Title: GRANGER’S RUN
Pairing: a Riddick loves Ava story
Rating: nc17//hetero sex, consensual, anal. Language, murder
Disclaimer:nope, I don’t own Riddick, and what happens to him within the confines of my demented little story is right out of my head. Ava, yep, she’s out of my head too. So are all the other characters.
summary: after PB, TCoR and DF nonexistent. After the short story ODD COUPLE, where Riddick pairs up with assassin Ava Black, and decide to make their living killing mercs.
Archive: VX, FDB
Feedback:In this thread only please. No shreds; I write for fun only
Copyright ©2005-2006 xxxevilgrinxxx
“Am I fucking boring you Davis?”
Slam my fist down on the table for emphasis, knocking my own coffee all over in the process. Damn. That waitress took twenty minutes to get me the first one. Davis is an idiot, why should I care if he gets killed on this run. Except for the fact that he’ll get the rest of us killed right along with him.
Name’s Granger. Forty eight. Doesn’t seem old, but it is, for my line of work. Most of us get the hell out by thirty five or so. I got called in on this one. Seems there aren’t that many mercs around that have hunted Riddick,and lived to talk about it.
There’s Vaughn of course. He’s smart, not saying a thing, listening to every damned word. Had a hard on for Riddick since Riddick went to cut his throat, and missed. Slash up the jawline and took out an eye. Makes it a little hard for Vaughn to get a date. Makes it pretty hard for him to think clearly where Riddick’s concerned. What the hell, Riddick wasn’t even eighteen at the time, I’d say Vaughn was lucky.
Petrie. Just a damned kid himself. Why the hell he took this run, I don’t know. Then again, after Riddick’s original file disappeared, it’s pretty hard to just sit and read for a few hours and find out just what kind of a god damned psycho you’re dealing with. Not like there are enough people who lived through a run for him that could tell you either. He’s not going to make it. I try not to talk to him too much, it’ll be easier that way when he’s dead, if I didn’t really know him.
Davis. He just doesn’t know when to keep quiet.
“So what, so she’s fucking Riddick, that means she’s got to be a psycho too? I mean, I guess it would help, but she’s just a broad, how bad could she be?”
Fenton. Old school merc, from the bad old days. Tough as nails. Never thought anything would rattle Fenton. Had a run in with Riddick, and that other one. Did all the right things. Sent out a quiet alert, with a lot of back up. They got to him before the back up showed, and then took out the back up. Nearly 17 mercs got killed that night.
“Fenton has been under psych care for the past month. The first week he spent his time blaming himself, saying if he just wasn’t so rude to her, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. That’s after just one run in with this woman.” Nothing from Davis on this. Davis isn’t very fond of the fairer sex.
Sure, all he lost was a finger. Docs say the psychological damage was a hell of a lot worse. The guy won’t sleep at night. Terrified she’s going to come back one night and kill him in his sleep. He had gone about a week without sleep, doping himself, before somebody finally got him some help.
“She’s an unknown. All we have is the name Brightman. No picture, no ID. Most likely an alias. Believed to be Agency. Not many of them left anymore. That means she’s an assassin. The guys paying for this particular show want her as well, alive.”
“Riddick is where the money is here.” Vaughn, showing where his heart lies.
“Nobody gets paid unless we bring her in. That’s the deal. Hell, it’s other mercs that put this bounty out. Riddick might kill mercs when he has to, but he never went out of his way to hunt them before. Something’s changed. This broad might be it.” Not often mercs will pony up money for something like this. Must be getting nervous.
Don’t even want to tell them about the McDermott fiasco. Hell, there isn’t any proof there, anyways. Except that McDermott was boasting about owning an Agency assassin. Made a lot of threats, talked a lot of shit. Hard to say what’s on the up and up. Seems he had a contract out on Riddick.
Now, McDermotts dead. Safe cleaned out. Files are gone. Blew the house up, but there was enough left to get a good look at what they did to McDermott before he died. Tortured, then killed him. Stabbed more than a hundred times. Had to scrape the mess up with a shovel. Slashes fit the profile of a straight razor. Same weapon used on Fenton. Yea, I know. Pretty slim, which is why I don’t mention it. I feel it in my gut that it’s the same person.Instinct is what’s kept me alive this long. These guys might just think the old man’s losing it. So I stay quiet.
“An informant gave us some info last week. Says they’ll be staying for a couple of days at the Midorian.” Your basic floating resort. Seen better days. Business not so much on the up and up these days. Riddick and his girl would be dealing in cash, and that might draw an eye in a lot of nicer places. Not much to worry about here. The Midorian might look nice with the lights way down low, but she’s an old barfly, and her age is starting to show. Then again, Riddick likes it dark.
“We missed them the last time they made a stop for supplies, they were gone by the time we got there. Getting fed up of hearing about guys I spent my life with showing up dead everywhere these two go. I’d like to get them this time.”
Seems they like to stop every couple of weeks somewhere for supplies, guess that’s understandable. Who the hell wants to live on protein bars and crappy coffee for weeks on end.
Always go somewhere decent for dinner, whenever they stop, stay somewhere nice. If I didn’t know Riddick better, I’d say it sounded a lot like a god damned date. Doesn’t exactly sound like Riddick, who was more likely to hit the local whorehouse and then disappear again. I don’t like that he’s changing tactics. Makes me damned worried.The guys scary enough without getting even more unpredictable.
Fuck, my head hurts. Reach over, start drinking Davis’s coffee. He shoots me the eye, but decides to say nothing.
This run’s the last thing I want to be doing, but it keeps me from thinking about Louise. At least that’s the idea. Louise. My wife. Dead of cancer for the past six months. Loved her from the moment I met her, twenty two years ago. We were twenty six, and she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Nothing’s going to make that better, or make it hurt any less. Maybe being on a run again will keep me from eating my gun.
We’re getting ready to leave. The waitress fills my coffee cup, just as I get up from the table.