Chapter 8; Subterranean malevolence
Thought, endless streaming thoughts, making the world suffer all on it's own. Just like Carolyn had for those passengers, killing them and dying for them. Like Johns with his morphine addiction and then naturally, knowing Skylar. Yes, Skylar, the deep-rooted insanity of a tortured past, something Jack had been a apart of, a big part.
It all seemed to go down to her, that little singularity that brought all the pain and joy into his life. Richard B. Riddick had been hunted by many a merc, though none of them had been such a pain in the butt as Johns, and if Johns hadn't been addicted to morph, he wouldn't have met Skylar and Macy, and if those two hadn't been driven to protect Jack, as well as their far away psyche, none of the shit would have taken place.
If...what if....maybe.
Words that were a pain for him, useless to a survivor since only the now and the future mattered. Although the past could play an interesting part at the things that it brought with itself, like Jack. His history with Jack had probably some relations to what he was doing here.
Jack....every soft curve and every sweet tone of voice. God she'd changed. He didn't know if the texture of her skin had changed, but her form had, stronger and thinner, a little like Skylar but not as much of a toothpick. Her voice rarely sounded sweet around him, her pain all too obvious to herself to even attempt to hide it in anything else than hate, self created hate.
And then the girl, the one they called Bleeder, the one Jack named Prologis.
Why?
Prolog, as in a beginning? Or the fiction of her vivid imagination? Had she even had a choice when it came to choosing a name?
The words of Wolf's daughter still rang in his head. Bleeder, she'd said, as if the name was meant to send tremors down his spine and make him pee himself in the pants.
And Jack knew, Jack knew every single answer to his riddle.
Maybe, maybe it was time to break his "special" rule and risk first contact.
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-"One little elephant, two little elephants, three little elephants very drunk elephants. Geese, shit."
Jack marvelled over her daughter's resourcefulness. Prologis' access to not so healthy supplies was supposed to be restricted. Everything from sugar to heavy duty LSD. Alcohol was probably somewhere in the middle.
Hands on hips the woman made herself noticeable with a very loud motherly "ahem".
Sleepy eyes greeted hers, a body in the embrace of another, fully dressed but still it did create a considerable amount of worries within the motherly part and logical part of Jack, all in all, the terribly gone wrong human part of her.
-"Oh, hi mommy...before you start yellin'an'all, I just gotta tell yah this. Guess who went off fucking."
Not too impressed with her daughters words, or half way hangovers, Jack proceeded to listen with one part of her brain and getting ready to shower herself over the little alcoholic to become with the other brainpart. Not that either of them were that functional after all those sedatives.
-"Who? Marcus and Rashanti?"
Prologis giggled a childish girlish laugh, at that moment she looked so much like all other girls of her age, not from this ship, not raised by a Muslim priest and certainly not recreated by some fucked up bunch of scientists.
-"Nope, Wolf 2 and...Rashanti!"
A smile crept over mother's lips, a laugh could barely be contained when the mental image of Rashanti with his red dreads would be thrown out the airlock and decompress in space. The of course, Wolf standing there, being all motherly and all. What an unusual picture, despite always knowing Wolf as a mother to Wolf 2 Jack had never really grown to see her friend in that light.
Perhaps that brought them together, that they'd never really meant to be mothers, especially not at such an early age.
-"Prologis, aren't you clear on the rules? No alcohol."
The eyes rolled back in the daughter's sockets, a heavy plump heard as she let herself fall down onto Thief, who in response woke up with a grumpy reply of get the-fuck-off-of-me.
-"Yeah, I know, but I didn't drink any, they did all the drinking, yessir, lots of alcohol, into their brain, but I didn't drink a single drop."
Disbelief, but mild anger surfed through the not nearly thirty year old mother.
-"How come you can lie anyone but me shit full?"
The girlie smiled once again, her shined eyes showing that she was still actually a little drunk, or perhaps just incredibly giddy. Jack was personally hoping for the later one.
-"Cuz I don't get drunk at my house and them my mama finds me, half ass drunk with...most of my friends around."
Oh, fuck, so she still was drunk.
-"Just how much did you drink, Prologis?"
An expression of escape spread over the girl like bad weed. Her eyes grew embarrassingly troublesome as she bit he lips in some twisted agony that she got a severe kick out of.
-"More than I have before."
If Jack would have believed in a god, she would have fallen onto her knees and told it to go to hell for giving her such a hard to handle daughter, but then again, was she even allowed to say that judging from her own past?
With a single grip Jack pulled her daughter up, which wasn't all that hard since the kid was too fucking limp from alcohol to even resist!
-"Were we goin'?"
Jack continued to pull her kid out of the apartment, not too happy about what had just happened and made a mental note to herself.
*Never ever let Prologis near a computer*
-"We are going to the lab, to have you detoxed."
A whining sound came from the strange girl with messy hair, the normal teen sound echoing through populated halls that didn't seem surprised to see an armored woman drag a drunk teenager towards the research level.
-"Moooooom, nooo, I don't wanna goooooo, pleeaaaase."
As tired as she was, Jack sincerely was trying to do her best at being a mother, just, it was too damn hard at times when she had the experience of doing almost just what her daughter was heading for.
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And then alone, together, all by themselves, in the darkness where he was at his best, at ease since no one but him knew what lay there. Or once, once it had been that way, bit now. Yeah, now she saw everything as clearly as he did, and perhaps even better. She could enjoy the light as well as the darkness. She had evil, she had good.
-"I think we need to talk, Jackleen."
IN a snort of a kind Jack replied all so kindly.
-"Go fuck yourself, Riddick."
He mused over her, the thoughts that must be passing by her pretty head, and the fear he could smell from her. Why did she still fear him? Why hadn't the Jack he knew gotten over it?
-"I already did that once, don't intent on doing it again."
Some part of his words, some part of his mellow voice brought her folded hands down to her sides, a little more vulnerable than before. He saw her eyes go over a train of thought that must have gone by her a thousand times before, when she slept, when she woke and then in the precious moment of disturbance between.
-"Right, and you just had to take me along in the fall."
-"Don't blame me for your weakness."
Involuntarily Jack finally sat down on a near by chair, bench or what ever it was, even his shine job couldn't reveal what that funny looking thing was.
An hour ago, or so, when he'd found Jack in the practice room, all alone, he had decided to lock the two of them in together, not giving Jack access to the control panel to hack her way out and conveniently enough *their* kid was in the med lab, getting detoxed and treated by the enigmatic Wolf.
Although he did worry...actually although wouldn't be the proper word.
His head felt full, over boiling but yet calm. Worries about that kid, that
kid that was suppose to be his.
He couldn't let go of this chance though, a chance to talk to Jack, in private,
finally, and perhaps for some time, perhaps sort some of their shit out.
God he wanted to touch her again, even if he'd have to wait for years he just wanted to touch her again.
-"You wanna talk, fine talk...just don't expect me to listen."
Her words razor sharp, but they did not even begin to cut the thick layer of emotional protection the mass murderer wore over his mental skin.
-"I wanna talk about Prologis."
Jack froze, completely and utterly frozen, even the glint of hate in her
eyes died and something else, something that precious hate had been hiding,
froze.
No words spoken for a while, not until Riddick was absolutely sure that
Jack didn't wanna spit some words out, even if it'd be the purest venom.
Anything, anything to get her talking.
-"Is she mine?"
Picking up her defensive position Jack started to pace around, her hands folded and thoughts and concerns already flooding her body with the all too alien to be there or real. Motherly concern, Riddick had never tasted it so up-close. An emotion of the strongest kind.
-"Didn't you read the files?"
Files? What for did he need files, already he'd seen enough to be sure, he just needed Jack to admit it to him, he simply had to know what she was thinking. It seemed that the closer he got to a person, the harder it became to predict their reactions. Such a pathetic contradiction.
-"The files don't say what I need to know."
Her delicate strong hand ran through her brown hair, he could almost feel the soft brown strands of her under his fingertips, tingling his senses, even if it where her hand running through and over her hair, he still felt it. It hadn't been that long ago.
-"She's ours. Can I go now, do you know what you want to know?"2
*Ours*
A simple word devouring so much pain and creating incredible misery in a voice not meant for things of such a devious nature. Her voice already trembling from his presence, from the amount of time spent with him in solitude.
-"Why are you trembling Jack? Why didn't you tell me the truth in the first place? What the fuck is wrong with our kid? I've got a lot of questions Jack and I'm not letting you out until you've told me all you know."
Tears, sudden tears brimming upon her face, pain, such utter pain that he had never really seen in her face, except when she had dared to try kill herself. Was he the cause of that, of all of that?
-"Shit."
An important word indeed.
-"Shit, you have no fucking idea what's going on Riddick."
He leaned forwards, closer to her, so close he could scent every single sweatdrop on her body. Almost taste it.
-"Tell me."
Her pacing stopped and she returned to her former occupied spot, not looking at Riddick, not having the nerve when she wasn't wearing her shield of nasty words and attitude.
-"When she was born, God, it was horrible. I only saw her for a brief second, but what ever that thing was, it wasn't whole."
The pain, so final entered Riddick's mind. His own kid? He'd nearly killed his own kid?.
-"I came here, worked like a bitch, years later, six months counting cryo sleep, Imam contacted me, telling me that...he had her...safe and sound. So she came, about eight. Fuck, Riddick, you really don't have a clue. She isn't human, the things she did, what her body did. Who ever took her away from me did horrible things to her, even if those assholes saved her, death still would have been a better fate than what she's got now."
Her words stopped. Her tears no longer were, gently he allowed himself to take her hand, finding himself getting ready for the nastiest of all truths.
Chapter 9; Bloodstained records
Only ten when the worst had occurred.
Finding her little girl, sitting all alone in a room. He'd been told not to give her anything, blunt or not, harmless or not. And of all things the man had given the kid a fork.
The complete despair joined Jack together with the rest of her team mates, naturally, the Crawlers were left out of it. Children shouldn't be bothered with such pain, but, Thief was there, Thief was there to listen, to agree or disagree. Personally Jack almost wished death for her daughter than what lay ahead, for he own good, not for anyone else, just her own.
-"Thief, how long is it until your symbiot reproduces?"
Palled with the former discussion and the information he had received about Prologis' condition, the hereditary disease called severe suicidal attempts.
-"Six days, maybe less, my skin is already blistering."
Hiding her face in her hands, not wanting anyone to see the sincere torture
upon her sole face and to see deeper into the wretched psyche she dared
to call her soul. Wolf's monotone political doctor-like voice made speeches,
words and aspect as well as options that they had.
Jack already knew all the options, and quite frankly they all made her sick,
they all made her wanna stab her intellect to death and curse it for being
a little more than an animal. The choices were all cruel.
1. To let Prologis recover and back on track to the potential mass murderer she was becoming due to her genetic enhancement. Those damn fuckers had tried to make a killer out of her girl.
2. Give her a symbiot. Many pirates had them, Thief had already gotten his when they'd found him on a slave colony. Apparently he'd been a successful experiment in controlling both his genetic make up as well as all behavior and even personality. Complete brainwashing to be direct.
His symbiot was about to reproduce, there for it was an option to plant it into Prologis and try to control her nature as a killer as well as her sixteen suicidal attempts.
3. And the most merciful choice, to let her die, to unhook her lung support and let her die.
But no.
Always no.
The girl had managed to make a choice and Jack simply couldn't disrespect that, she also didn't know if she'd be able to live through loosing her daughter again.
The second choice.
The worst and most immoral choice of all.
Yes, indeed they had succeeded, Prologis hadn't tried to kill herself since after the merge with the symbiot, and with medications and training her human nature had grown. *Luckily* enough Jack already knew how to resurrect humanity in a being, after all, she'd lived with Riddick.
Those were the only good things, the rest was a walking nightmare. Her daughter would never be able to have children, would never be able to love a boy, never be able to take a mate, unless it'd be Thief. And worst of all, if she did go out of control it didn't last for just hours, it'd be permanent until they'd stuff her body up with medications and shots. Oh, and when she did loose it, she lost it completely. Her speaking abilities would become almost non-existent, only leaving primitive thoughts inside her strange skull. And she'd have to make up for all the killings she hadn't done on meds. All those things tore Jack's hear apart, more than having her own daughter trying to kill her.
The worst day of Jack Menski so far, was the day she had witnessed the merge.
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Cold space and few words, the thoughts none, nothing but procedure, nothing but pain agonizing over that which wasn't possible to change.
Her little homicidal girl lay tied down to one of those surgery tables, shackles and cuffs everywhere skin didn't need to be exposed to the luscious overbearing white lighting.
Behind a glass prison Jack eyed her daughter and the boy who soon would mean more to Prologis than her own mother. But at least it'd be a life, right?
In young eyes a load of unexpected maturity and concern lay, more than was suppose to be on the shoulders of a teenage boy. How cruel to only think of her own flesh and blood. This boy would also loose great many things, and he'd be stuck with Prologis for life
Slowly Jack took the deepest of breaths and exhaled, getting ready for one more hell ride ala Riddick.
*******************
-"Shit."
All she could manage was a whispery "yeah" through the already drowning tears, although she'd never been much of a crier. This just tore her apart and Riddick's presence didn't make it any easier, it wasn't meant to.
The surging pain let her forget for a moment, the stabbing useless and irrational fear of Richard B. Riddick.
Why the fuck to be scared of him when you had a daughter like THAT?
-"I'm sorry Jack."
Those words unintentionally brought her back, made her shake of the delicate solid touch.
-"Yeah, right."
With some pissiness and still shaking Jack rose from the long storytelling, reviewing the past was like cutting her own skin into pieces, ripping up every single half healed and festering wound.
Heading for the control panel, just wanting to get out and away. Wanting to see her daughter sleep peacefully, even if the kid would be suffering from a hangover, drinking was one of the teenage curiosities that followed puppetry.
Sweet, sweet daughter, who'd never be touched by her fucker of a father, spoiled by Skylar and Macy. Never know Riddick's protectiveness.......
As she walked out the doors Riddick didn't even try to stop her mentally heavy and tortured steps. Even if some of his questions lay still unanswered.
Why are you trembling, Jack?
**********************************
*Did I get drunk?*
One eye narrowed in deep superficial thought.
*Oops, I think I got drunk, well, I've got one fuck of a hangover so I must have gotten drunk, but I don't remember getting drunk*
Her hand lifted up, scratching the neon red hair.
*Of course you can't remember you idiot, you got drunk. Really drunk*
Rubbing her wrist, for an odd unexplained reason it was incredibly sore, not bruised, but sore all right.
*Oh, yeah, I was kinda sobering up when mom walked in.....did Rashanti and Wolf 2...??*
Laughter, crazy crazy laughter resounding through a drowning eternity of the white lab. Why in fuck couldn't it be as personal as the mission team's med lab?
*They did! Holy fuck, WOLF 2's got hormones*
Her side hurt indefinitely as still her words rumbled through the cold-blooded room and its staff. Man, oh shit, man!
Somebody was put up to suffer, someone was really not....a scent.
A scent of blood. Delightful and pleasant to her, fresh, perhaps a nights old. A salty scent, more than just the blood, tears. With the slight tint of alien aromas.
All humor ran out of Prologis' system as if all hell had decided to escape from her mind. Pain gripped at her and tried to rip her apart. Her tired eyes roamed over the room, not really making anything out and hoping that nothing would be there, hoping that the bogey man had taken a holiday and decided to leave her to her miserable hangover.
Ah, look around. Oh, look, look, look, look.....He's bleeding! Bleeding a lot, a lot, a lot. Mhhhh, tasty. Rashanti?
All cut up....and Wolf 2, her pearl white tears staining her pretty pale face. White tears, black tears.
The woman who cried black. So damn familiar.
So different from the Wolf cub over there. Lips, lips shaking, tremors of pain crawling like a pari through and out her flesh.
Fuck.
Her subordinates had fucked. Damn...she'd forgotten who they were. Shit....just kids, even if older than her, just kids.
Her body wanted to rise and yell and interfere in the ongoing matters, but to weak from detox and too tired from all the drinking to even rise.
Rashanti bleeding to death.
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Death, the sweetest and utter most blissful emotion of all, soothing and thoughtless, nothing there to be or see or worry about. Just nothing.
Death.
Light brown eye lids closed back as Wolf tried to save his cut up ass, anger in the female's eyes. Pain cornering at the edge of them.
It didn't matter, not really, things were just fine. No pain, no misery ever again, no more meds or worries about going psycho on everyone else.
Oh, sweet nothing. Best to stay that way, to fade away into the unknown embrace of never. Gentle being, sweet life, passed by into something by far sweeter.
Death
And thus, the life of Rashanti, the crawler, ended.
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Life burst though them in tears or cold frowns meant to conceal the pain
beneath. Damien cried openly, holding Sil's hand tightly, tears falling
sombrely down his ebony face and the eyes with a look that reminded Prologis
of another memory, a memory not belonging to her.
As if seeing a flash through someone else's eyes. Mother's eyes probably.
Wolf stood there, out of guilt and anger. Guilt over being angry, almost glad that the boy was dead, that Wolf 2 had lost control and killed the poor kid.
Then the second version, Wolf 2, absent, floating in the empty halls of Zion, maybe still crying, for many reasons, all too many reasons that could not be tempered with or even understood. Nothing cut through her surface.
And Prologis, Prologis.
Just stood there with a cold face, almost like her mother. Eyes not even swollen from crying, but fists bandaged from anger and self-incrimination. Hadn't she gotten drunk this wouldn't have happened, she would have used logic as a weapon. Hadn't she gotten booze, none of them would have gotten drunk, Rashanti wouldn't have died.
All her simplistic fault, an innocent common game of drink and drop. Not even a first, god, she'd been in that med lab so often because of drinking.What had made this time different?
How in hell could this time be any different from all the others? Uncaring pain begun to rip at her once again, fuelling a beast growling beneath her skin.
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To see her like that, it reached into his heart and even made it beat a little faster out of sheer pain. Her eyes covered in nothing but unlimited pain, beneath that odd mask of frost. A little creature, yet lethal. A little boss running around. How could she even be his? That thirteen-year-old with an attitude? How did her hair really look? Why had she dyed it? How did she feel? How damaged could his...his....kid be?
Thirteen years, thirteen years of loss, lost in cryo sleep, lost in redemption of his crimes.
Who'd seen her take her first steps? Who'd heard her speak her first words?
Had it been some obscure scientist?
What in fuck had they done to his kid, his daughter?
Whatever it was, they'd pay when Richard B Riddick would cross their paths, be tortured, worse than that old fuck Menski had. Nah, the ones who'd tortured his daughter would most defiantly scream for eternity before death would humble itself by its presence. Much like what had happened to that cut up kid over there.
It did touch him a little, to know that this was a potential happening to Prologis, but other than that he did not feel much over a dead boy he had barely talked to. Other's felt for the boy, understandably. But what had he died from was a question Riddick didn't mind getting answered.