Pitch Black Cyn

Cyn couldn’t help being amused by Paris, like he was a mouse scrambling around under the watchful eyes of a housecat.

She’d seen the weapons he’d brought when the group had learned of Riddick’s escape, the wooden staffs and blow darts, and knew he would be one of the first to die.

If cowardice had a scent, it was Paris Ogilvie.

Maybe she’d finally find out what chicken tasted like…

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Al warned, sharpening a piece of metal into a lethal point.

“If we start too early, it’ll be over to quickly.”

“Too quickly for what?”

Something like thoughtfulness crossed Al’s face like a shadow, and Cyn’s ears twitched in curiosity.

“…You’ll see.”

Used to her mate’s cryptic replies, the cat-girl grumbled and returned her attention to scanning the horizon.

Her and Paris had been put on look-out duty, as if Fry could sense that Paris might slack off.

Al was just keeping her company while Shazza and Jack were in the ship fixing up the hull and Zeke was digging graves for the dead.

“Such a waste.” Cyn lamented, pouting in the direction of the burial site.

“I’m getting hungry, and there’s all that meat…”

Al’s glare, even through the visor, was enough to shut Cyn’s mouth.

“You’re not blowing our cover, Cyn. Once those creatures come out of hiding, you can eat THEM.”

“I guess…” Cyn admitted, tail swishing slowly in defeat.

“But what if they taste bad?”

“This coming from the girl nicknamed ‘shark stomach’?”

“I thought that tire was meat!”

Quirking an incredulous eyebrow, Al turned back to her hand-made knife.

“SURE you did…”

Sticking her tongue out childishly, Cyn crossed her arms and huffed.

“Meanie…”

Al was starting to understand why no one expected Cyn of being a murderer…

Looking over her shoulder towards Paris, Cyn smirked at the sight of Jack sneaking up on the unsuspecting man.

It was like watching a cub stalk its first prey, and she sat back to watch.

Al twitched, noticing as well, and the slightest of smiles crossed her face.

“She’s cute.”

Nodding in agreement, Cyn turned back to where their little splinter group had gone.

“…There’s no water here, is there?”

Shaking her head, Al tilted her head towards the cat-girl and bumped her arm.

“Relax. We’ll get out of here soon.”

Now it was Cyn’s turn to quirk an eyebrow at her mate, leaning back on her hands.

“How, exactly? The ship’s mangled.”

There was that sly smile, the one that said she knew something and wasn’t going to tell.

“You’ll see.”

With a groan, Cyn fell back and grumbled into her palms.

She HATED waiting…

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Testing the grip and balance of her newly-crafted blades, Al didn’t even raise her head when a foreign presence came to her attention.

“Someone’s coming from the east.”

Turning to her right, Cyn sniffed the air, ears twitching in thought.

“…Another passenger, from one of the pods that was let go during the crash. He’s in shock.”

“Trauma?”

“He’s bleeding, if that’s what you mean.”

Nodding slightly, Al flipped her new shiv expertly before sliding it in-between her breasts.

“Let the others meet him first. He’ll feel more secure with his own kind.”

Reluctant to agree, Cyn willed her tail-blades back into hiding and gouged impatient grooves on the ship’s hull with her claws.

Every instinct was telling her to go for the wounded prey, to sink her teeth its neck and bleed the life out-

Gunshots shattered her dark daydream, and she looked back to see the man dead, Zeke cursing and with a gun in hand.

She caught him saying “I thought it was Riddick,” and locked gazes with Al.

“They’re a jumpy bunch, aren’t they?”

“It might keep them alive.” Al replied, turning her eyes towards Paris’ look-out, where Riddick was lounging like a predator at ease.

“…Or it might get them killed.”

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Though Al was known to be the more pessimistic of the pair, Cyn wasn’t as naïve as others believed.

She knew most of their little ragtag band of survivors was going to die, she just didn’t know who or how.

Perhaps she could even sate her hunger before this adventure was done…

A death-shriek pierced the air, ringing in her ears with a well-known familiarity.

It was the sound of a man caught in the grip of death’s claws, knowing he was about to die.

Al stiffened, pin-pointing the source as adrenaline hit Cyn’s bloodstream.

“Zeke.”

Getting up immediately, Cyn jumped off her perch and was running towards the tarp that hid the new burial site.

Al didn’t follow right away, watching the scene unfold for a moment before running after her mate.

The scent of blood hit her nose a few yards from the tarp, and Cyn knew, instinctively, that Zeke couldn’t have survived losing so much.

Excited at the smell, she went faster, knowing that Al could catch up at any moment to stop her from blowing their cover.

Pushing the tarp out of the way, Cyn realized one thing immediately.

Zeke was gone.

There was no sign of his body, only the fluid that had given it life splashed all over the sand, and a spotless Riddick, standing on the opposite end of the hole.

Taking all of this in at once, she nearly jumped at Shazza’s enraged snarl.

‘Her mate. She thinks he killed her mate.’

Now THAT was not a safe predicament for ANYONE involved…

Riddick made a break for it, and Al only paused to make sure Shazza was sufficiently restrained by Cyn before following.

She knew the others were coming this way, most likely sped up by Shazza’s screaming, and Johns would take any opportunity to recapture Riddick.

If her plan was to work, though, Riddick couldn’t be chained up.

Being so small and lightweight, it was easy to catch up despite the head start, and she skidded to a halt when Johns got in a lucky blow.

The merc was quick to rip off Riddick’s goggles, causing him to fall down in pain before Johns kicked the convict in the ribs.

Al was there the next moment, putting herself in-between them and resisting the urge to kick someone between the legs.

Preferably Johns.

“That’s ENOUGH.”

Instead of backing down, which Al hadn’t been expecting anyway, Johns practically snarled and shoved her hard.

Falling back without trying to catch herself or strike back, she landed against Riddick’s chest, feeling him tense at her unexpected weight.

“What are you gonna do about it, pipsqueak?”

Eyes narrowing behind her visor, Al covered Riddick’s ears with her hands and smirked.

“THIS.”

Letting out a distress-screech, she went still as, only a moment later, Cyn tackled Johns right off his feet.

“Huh…That was faster than I expected.”

Pleased with the outcome, Al reached for the goggles Johns had dropped and shook the sand off before putting them over Riddick’s closed eyes.

“Better?”

A low growl came from him then, and Al would have analyzed it more closely if Cyn didn’t have her teeth on Johns’ throat.

“Cyn.”

The cat-girl went still, not moving an inch, only lifting her eyes to Al’s blank visor.

But she knew what that look was, it was the ‘you should know better’ look, and Cyn had always hated it.

Her jaw muscle twitched, and Al’s voice was like steel now.

“CYN.”

Catching the undertone, the ‘not yet’ hidden away, she reluctantly released her prey.

Looking over her shoulder as the others ran up, Cyn wondered if any of them would mourn over Johns’ death…