Eat Me Series Part 3
Fiona finds herself once again on a hot planet, in the middle of nowhere, with Johns and a struggling memory. Just like old times, save for the fact she doesn't remember the bald villain that is pushing havoc on the people aroun...
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There was enough room for four full crews in the command center; enough room for more men than were in there now and Fiona felt over crowded. The bomb strapped to the front of the metal box that held the key to getting off this planet wasn't sitting right with her either. She wanted to be ok with it, she wanted to have faith in Johns like the rest of his crew, but there was a nagging sensation in the back of her brain telling her to keep on alert.
The sun was sinking just over the horizon, clouds engulfing the near-night sky rapidly. The darkness was coming on quickly, the mood of the men around her changing with each second. Fiona kept to herself, minding her fingers and toes as Santana's men went about their orders. They were unpacking something big, lights shinning brightly on the contraption just outside the command center front doors. There were enough men alone to provide two spotlights and patrollers, eyes surveying the desert around them.
She listened to the murmurs, the whispers, and the complaints. She hid under the comfort of night and took a seat on an empty cargo box that was pushed up against the side of the building; just in reach of the light but hidden amongst the shadows. The moon in the sky was blood red, black clouds dancing over the surface in a tease. She wasn't bothered by the dark; rather she closed her eyes, leaning her head back on the cool metal of the building and enjoyed its embrace. Reaching up, she slipped the glasses from her eyes and tucked them into one of her many pockets.
"So I guess that's what passes as a fucking moon on this planet?" Johns stepped out of the command center, his feet carrying him over the dirt towards Santana.
There was a second set of feet just behind him, she assumed Dhal. They stopped on the landing just outside, she could hear the pull of leather as the woman crossed her arms. Just to Fiona's left one of Santana's brushed by, not noticing her there in the dark. The young man, a rosary in his hands, was deep in thought, prayers spilling softly from his lips.
The rest of the crew was just on the outskirts of the light. Feet carried them a few inches out and a few inches in, all of them pacing and bitching about the enormity of the crew and the lack of light. All of them too scared to venture too far out.
"It's gonna be a dark night." Johns took a sip from his cup, glancing over at Santana briefly. "Advantage him."
Fiona chuckled; uncrossing her legs and peeling her right eye open slightly. Regardless of there being no sun she could see perfectly fine. The world took on a slightly gray tone but the colors were still there. The lack of light didn't hinder her eyes in the least, a newfound trait she had been scared of when she had first opened her eyes. Much like the hearing she had grown used to it, even playing with it. When she wanted to escape from the floating air bitch back home she would flip all the lights off and just leave the room quietly.
"Maybe he's going to wear you down first. Force you to go without sleep."
Dahl uncrossed her arms and pulled her gun from the holster on her leg. The shifting of noise to her left, to Fiona's left, was shrouded in darkness for Dahl. Fiona glanced over, watching as the boy with the rosary continued on his mumbling, gun down at his side, eyes drifting out at the endless sky. He could easily be dead, darkness or not, Dahl never missed a target.
"Can't you see I'm busy?" Santana slammed a hand down on the table in front of him, the monitor still blank as the giant heat-seeking sensor scanned the area. Dahl looked back, ignoring the disturbance to her left and focusing her pistol on the back of Santana's head. Fiona could see the glee in the woman's face, the sheer thought of blowing away the creep playing over and over in the blonde's mind.
She wouldn't blame her.
"I'm just sharing my thoughts." And annoying you, and pestering you, and getting under your skin. All things Johns was good at. Fiona knew what he was up to and she could tell it was working. In the end, this Riddick was worth a lot, and Johns was going to play to win, using all of his tools given.
"Well," Santana turned his body towards the offending captain, "now that you have. Can I politely invite you to step off my fucking porch."
Johns wasn't fazed by the tone nor the volume. He only shrugged, eyes catching sight of Fiona just in the back. They shared a second before he turned around and bid his farewell to the sully Santana. Just as Johns' boot hit the dirt beside her box, his eyes moving from the dark sky to gaze down at her and speak, the giant beacon in the middle of the silent desert, not ten feet away, started to squawk insistently loud.
Johns looked over his shoulders, a moment of eager excitement in his features. He couldn't hear the conversation Santana was having from here, and it bothered him. Fiona uncrossed her legs, shrugging out her glasses from their hiding place and slipped them back over her eyes. She rose carefully.
"It's a dog. Not Riddick."
Johns nodded but he didn't seem to be listening fully. In a fleeting second he had removed himself from the outside and charged in, Dhal fast on his heels, leaving Fiona alone as the crew that was not with her chattered over their airway line. She jumped at the gunshot, eyes trying to find some kind of shape in the dark that was slipping to its death. But there wasn't anything and she heard the dispersing banter between the men. At least she knew their aim was shit.
"Nice work Diaz, encouraging." Santana's sarcasm was evident. His eyes scanned the area and before she knew it he was looking at her. His glum indifference turned into a sharp smile, his eyes eating away at her clothes.
"I had something in my eye."
"It's called a scope." Santana nodded at her, eyes lingering for a moment before returning to his screen. "Better luck next time."
Fiona ignored the rest of the conversation, brushing invisible dust from her pants. She stepped over the metal box and slipped into the darkness. The young man with the rosary stood there, back to her, eyes bouncing around. He couldn't see the figure standing ten yards in front of him, the hulking outline plain as far as Fiona was concerned.
She moved silently, standing two feet to the right of Satana's crewman, noting the way his ears perked up at the soft sound of sand under her feet. But he wasn't alarmed. The man just in the distance was complete darkness. He wore a robe over his head, something shielding his eyes, and no matter the amount of squint Fiona couldn't make out any defining features in the shroud of night.
He was big though, the bulk of the cloak nothing compared to the bulk that lay underneath. In his hand was a blade, the moon bouncing off the surface slightly. The boy to her left seemed to notice that, his finger slipping onto the trigger as he raised the gun ever so slightly.
The unseen man seemed to shake, a soft chuckle heard from where she stood. She could make out his slow breathing pattern now, she could hear his soft heart beat underneath the flesh and muscle and bone of his chest. And just as the noise became overwhelming, as her heart began to beat in rhythm with his and all she could hear was the whisper of the air coming out of his nose he was gone.
"You should be more careful." Her whisper startled the boy. He drew his gun, fumbling with the safety latch, eyes searching the darkness. He was off by a few inches but she didn't correct him. Santana called out for his men, and she left the boy to his own devices, heading back towards the light.
