SAME FACE, DOFFERENT DAY

The alley beside Club Neutrino

"Now." Rico began, reeling on Ginger. "Where the fuck were we?"

Approaching Ginger like a stalking predator going after its cornered prey, Rico's twisted grin filled the crowd with the belief he had finally, after all the long years of trying and groping bullshit rejections, gotten her under his thumb.

"My kid was sick," he thought out loud, legs stopping mid-stride, mouth opening as an exploding specter of anger blowtorched his reddening features. "You bitch." he blurted loud enough to make one woman in the swaying crowd jump back with a shriek.

Ginger had told him something inadvertently. Or had she? After all, she had played him before. At the moment, he swore that arrogant goddamn smirk was there, mocking him. 'We'll see about that,' he thought.

"Bitch, I called you a hundred fucking times," he blared, taking a step closer as if preparing to pounce. He pointed at the shorter bodyguard. "I sent Michaelson to your house. You never answered the door."

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping back, the look of fear gripping her face. She stumbled, faltered on her heels, and barely caught herself before landing on her backside.

The goons at the entrance laughed at her off kilter dance.

There it is, he thought, eyes taking in her perfect face, that you stupid little man smile taunting me. He looked around the crowd wondering,, 'Why can't anyone else see it. Look, you goddamn bitches, It's right fucking there.' He wanted to scream at the wide-eyed women as if they were oblivious idiots. But peering into their eyes it quickly became obvious, none of them could see anything other than her fear. And, as a final certainty washed over him, he knew she had been fucking with him since day one. Suddenly, his burning suspicions drew anger from his shriveled heart like a rotting infection oozes gobs of putrescence from an unclean wound. To her, his anger stank of fear. A fear that gave away his true character. The kind that showed he was afraid of all women; and that he was afraid of her.

"I'm sorry," Rico said in a mocking tone. "And now, I'm learning you were at home the whole time. Just sitting there listening to the phone ring; listening to someone knock on the door; just so you could... babysit your sick brat."

He pulled back his right fist, readying to punch, unaware of the brick tumbling through the air. It struck its target and the light pole across the street exploded in a ball of white fiery sparks that descended like falling stars in the damp night air. The embers fizzled out on the wet pavement as a group of passersby jumped to the side.

Rico jerked around in shock and yelled down the alley at the group of wiry boys across the street, "I just had that light replaced you little bastards!"

The group of dirty youths ran off towards the zone long before Rico could motion for his clumsy goons to get them. The lumbering giants had little chance of catching the far more agile group.

"Fucking amateurs." Riddick said to himself, dropping the brick in his other hand. The one meant for the back of Rico's head.

"What's his problem?" the shorter bodyguard asked, leaning closer to ensure no one heard his covert query for information.

"Little fucker's afraid of the dark."

"No shit?"

"No shit," The taller guard chuckled. "I'm amazed he's even out here."

"Afraid of the dark." the doorman repeated in a voice filled with amusement. "It's always dark."

The other bodyguard chuckled and said, "Sucks to be him."

"You think."

"Jameson told me, Rico's mother used to lock him in their cellar when he was a kid. Little fucker huddled in a corner, screaming as the giant rats scurried by hissing in the dark."

"I wondered why I've never seen him treat the girls' right. I thought he didn't like women. Now I see the little pussy hates them."

"Especially his mother."

"I thought they were tight?" the stout doorman asked. "Didn't she give him the club?"

"Sure." The taller bodyguard explained. "She even bought his license and keeps the counsel out of his biz?"

"Like I said."

"No way." The lanky bodyguard laughed to himself. "The bitch is a control freak. Rico's mommy wanted junior to uphold the family name and when junior refused, mommy threatened to cut him off. As I hear it, he wanted to be an architect."

"Seriously, the prince of pussy… an architect?" He looked at his companion. "That's rich."

"Too bad for him. Mommy thought it would be best if her baby boy stayed home and ran the family business. You know, drugs... gambling... prostitution. Just the life every mother wants for her child."

Riddick shook his head at the two buffoons imagining bouncing their heads together and asked himself, "Why me?"

"Because you're a hero, Riddick." A voice drifted from around the corner.

The voice from his past brought with it an instantaneous flood of childhood images. The orphanage, the Reverend Mother, the old friend and... Breanna. He heard a familiar voice somewhere in the hooker's tone and knew why he cared what happened to Ginger. She sounded like Breanna.

Riddick didn't turn. He recognized the voice and afforded it the respect deserved an old friend. "I blame you for this, Martin." He replied, waiting for the voice to reveal itself.

A giant man wearing battered Company Ranger armor rounded the corner and stopped at a safe distance. They had been best friends, comrades in arms and even brothers. But the giant kept his distance, giving Riddick the opportunity to take him in. Martin looked like too much muscle stuffed into a child's suit of armor, and Riddick may have laughed if it weren't for the situation.

"How so?" Martin replied after the awkward moment passed without incident.

Riddick looked over his shoulder, noticed the N7 badge on his old friend's right breastplate and replied, "If you were here three 3 days ago, I wouldn't be here now."

"I needed to take care of a few last-minute details before leaving, Sigma 3." Martin replied, looking over Riddick's shoulder at the scene unfolding by the rear entrance. "And, for the record. You can walk away." he replied, stressing the word can.

"Not this time," Riddick replied, thinking about Ginger's voice. "Something is different."

"Like?"

Riddick gestured to the roof over their heads. "Your team?"

Martin scanned the ledges for signs of movement, his tightened eyelids squeezed into narrow slits as he strained to focus on the ledges high overhead. "If there is someone up there, they're not mine." he replied, shaking his head in doubt. Martin looked to Riddick with an annoyed sneer. "The brass sent my ship one way and me another."

In his youth, Riddick had been a highly decorated Company Ranger and a team leader himself. So, he was well aware of mission procedures. "Bullshit, That's not protocol. No one gives up command to go it alone."

"I'm not alone." he replied, with an uneasy grimace. "I'm not that lucky."

"Trouble in paradise?"

Martin's left eyebrow rose, pulling the corner of his mouth into a sarcastic smirk that released a gravelly laugh. "Protocols ended the moment your message hit my doorstep." Martin studied Riddick's face, thinking about impenetrable security. "A doorstep inside the most highly fortified compound in the Universe. Care to explain that minor feat?"

Riddick smiled and said nothing.

Martin reached in his breast pocket, took out an audio message and a voice said, "I need help. Have this blade analyzed and meet me in your old neighborhood. Come alone. Bring answers." Martin tossed the recording in the dumpster and said, "This is what coming alone looks like." Martin gestured around at nothing, wearing an annoyed expression. "Sorry if you were expecting something else."

Riddick reeled on him, preparing to seize Martin, but stopped when he saw Martin's expression change. Martin stared over his shoulder, mouth agape in utter shock as peering at a ghost.

"What?"

Martin stepped around him, walked towards the street as if he were a piece of steel being drawn towards a powerful magnet. Riddick grabbed his armor, hauled him back behind the dumpster just before Martin emerged from the shadows. He shook him and asked, "What the hell are you doing? You don't break cover. You don't give away a concealed position."

Martin stared straight through him, his mind caught in the whirlwind of forgotten memories swirling in front of his eyes. He tried to get a better look, but Riddick held him fast.

"Let me go. That's... that's my mom." He stammered.

"Excuse me," Riddick replied, pausing as if he hadn't heard Martin correctly. "What did you say?"

"I said," he began, shoving Riddick off. "She's... she's my mom." Martin heard the words falling out of his mouth. But couldn't stop them. He knew it was impossible, His mother was dead. She died 30 years earlier. Martin's mind filled with a sense of loss.

Riddick slammed Martin against the brick corner again, jammed his dagger against his thick throat, studying his face for signs of deceit. "What's your game? Where's your team? I know you didn't come here alone." Riddick demanded. "And what's this horseshit about your mom? You told me she died in the zone when you were 10. You told me that's why they sent you to the orphanage. Or was that a lie too?"

"I didn't lie. A Dyna Corp detective told me they found her body over on..." Martin had forgotten his past; forgotten his mother's death; forgotten everything. He hadn't thought of her since he was a boy. All the memories of his childhood were flooding back, and he didn't like them, or want them. "317 Cortland Ave." he remember aloud, as if the words were a rancid memory being drawn from a long empty void.

"Exactly, so how can that hooker be your dead mom?" Riddick asked, shaking him as if trying to rouse him from a nightmare. "What did those butchers on Sigma 3, do to you?"

Neither the impact with the wall nor the blade against his throat pulled him from his dream-state. Martin stood there, eyes pleading for an explanation.

Riddick lowered his weapon, staring at him as if he had gone insane. "What's wrong with you? You come here spouting nonsense. Did the company's N7 cocktail turn your brain to mush?"

"No one shot me up with that shit." Martin replied.

"Bullshit." Riddick countered, slapping the N7 badge on his chest. "Everyone wearing this badge gets the juice."

Martin shoved him back. "Not me."

"What makes you so special?"

"You know an awful lot about top secret Company programs, don't you." Martin said, coming out of his reverie.

"I keep my ears open. Besides," Riddick said, offering a dark smile. "You never know when the opportunity for a little payback may present itself."

"Seriously." Martin said, grimace spreading across his face. He had seen the results of Riddick's past exploits into the realm of payback, and added, "You didn't get your fill of that sort of thing after you escaped Deep Storage? After you went back to Sigma 3 and slaughtered them all."

"They brought that on themselves." Riddick raged, as the thought of Breanna's death. Mercifully, he hadn't thought of her in decades. And now, here came Martin, conjuring all the childhood memories of his sister and the bittersweet memories that threatened to burn Riddick alive.

Martin shook his head and said, "The Rangers didn't take her from you."

"Then we have differing ideas of what happened!"

"No." Martin protested. "There's a much darker plan at work here and it started long before Sigma 3. Long before Saint Mary's."

"Are you losing it?" he replied, the tone in his voice almost begging for Martin to drop it.

"Listen," Martin continued, staring around at the bright lights and gaudy Marquette. "I'll tell you everything I know about the injections and what happened to you, if you tell me, why you choose this place? Why here?"

"I needed somewhere no one would follow us." Riddick explained, "Someplace where I knew you could find me." He gestured around. "A place where w could talk without distraction."

"And this is your idea of without distraction," Martin countered, gesturing at the filled streets and angry pimp in the distance. "You brought me to a world filled with the ghosts of my past, expecting what exactly? A tearful reunion; maybe you wanted an excuse to shiv my ass because you still blame me for what they did to you. For what they did to... Bree." The last word drawn out and seldom spoken aloud caused them both pain.

"I never blamed you for what happened." Riddick said, shaking his head at him. "That's on me. I was at fault."

"No, you were a good husband, a decent friend..." Martin put his hand on Riddick's chest. "and an honorable man."

"Only because of her." Riddick admitted.

"Perhaps," he admitted, "Bree had a way of making us all better."

"And look at us now."

"Yeah… look at us now."

Riddick didn't want to talk or think about happier times. The happiness they brought only made the emptiness worse. He missed her. He always had and always would. Their lives had gone to shit because of what he did on Sigma 3. He hadn't been the one who killed her. The Rangers did that; his very own brothers in arms. But her death was his fault.

Martin moved him to one side, trying to get a better look at Ginger. He shook his head as if trying to clear away the heavy layer of fog clouding his mind. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry too."

"What's wrong?" Riddick asked, staring at Martin's furrowed expression.

"This place is wrong."

Riddick nodded, "Copy that."

"This will sound nuts."

Riddick laughed and said, "More than anything else has tonight?"

"We're not here because you chose this place. I think we're here because someone else did."

Riddick rolled his eyes and grimaced. "You're right, that's nuts."

"Did you feel drawn to this place? Are you at home here; safe here?"

"I don't know," Riddick replied, his expression becoming worrisome. "I suppose so, why?"

Martin pointed to the unfolding scene, his eyes fixed on the dark-haired hooker like two opalescent screens flashing the images of a woman long forgotten. "Because I can't shake the feeling she's my mom." He looked to Riddick and added, "And I don't mean she just looks like my mom. I'm telling you... That woman is my dead mother."

"She was a hooker?"

"No!" he said, jabbing him in the shoulder as if they were kids again. "She was a secretary."

"That's my point." Riddick replied, gesturing at Ginger. "She's no secretary."

"Definitely not a secretary."

"Because brother... if she is a secretary, I wanna work in that office."

"Pervert," Martin replied, his expression signaling the topic was closed. "And what about you, have you seen anything strange since you arrived?"

"Stranger than a hooker I watched die on M6-117?"

"Wait... What?" Martin replied as if he hadn't heard Riddick correctly. "You saw my mom... I mean, you saw her die and you're giving me shit about being crazy."

"It's not possible." Riddick said, staring at Ginger over the shoulders of the 2 cackling doormen. "She's just some random hooker."

Martin laughed and said, "If you say that enough times, maybe you'll start believing it."

"I know it's not possible. But I'm certain she's..."

"Dead." Martin finished.

"Definitely," he said, thinking nothing made sense anymore. Riddick was certain Ginger was Shazza Montgomery, even though he knew that was no more likely than her being Martin's long dead mother. "Ginger," Riddick said, pointing to the center of the city. "Isn't the only out-of-place-person I've seen."

"Right," Martin agreed, "I've seen other people who look..."

"Out of place."

"Out of time." Martin replied. "I haven't been here since I was 10, and yet..."

"What?"

"This place is exactly like it was when I was a kid. So are the people."

"Why not? It should feel familiar," Riddick said to himself, looking around at the lights and drinking of déjà vu.

"No." Martin cut in. "It's the same."

"I get it." Riddick added. "It's like I've been here a hundred times before. But I haven't."

"I told you. Something weird is going on."

Riddick gestured towards the west end of the city. "There's an old guy hanging around the corner on Boylston St. I could swear he's the guy I met in the sewers under Butcher Bay. In fact. I'm sure it's him."

"Is it just me?" Martin said with a raised brow. "Or are the old faces back again?"

"It feels like something's watching me through their eyes." Riddick said, sensing a dark entity lurking in the shadows. He knew there were people here that didn't belong.

"You never spoke of this place when we were kids; you only told me your mom died here."

"I said little, because I couldn't remember much." Martin answered, still staring off toward Boylston St. "It was like that life never happened." He scratched his head. "I think something happened back then. Until recently, those memories were missing."

"How recent?"

"When I stepped off the transport, it all started flooding back. It feels like it's happening right now." He gestured at Ginger like she was a long-lost friend. "Even her. I even forgot her. What kind of shit kid forgets his mom? I mean she died and I couldn't even remember her face, her smile or even where we lived." He turned to the horizon and Riddick knew where he was looking.

Riddick reached out, squeezed Martin's shoulder. "Brother, she's not your mom," He gestured to the dark area behind a chain-link fence marked, 'Quarantine Zone.' "She died in the zone. You know that, right?"

Martin peered through the fence, remembering the DynaCorp detective that came to their home the night his mother died. He was a medium build, olive-skinned man in his mid-30s with jet black hair and a thick Spanish accent. His face and the sound of sirens in the dark were all Martin remembered. That, and the sound of a city on fire.

"I told you what the cop told me, nothing more; nothing less." He looked over Riddick's shoulder toward Boylston Street and a dark thought passed over his face; a thought Riddick recognized all too well; it was the need for vengeance. "I don't know why that old guy is still kicking. But he hasn't aged a day since I was a kid."

"Did you remember something?"

"I think his name is Joe, and he used to be a veterinarian."

"On my way out of Butcher Bay, I met a guy in the sewers who looked just like him."

"Then you've seen him too. I didn't imagine him?"

"Yeah, I saw him. He went by the name Pope Joe when I met him." Riddick explained. He pointed at his eyes and said, "He's the one who gave me these."

Martin looked over his shoulder towards the horizon. "I suppose he could be the same guy. But I can't see how. That was 30 years ago. He'd have to be in his 80s now."

"That guy's 50, at most?"

"This is nuts." Martin said, turning back to Riddick. "He looks like the nut-job who attacked Bree the night our mom died."

Riddick's veins ran cold, his eyes filled with a terrifying blue light and his body hummed, or at least, that's what it sounded like in his head. "Are you saying someone attacked Bree when you were kids and this is the first time I'm hearing about it?"

Martin turned to him with a foreboding expression. "I couldn't tell you what I didn't remember," he said, waving him off before he could go on. "And before you ask, I don't think she remembers this place either. In fact, I'm know she doesn't."

"You mean... remembered," Riddick replied with a furrowed brow. "Or is everyone coming back?"

"Sorry." Martin apologized with a shrug. "It's one thing for us to not talk about this, it's another that my we never spoke of it."

"Never."

"Not once," Martin stressed, straining to remember. "It was as if none of it happened. I didn't even remember the sound of my mother's voice until I heard her talking over there." Martin explained, gazing at Ginger through eyes of nostalgia.

"like I said," Riddick replied, "just a hooker."

"If that's true. Answer me this, why do you believe she's the same woman you saw die. Why can't I have my mother back, but you get some random stranger?"

"Because it's nuts."

"Who is she?"

"Shazza Montgomery."

"Montgomery. Why's that name sound familiar?" Martin asked himself. "Sharon Montgomery. Robert Montgomery's daughter. The Australian industrialist slash co-founder of DynaCorp. Security and C.E.O. of Interstellar Arms, the co-owner operator of Sigma 3, and the Company Rangers. Our old boss is her father. And that's just a fucking coincidence to you?"

"She was on the, 'Hunter-Gratzner,' when it went down. I watched her buy it." Riddick answered, staring over his shoulder at Ginger. "Those creatures tore her to pieces. She can't be alive."

Martin scowled at Riddick. "This keeps getting more bizarre by the minute." From his position in the shadows, he was certain Ginger had looked at him. She smiled at him. She knew he was there.

"What about my answers?"

"Where to begin? There's a lot to tell and most is..."

"Is what!"

"Beyond belief."

Riddick looked at Ginger, but thought of another woman. "I hoped you wouldn't say that."

"Then you admit you think she's Montgomery?"

"Like I said, without proof, it's not possible."

"I can't prove any of it," Martin said, turning to Ginger. "If I could, then I could prove she's my mom."

"No." Riddick stressed, "You can't prove any of it. But there is something you can do."

"Anything."

"Tell me about the night of the attack."

"Why?"

Riddick put his hand up as if feeling the damp air. "Because something is coming. I can feel it out there and I need to know how to fight it before it gets here."

"I'll tell you everything I remember."