Green Eyes
Chapter 2: The Hunter-Gratzner
“Expecting a riot to break out?”
Spot only grunted, his way of saying ‘stop being a smartass and walk’, but I decided to ignore him.
I haven’t been out in a while, so sue me for wanting to have some fun.
The nine guards surrounding me were in full armor, like soldiers, with gauges and electric batons, not to mention standard-issue hunting knives and tear gas.
Spot was the only experienced one of the lot; the others were fresh meat, barely old enough to be out of training for the weapons they were carrying.
Even being outnumbered ten-to-one, I doubted it would be much of a fight.
“Oh, come on.” I whined, sidling up to the guard nearest Spot with a pout. “I promised to play nice…”
“Back up and shut up.” Spot shot back, waving his baton at me so I stepped away from the sweating newbie on his left.
The guy was so jittery, he didn’t even notice me slip the knife from his belt and hide it in the waistband of my jeans.
Too easy.
“Alright, alright. Let’s not get our panties in a twist.” I teased, holding my hands up in mock-surrender. “Just trying to make conversation here.”
“Just get on the ship.” Spot ordered, giving me a pointed look before going up the ramp himself.
The Hunter-Gratzner was a pretty big transport ship, if a bit old and clunky, but the hallways inside were a little cramped for my tastes.
My skin prickled as I passed the threshold, the muscles all along my back tensing and shifting in reaction to the enclosed space.
A myriad of scents entered my nose as I followed Spot further in, passing occupied cryo tubes on both sides.
Most of them were civilians, about forty of them, taking the back roads because it was cheaper than the more traveled routes.
That the back ways are also more discreet is just a bonus, really.
Fiddling with the end of my long braid out of feigned boredom, I took in the grating overhead, the space between pipes and the beams crossing horizontally just below them.
Perfect place to hide, if you could get up there.
Spot went ahead a few feet to mess with the two cryo tubes on the right, the only empty ones left, and the shaky guards aimed their gauges at my head as his attention turned away.
“Chill, guys.” I assured them, a fanged smile taking shape on my face. “I promised to be good. Don’t you trust me?”
The safeties all clicked off, and I rolled my eyes good-naturedly.
“Well, it’s not my fault you have trust issues…”
Much.
“Just get in.” Spot commanded, visibly irritated with me. “And shut up while you’re at it.”
“Jeez, you try to lighten the mood…”
My gaze slid away from the cryo tube as I approached it, already feeling the painful twist of the muscles in my shoulder-blades out of knee-jerk anxiety, and landed on the occupied pod across from mine.
‘Lockout Protocol: No Early Release’ was emblazoned on the front, a warning, and I could see why.
I mean, I’m used to feeling small, but this guy made me feel about as big as a Chihuahua.
Must have been six feet tall when standing up, all muscle and sun-dark skin, and damn handsome behind the blindfold and horse-bit, in my opinion.
Intrigued, I scented the air more closely, pupils blowing wide.
He smelled different than what I‘m used to-sweat and copper and musk, like blood and sex, like a predator-, and the cat in me perked up.
What was a guy like him doing on a transport shuttle?
A quick scan revealed his jailer, a blonde man with a badge that seemed to say ‘Hey, I’m a cop, trust me!’
But the sickly aroma of morphine that surrounded the guy around like a ghost told me he wasn’t anything close to an officer, and that put a little knot in my plans.
“Get in before I make you.” Spot demanded, brandishing his electric baton in threat.
Jerking out of my thoughts, I could have sworn I saw a flash of reflected light through the convict’s blindfold as I turned back around with a smile.
“Oh, no need to get sweet on me. I’ll get in.”
Hopping over the raised threshold, I settled in best I could, ignoring the familiar itch all over as Spot went about strapping me down.
“Remember, you behave, and I won’t have to get the collar.”
“I’m being good.” I reassured, going completely lax to prove my point.
He gave me a sour look before ordering the other guards to disembark and getting in his own cryo tube, both of which closed with a hiss.
As the drugs dulled my senses and lulled me to sleep, my gaze blurred on the convict’s face, something niggling at the back of my mind.
Could have sworn…
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Strange girl…
Riddick studied her through the gap in his blindfold, pretending for the moment that he was deep in cryo.
Roughly twenty years old, five feet even, with a loose black braid trailing down past her pert little ass.
Her eyes fell to half-mast, a shimmer of green visible even through the eye-shine, and Riddick smirked around the bit in his mouth as her guard fell immediately into cryo-sleep.
Interesting…
Spot only grunted, his way of saying ‘stop being a smartass and walk’, but I decided to ignore him.
I haven’t been out in a while, so sue me for wanting to have some fun.
The nine guards surrounding me were in full armor, like soldiers, with gauges and electric batons, not to mention standard-issue hunting knives and tear gas.
Spot was the only experienced one of the lot; the others were fresh meat, barely old enough to be out of training for the weapons they were carrying.
Even being outnumbered ten-to-one, I doubted it would be much of a fight.
“Oh, come on.” I whined, sidling up to the guard nearest Spot with a pout. “I promised to play nice…”
“Back up and shut up.” Spot shot back, waving his baton at me so I stepped away from the sweating newbie on his left.
The guy was so jittery, he didn’t even notice me slip the knife from his belt and hide it in the waistband of my jeans.
Too easy.
“Alright, alright. Let’s not get our panties in a twist.” I teased, holding my hands up in mock-surrender. “Just trying to make conversation here.”
“Just get on the ship.” Spot ordered, giving me a pointed look before going up the ramp himself.
The Hunter-Gratzner was a pretty big transport ship, if a bit old and clunky, but the hallways inside were a little cramped for my tastes.
My skin prickled as I passed the threshold, the muscles all along my back tensing and shifting in reaction to the enclosed space.
A myriad of scents entered my nose as I followed Spot further in, passing occupied cryo tubes on both sides.
Most of them were civilians, about forty of them, taking the back roads because it was cheaper than the more traveled routes.
That the back ways are also more discreet is just a bonus, really.
Fiddling with the end of my long braid out of feigned boredom, I took in the grating overhead, the space between pipes and the beams crossing horizontally just below them.
Perfect place to hide, if you could get up there.
Spot went ahead a few feet to mess with the two cryo tubes on the right, the only empty ones left, and the shaky guards aimed their gauges at my head as his attention turned away.
“Chill, guys.” I assured them, a fanged smile taking shape on my face. “I promised to be good. Don’t you trust me?”
The safeties all clicked off, and I rolled my eyes good-naturedly.
“Well, it’s not my fault you have trust issues…”
Much.
“Just get in.” Spot commanded, visibly irritated with me. “And shut up while you’re at it.”
“Jeez, you try to lighten the mood…”
My gaze slid away from the cryo tube as I approached it, already feeling the painful twist of the muscles in my shoulder-blades out of knee-jerk anxiety, and landed on the occupied pod across from mine.
‘Lockout Protocol: No Early Release’ was emblazoned on the front, a warning, and I could see why.
I mean, I’m used to feeling small, but this guy made me feel about as big as a Chihuahua.
Must have been six feet tall when standing up, all muscle and sun-dark skin, and damn handsome behind the blindfold and horse-bit, in my opinion.
Intrigued, I scented the air more closely, pupils blowing wide.
He smelled different than what I‘m used to-sweat and copper and musk, like blood and sex, like a predator-, and the cat in me perked up.
What was a guy like him doing on a transport shuttle?
A quick scan revealed his jailer, a blonde man with a badge that seemed to say ‘Hey, I’m a cop, trust me!’
But the sickly aroma of morphine that surrounded the guy around like a ghost told me he wasn’t anything close to an officer, and that put a little knot in my plans.
“Get in before I make you.” Spot demanded, brandishing his electric baton in threat.
Jerking out of my thoughts, I could have sworn I saw a flash of reflected light through the convict’s blindfold as I turned back around with a smile.
“Oh, no need to get sweet on me. I’ll get in.”
Hopping over the raised threshold, I settled in best I could, ignoring the familiar itch all over as Spot went about strapping me down.
“Remember, you behave, and I won’t have to get the collar.”
“I’m being good.” I reassured, going completely lax to prove my point.
He gave me a sour look before ordering the other guards to disembark and getting in his own cryo tube, both of which closed with a hiss.
As the drugs dulled my senses and lulled me to sleep, my gaze blurred on the convict’s face, something niggling at the back of my mind.
Could have sworn…
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Strange girl…
Riddick studied her through the gap in his blindfold, pretending for the moment that he was deep in cryo.
Roughly twenty years old, five feet even, with a loose black braid trailing down past her pert little ass.
Her eyes fell to half-mast, a shimmer of green visible even through the eye-shine, and Riddick smirked around the bit in his mouth as her guard fell immediately into cryo-sleep.
Interesting…