The Convicts Captain (Riddick Fanfic)

Not The Merc Type

Riddick had expected a multitude of things to occur during his interaction with the woman. Admittedly he had only encountered a max of two of them. Pleading? Definitely. Anger? Not exactly there, that or the captain was just really good at hiding it. Threats? Surprisingly not. The thing that had really thrown him off-kilter though, was her offer. More so, how quickly it had been thrown out. Most people would have at least tried to bargain a few other things before jumping to aiding in theft. But she hadn't.

It was a wrench thrown into the clockwork that was his expectations. Quite an interesting feeling for the convict who always tried to anticipate things. Needless to say, it sparked his curiosity in her. Though it was the name she spoke that kindled the flicker into a small flame. Now, Riddick resorted to searching around the small control room. Seeking to find anything that could answer at least a few of the questions floating about in his mind. One more so than others, who was this Asher she spoke of?

It took only a quick scan of the area for Riddick to realize he wouldn't find anything. Not in the control room at least. The only thing unusual, and out of place thing was the hardcover book lying open on the floor beside him. He took a moment to check the ship's route. Changing it as needed before stepping out of the room.

His gaze immediately swiveled to the woman. She was laying with her back mostly to him, her body propped against the pipes running along the wall. Riddick's eyes narrowed as he studied her further. One arm was still suspended above her, and wrapped tightly in the plain colored paracord, while the other was rested across her stomach. Based on the steady rise and fall of her chest, paired with the calm beat of her heart. Riddick concluded she was asleep, or at least was trying to be. It puzzled him how she could do so. She was trapped on a ship with a notorious killer, he would have guessed it would be the last thing on her mind. Whatever her reasoning, he supposed it mattered little to him. Just as long as she didn't chuck her remaining boot at him, or try to escape, she could do whatever.

Riddick turned his attention away from the sleeping woman and to the hall. Walking down it at an even pace, he stopped at the first door he came to.

He wasn't sure of the door's exact color, thanks to the stickers plastered over its surface. However, with what little of the door's original hue peeked through, he could tell it was a brighter shade. Riddick's brow raised as he placed his hand on the cool surface and pushed on it. The door swung open slowly and quietly, once Riddick had gotten a good scan of it's interior (mostly making sure that no one was hiding in it), he slipped in.

He was thankful to find that the lights in this room didn't activate immediately when he had. However, he made no move to turn them on. With his eyes, he didn't really need to. Everything in the room was perfectly visible to him, though others would have struggled to see its interior.

The room itself wasn't very large, even by ship standards. Holding only a single bed built into the wall farthest from the door. Its bedding was dusty, with cartoon characters adorning the colorful material. The adjacent wall was decorated with scribbled drawings held onto the metallic surface with different bits of colorful duck tape.Though the tape seemed to be losing its grip, with more than a few looking as if they were moments away from falling off. There was no order to their placement, just like the stickers were uneven, chaotic. Riddick approached the wall opposite of the one with the pictures. A set of shelves were built in, filled with various figurines, stuffed animals, and books kept in place with a velcro strap. Below them was a chest of some sort. No doubt holding even more toys in it as well.

He tilted his head as he inspected each of the books more thoroughly. The majority looked to be easy reads. Something meant for a child not much older then the age of five, while others were more suited for older kids. The convict wiped his fingers across the open space of the shelf. A light grey color covered the tip of his finger. Dust. The same thing that covered the books, shelves, and most everything else in the room. This area hadn't been lived in for quite some time.