Disclaimer: I do not hold the copy right to Buffy the Vampire Slayer™, Angel:the Series™, or The Chronicles of Riddick™ nor do I claim to. All characters belong to their original creators, networks, and subsidaries. I make no profit from the making or sharing of this fanfiction.
A/N: This story was inspired byThe Chronicles of Riddick: The Underverse
by aewnaur and permission to use the idea was asked for and granted before writing began.
“I want to talk to Vaako.” Richard B. Riddick had only held the throne of the Necromongers for a few days, and already it was irritating. He was about ready to beat a quick get-away, but he knew they would search for him. It was time to use his brain a bit, memories of his conversation with Aereon floating through his mind.“You are destined to stop the Necromongers, you know. I can think of only two ways for you to do it, and only one has even the slightest possibility of succeeding.”
Riddick grunted at the ethereal elemental, waiting for her to say what she came here to say. She was damned annoying, but useful at the same time. She let him know the probabilities and then he tried to prove her wrong. Usually he succeeded. Like yesterday with that upstart Necro Lieutenant... The look on her face had been priceless.
“You can either attempt to kill each and every Necromonger, which has a one in 5.23 x 10^14 chance of success, or we can send you through time to the period before the Necromongers, to a place where you can stop it from ever happening. It would create an alternate time-plane, rather than a different time-line. The mathematics involved to understand that are far beyond your comprehension, but suffice to say, you will be stuck in the past and you will be the only one to know your-past-that-could-be-their-future. This has a 3.12 x 10^7 chance of success.”
“Ooo... goody. I like those odds.” Riddick just looked at her. She had calculated the odds of his choice long before she even told him about them. She knew which option he was picking.
“I’ll contact the others, I’ll need help to do this.”
Vaako arrived in the Main Audience Hall within moments. “You summoned me, my Lord Marshal.” He went to one knee before Riddick and bowed his head slightly. It irked him that his wife's wonderful idea had failed due to this man, but he showed the proper respect, as was expected.
“Everyone else, beat it.” All the attendants left, leaving the two men alone. Riddick could sense people listening, he gestured Vaako to silence and to follow him. Riddick took him to the rooms he had occupied since he became the Lord Marshal. Traditionally, the only ones allowed inside the private chambers of the Lord Marshal were his lovers, and Vaako felt a frisson of trepidation at the prospect. He would gain respect and standing, but his tastes lay with his wife.
“I should go on the traditional pilgrimage to the Underverse and while I am gone, you will take my place.” Riddick spoke in his gravelly voice, outlining his plan to the Necromonger.
“I am honoured, my Lord. What is the price I must pay? You cannot mean to simply give me this?” Vaako kept his eyes on the Riddick’s boots, fearing the answer he was about to get. Riddick raised an eyebrow at the other man, unaware of the stigma about those brought to the Lord Marshal’s rooms.
“Get your wife a new dress.” Vaako looked up, utterly surprised.
“As you wish, Lord Marshal.” He left quickly, knowing that he was observed the moment he closed the door behind himself, hurrying to his wife’s side to give her the news. He knew she would be excited. He was right.
“I heard the Lord Marshal took you to his chamber, Vaako. This is excellent news, if it is true. Is it?” He nodded, and she saw it in her mirror while touching up her make-up. “You are second only to him now! Oh tell me, what did he have you do?”
“It is not what you think. He did not take me as a... bed-mate. He wanted privacy to tell me of something, an important plan of his. I may soon be the Lord Marshal's Regent Commander.” He was slightly in shock, with his close scrape with homosexual sex and his pending position. His wife squealed and flung herself into his arms, hungrily kissing him, devouring his mouth.
“Even better. Oh, lets celebrate!” She tore his clothes off, her nails leaving shallow cuts and long scrapes on his back and arms. He came back to himself and ripped her dress right off, biting and nipping at her neck and shoulders, picking her up and slamming her against a wall, pressing his body tightly to hers. “What was the price for this?” She gasped, her nipple in his mouth, teeth digging in around it.
He drew back with a wet 'pop'. “He told me to get you a new dress.” She looked at him strangely but was soon lost in the violent pleasure her husband gave her, blood and bruises decorating her body. The two of them didn't come out of their apartments until the next day, summoned by the Lord Marshal to put his plan in action.