, to stop it falling out the window and he was thankful for all the time he spent at Slam now - he wouldn't have been able to catch Casteel's shoe if he hadn't honed his reflexes in that dank dungeon. It wasn't the shoe he was interested in though. It was her gloves inside. He slipped them onto his hands.

"One size really can fit all," he said to up his bravado. It definitely wasn't an everyday experience to suspend one's self from a wire twenty-four floors from the pavement. He tucked the shoe into his waistband and grabbed onto the line.




Casteel watch as he emerged from the window, relieved. He'd had the sense to bring her shoe. She watched as he moved slowly across the line. She couldn't believe she was helping him. He was a wanted felon and yet-she couldn't help but think of the girl, lying in an institution, friendless. Riddick cared for her and Jack needed a friend - the trauma of surviving an attack by an SRM claimed the lives of all but a few. Jack needed him and Casteel needed Jack to get better.

Guilt. She had never liked that emotion. And she didn't like 'If Only' either. If only she'd been able to kill Len in the alley. If only she had taken him out instead of taking his picture. If only she hadn't signed the contract forbidding her to kill him in public. How could one thing go so bad? Why did she have to pick now to develop her under-used emotions?




Riddick entered the window of the other building. The room was dark, the way he liked it, so he could easily make out the figure of Casteel lying on the bed with her feet dangling over it. Her head was turned away from him.

"There's some cutters on the floor where you're standing. Use them to cut the cable."

He did as he was told and turned back to her. She wasn't on the bed though. Damn, she moved fast. His attention was drawn to a light coming from under a door. The bathroom? He crossed the room quickly and jerked open the door and found her washing her face at the basin. She looked up at his intrusion.

"Oh - haven't you gotten sick of me yet?" she asked, her tiredness seeping through into her voice.

"Still haven't gotten what I want."

She sat down on the rim of the tub. "Right. A visit with Jack, Len's birth date and the colour of his underwear. I can tell you he was born on April 12, twenty-nine years ago. He wears boxers, the pattern varies, but he likes blue to go with his jeans. Jack is safe and you can't see her until she has been fully settled where she is, which will probably be in a day."

"That wasn't the deal."

"No, but I am tired and it's the deal for now. We have to get out of the area. Now."

"Are you fucking with me? Stringing me along? I want you to know that if anything happens to Jack --you-will be running from -me-for the rest of your very--short--life."

Casteel took his words in silently. So, he really did care for Jack. Like she was family. She stood up and edged past him, "like I said, nothing more will happen to her while I'm alive. I'm willing to die to stop Len. How far will you go?"




Slightly dazed, Len wandered out of the emergency room of Gentrel Hospital, his arm in a temporary cast and salve in his free hand for the bruise on his back. The Doctors had told him that he would be "as right as rain in two days and full mobility in your arm in three, cast off in four." Good thing he'd taken out travellers insurance under his new name - bone remodelling was expensive and only used on insured patients.

Four days tops and he'd be back in control of the game. But in the mean time, he would use his time productively. He was going to make sure every person on the street knew what Casteel was. He'd heard some interesting tales about the grisly deaths many Merc's met on this planet...



 

Previous    Fiction List    More to Come...