"Fiona!"

She looked over her shoulder at Johns, a raised brow hidden behind her shades. He stalked forward, watching the red light blink, a signal from a beacon nearby. A washed away long forgotten planet sat in front of them, dried to the bone. They had been moving forward quickly since they picked up Fiona. Three bounties between Helion Prime and here, but the end destination was always her coordinates. She still had no name, no understanding of why Bryan would send her out here, but Johns seemed to know to whom they were heading.

"Is this it?" He pushed down on the receiver, watching as the broadcast came in thick and covered in static. "Must be storms down there." The message came in clear this time, words slamming across the screen frantically. Fiona glanced at the text, watching a hazy figure shroud in green light appear with a name just below.

Richard B. Riddick

"Yes. These are the coordinates."

"Strap in, we're landing."

Fiona picked herself up and moved from the pilot's chair. She moved gracefully around Moss, Dahl, and Lockspur, minding her limbs, making sure to not touch a single inch of any of them.

The last three months had left them all confused. Fiona didn't say much, and if she did speak it was to Johns mainly. She had developed a strange relationship with Dahl though, after a bar fight that went array. A man had tried to feel Fiona up and without much though she flipped him, straddled him, and beat him within inches of his life. Dahl had to pull her off, and Fiona had figured in that moment that her free rides would be cut off, Johns would leave her there and forget about her.

But the blonde fought for her. She shook out the tension in her muscles, told her she had done good, and reassured her that she would be fine. They didn't speak of it, but Fiona could feel the eyes on her. Moss kept his distance, Lockspur kept his distance; even Johns had a fear in everything that he did. Fiona couldn't explain it, she couldn't very well understand it either, but when Dahl had pulled her off that body she had caught a glimpse of her reflection.

An animal.

Fiona took the only seat available, the back of the ship, the cargo hold, the seat where they placed their bounties. She had felt a little odd the first time she had taken a seat in the chair, the first time she had reached down and closed the ankle shackles around herself. But there was an odd comfort in all of it, being in the center, being able to watch everyone on the ship.

They didn't pay much attention to her, but she was oddly proud to say they protected her when in public. They never left her to fend on her own, and even though she couldn't explain to them anything period, they had her back.

She looked away from them, her brows closing together as she concentrated on her hands in her lap. Bryan. She missed him, she desired him. He was the only person she had met in her time alive that she could feel comfortable around. He never questioned her from the first time she had opened her eyes in that cold dark room. He never questioned her need to fight, to struggle with him, to flee. He only embraced it and informed her that it just couldn't be.

Aereon had visited her two weeks after her arrival on what Bryan called her "new prison". The woman had floated in on air, spoke to her as if they knew each other, and reassured her that she would do great. Fiona didn't know what to say, her arms and legs shackled to a large oak chair in the middle of what was classified as her room. She had been violent the first couple of weeks, to herself and to others. She didn't know how to control what was inside of her then.

She glanced up at the sand world that came into view through the front window. The planet was sunny, desolate. Its presence sent a signal to her brain and a memory tried to fly up, tried to display in her mind something she had experienced before. She instantly could feel the heat, smell the sand and the sweat, hear the distant cries. But the triggers never worked and she felt the milky haze hold onto the thought and cloud it. It all vanished just as quickly as it had come.

You'll remember when you're ready.

"We'll be dropping in five. Looks like there's another crew down there already." Johns mumbled more to himself, but the others listened for his command. "We can handle some blood mercs. Lets do this."

Fiona had learned in her short stint of traveling with this group that some mercenaries were in this line of work not just for the money gain but because the military deemed this as a war against humanity. Criminals were running rampant around the entire known galaxy, and hiring the proactive militia had become a government initiative. When Johns swiveled and looked at his crew his eyes hit Fiona and he stared. She refused to wear their uniform; rather she kept the "rags" on her skin. Johns joked with her every now and then, but she preferred to blend in rather than stick out.

They all wore all black, matching pistols, matching guns, and matching shoes. They each had a different style of plating on their bodies as extra protection but the texture and patterns were all identical. A single unit of power and civility, they struck Fiona as an odd set of mercenaries. What Bryan had expressed to her about their "kind" was something different, so her confidence and comfort in this group had grown more than she thought it would. She was shrouded of course by her comfort with these people but it was an end to a means and she wouldn't leave them just yet.

The truth was she didn't know where to go or what to do. She didn't even know who she was let alone what the world had to offer. Bryan had merely given her coordinates; to follow them seemed to be the right direction.

"Lets greet the peons."

The hunk of metal touched the ground and the other crewmembers did not hesitate climbing out of their seats. Fiona hesitated, waiting as Dahl dropped the hatch. The outside air crawled into the ship and it filled her nostrils. Warmth, dirt, sweat, blood. She breathed it in and closed her eyes, leaning her head back in the chair, a small smile on her face.

"Looking quite comfortable in that chair."

Who knows maybe it was a part of my past.

She didn't say anything to Moss. She accepted his hand and let him pull her out of the chair. She let him lean in and support her. He was a good man, and his smile told her he would always remain as such.

Her feet crunched on the dirt as she joined the other three, keeping to the back. The group in front of them was massive, bodies coming in from the right that would have remained unseen beforehand. The man in front was small compared to the majority of his comrades, but his smile deemed him in charge. They were primitive in dress, and Fiona felt an odd twinge as she looked more their style than the group she was with.

"Like I was saying, I got this." His accent was thick, and unmissed, his tongue rolling over syllables with lethargic grace.

"You knew who that was right?" Johns glanced at the men forming in around them. Lockspur dropped the cargo he was holding, all eyes bouncing around at one another. The tension built as they all focused on each other's guns, figuring out in their minds who was bigger, better, badder. Fiona preyed she remained unnoticed, unwatched, unfathomable. She wasn't packing, and every time John's offered her a gun she denied him.

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't." The other merc captain's crew chuckled along side him. The laughter rippled and a few didn't join in, but the chuckles still cut.

Fiona kept herself inline with Johns, eyes bouncing around the main faces in front of her from behind the shades. The boy in the back sparked her interest, a cross around his neck, the chain catching in the sun. She heard the faint clatter of beads in her head and she instinctively looked for the source off to the right. But there wasn't one, and she knew there wouldn't be.

"The concept of backup, still has no appeal to you?"

"My bestest here can ball with anyone." The primitive merc eyed up John's crew, an impish smile on his face. "No disrespect for your crew of course, who look strong too in those matchy matchy outfits." His joke sent another roll of snickers through his crew, and the giant man on his back left made a snide comment about dress code.

Johns smiled. Fiona watched Dahl's side as she shrugged her armor around and crossed her arms. Her hip popped and the men looked, the blondes eyes never leaving the crew captain in front of them. Fiona couldn't help but smile, already knowing that her blonde friend there had her eyes set on murder, and the tiny joking man was going to feel it. Every second of it.

"It's not my intention to jump another mans claim, if you don't mind maybe we'll just pull up a chair and spectate for a while." Johns moved forward, his crew keeping themselves immobile. Fiona felt instantly naked, her block from view pushing in towards the station. The boy with the cross around his neck had his eyes locked on her, and she shifted her gaze away from him.

The impassive short man stepped into Johns' directional path, putting a hand out to stop the military mercenary captain from continuing into the station. "What if I do?"

"Well this is a co-op station and it is open to all Mercs. By the way my name is –"

"Too late." His smile never seemed to vanish from his face but it did grow. He was proud of himself for that joke, his right hand man chuckling. "That's your name. Too late. And I need you to step away from my HQ my friend."

"Well I'll tell you what, I won't lift a finger until you come ask me for it, how's that?" And with that Johns walked around him and let himself in. Dhal seemed to hesitate, her eyes lingering after Johns who had vanished inside the building in front of them. When Moss lifted his cargo box Fiona followed directly behind him, taking one of the smaller boxes for him. She didn't make eye contact, keeping her gaze forward and covered. The rest quickly followed and the cool dim light inside gave them a much-needed break from the sun.

Johns and Dahl picked one side of the working station. They moved two metal tables together and sat the crates of supplies down on one. Fiona found herself helping Moss take out the weapons he pointed out. He was meticulous about what he wanted to show to the other crew, and when her fingers graced something he wasn't ready to take out he'd give her a simple no.

"Fiona." She perked up when Johns called for her. A small nod to Moss and she dismissed herself, joining Dahl at the table with her captain.

"Yeah?"

"Were you aware of who these coordinates were sending us to?" His voice was low, his eyes dodging between the two women in front of him, and the other crew that was making a point of sitting and staring on the other side of the room.

"Nope." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, finding herself instantly feeling as though she was five. She didn't want to ask, because she knew she should already know. Everyone there seemed to know, and maybe it was insane to think it was common knowledge, because of course she wasn't aware of much of the world save for the five years she had experienced, but she felt like she should know. "Who is Riddick?"

"He's the man that killed my son." Johns cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes leveling with Fiona's. She was thankful for the shades, and she was thankful that they understood. "I've been looking for him to have a little chat."

"Is that it?"

"Not entirely." His sigh spoke more than his words. She waited for him to continue. He was, in that moment, not telling her something. She furrowed her brows, crossed her own arms, and stared at him patiently. But he didn't speak. His hands swiped over the hologram map and he pointed out a tunnel structure 5 clicks south. When he dismissed Dahl to retrieve a nod from the ship Fiona felt a sudden surge of power.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Excuse me?" He once again crossed his arms.

"You're keeping something from me, what is it?"

"I suppose when you remember you'll find out." He walked away.

Fiona felt the anger build up inside her. With fire on her heels and fists balled up she escorted herself outside quickly. She was hot on Dahl's heels, her weight carrying her across the hot desert landscape. She didn't follow the woman into the ship; rather she walked around the edge, hiding just on the north side where no one could see her. She unballed her fists quickly and pulled at the cloth that was wrapped around her head. Her face could finally feel the soft air that flitted across the hot summer climate. She closed her eyes and pulled down the sunglasses, breathing in slowly as she tried to steady her heartbeat.

From where she stood she could hear Dhal muttering inside about the atrocious man named Santana. She could hear the footsteps of the other crew's men as they wandered around the settlement. She could hear the heartbeat of the young boy with the cross; hear the mutters of his prayers. And in the distance she could hear the patter of four feet hitting the ground in a repetitive manner.

"Fiona." Dahl pulled her from the moment. She turned abruptly and stared at the blonde woman who stood just at the end of the ship, a soft smile on her lips. "You coming?"