Without preamble, he rushed forward. His target was big and muscular, therefore slow. Both axes came down and around to slice through…
	Empty air. Faster than a scream, his target had moved to one side, twisting and spinning. As Riddick wisped past the charging assassin, one hand reached out, grabbed the hilt of the dagger that protruded from Irgun’s back, and pulled it free. As he wrenched the shaft out of his attacker’s flesh, the blade brought with it blood and bits of nerve.
	Twin axes still gripped firmly in both hands, Irgun straightened. His expression of grinning expectation was replaced by one of surprise. He looked astonished. Then he looked dead. Falling forward like a tree cut through at the base, he formed an impressive heap on the floor — weapons, armor, communications gear, and all.
-The Chronicles of Riddick (page 108)