A/N: This is the first fanfiction I've actually published here. It's a Pitch Black/Metroid crossover, in case you haven't noticed. Pitch Black itself, while it may not be the best movie ever, is extremely entertaining and I love it. This fanfiction takes place, of course, during the Pitch Black movie, and after Metroid: Other M. While making it post-Fusion would be fun, I merely can't stand the fusion suit. I'm sorry. I just hate it. Neither series is owned by me, but the plot is, so no stealing my ideas (not that they're worth stealing). Also, the name of the chapters and their respective quotes are all taken from Despair Inc., and if you don't know what that is, well, then look it up.

CHAPTER I : ADVERSITY

"That which does not kill me postpones the inevitable."

Outer Space. It is known by many names. The Black. The Final Frontier. The Endless Night. The Mother. To some, it is something to be represented through mathematical equations and scientific statements. To others, it is a mystical entity capable of rewarding and punishing those that inhabit it. But while many claim to, few understand its purpose. There were once great races that understood its meaning and purpose, commanding mighty civilizations that could read the hidden messages written in the sky. But those times had ended long, long ego, leaving only echoes for people to understand. Some believe that space can control the will of everyone, and leads people to whatever destiny awaits them. But others will claim that everything is random, and what could appear to be a twist of fate is merely a coincidence.

So was it fate, or coincidence that had the Hunter Gratzner glide so seamlessly through the trail of a comet? Was it the great void punishing those inside, or perhaps showing spite to the innocent lives on-board? Or was it a mere accident, something that could have happened to any other ship? Whatever the reason for the tragedy that occurred, the reality of things were simple: the ship was crashing, and crashing fast.

As Catholyn Fry and Greg Owens, the two surviving crew members of the ship, tried desperately to stabilize the ship as it plummeted through the atmosphere of the unknown planet that had pulled the ship in, the few dozen passengers that comprised the ship's main load were waking up for the first time since their departure. Well, all except two.

The first of those two was a shackled man in a very special cryostasis pod, labelled "Lockout Protocol: No Early Release." Richard B. Riddick had been awake for the entire ride, astutely aware of his surroundings. He was a criminal, a wanted murderer and known psychopath. The tall, muscular convict grew up in the system and knew it well enough to want to avoid going back to prison no matter what the cost. So his supposed "slumber" consisted of him plotting his escape from his captor, the bounty hunter William J. Johns. Riddick hated bounty hunters in general, and "The Blue-Eyed Devil" (as he called him) was no different. However, despite his almost superhuman senses that kept him awake during the long trip that was so abruptly interrupted, he failed to notice that there was a second person awake.

The second of the two individuals who were conscious during the entire trip was tucked in-between some other passengers in an unmarked and undistinguishable pod. But despite the fact that the pod was plain, the person inside was not. The figure inside was clearly aware of its surroundings, including the fact that it wasn't the only one awake. The person inside the pod had taken this ghost route in an attempt to avoid any trouble, but it seemed that the galaxy had something else in store for the unknown passenger.

Pods opened quickly as people began to stumble out, more than often thrown sharply to the ground. Johns, the bounty hunter, was the first. His slumber had been filled with dreams of riches, riches he was planning to get by turning in his bounty. It was easy to tell that something was terribly wrong with the situation, but unlike the others who woke up, he did not first check his surroundings, but rather the pod that contained his prize. Pleased that Riddick was still contained, he began to look around the rest of the ship, unaware of the dilemma that plagued the pilot and the navigator. But before anyone had a chance to get a bearing of their surroundings, the ship hit the dry soil of the unknown world they had crashed on, and everyone was tossed about helplessly, their lives once again forfeit to chance or fate, or whatever driving force compelled them to be victims of such a tragedy.

The minute Riddick's pod opened, he knew he would have only a few minutes until his captor was up and hot on his trail. He had no personal vendetta against the man, but Johns planned to turn in the bounty on his head, which would take away the one value that Riddick found important: freedom. So if the convict wanted to survive, then the bounty hunter would have to die. He found no qualms in ending the life of another, as he had done it so many times before for the same reason: survival. In Riddick's eyes, his survival was all he fought for.

Climbing up some debris inside the ship, Riddick hid near the roof of the fallen vessel, laying in wait for his enemy to come pass beneath him. His eyes were covered, but that did not matter to the hulking mass of muscle; his sense of smell and hearing would be all he needed.

Sure enough, the sound of boots against the metal floor echoed as John passed underneath him. Not hesitating for a moment, the murderer used the binding on his legs as a tool to strangle the life out of the Blue-Eyed Devil. But the bounty hunter would not go down without a fight. Grabbing the baton on his "uniform," the man proceeded to beat Riddick in a desperate attempt to get his attacker to loosen his grip. His desperate attempt would have been futile, had it not been for the weak bar that Riddick clung onto. No longer able to support him, the pipe broke and Riddick came crashing down, hitting his head and getting knocked out as he hit the ground. At first, the bounty hunter was going to hit him again, but when he saw his target was unconscious, a smirk danced across his lips.

"Ya know," He said, almost amused with Riddick's attempt on his life. "One of these days, one of us is going to get hurt, and it ain't gonna be me." Though Riddick could not respond, Johns enjoyed the little statement, and got to work tying Riddick up so he couldn't break out again.

It was during this time that the rest of the survivors began to look for each other. Three boys, dressed in loose cotton clothes that those living on the desert would wear, stayed together as the moved about the ship, frantically calling out for what appeared to be another member of their group.

"Imam!" They all shouted at various intervals, desperately searching for their mentor. Their shouts continued, but in Arabic, so the rest of the survivors could not understand what they were saying.

"I am here, children," A deep voice called out from the inside of the ship, assuaging their fears. An older man stepped out from the shadows and went over towards them. The children's dark, dirty faces lit up with joy upon seeing their caretaker alive and well, and eagerly ran to him.

"Look," A dark-haired woman called to the group of four Muslims, annoyed and still in shock. "I sure you're all happy that you're all alive, but give us a hand with this!" She motioned over to another pod, contained a figure still trapped inside. Blowtorch in hand, the dark-skinned man next to her proceeded to cut the pod open, while the others helped keep the stasis pod up. A few moments later and the door was open, and a child was tumbling out. Looking up at the faces around him, Jack grinned.

"I'm guessing something went wrong?" Despite his light-hearted tone, he knew the gravity of the situation, quickly helped to his feet by the rest of the group, he looked around, trying to see if there were any more pods that needed to be open.

"I think everyone's out," The dark-haired woman said, looking around as well. Her eyes then went back to the group, unsmiling. "I'm Shazza. This is Zeke, my husband." The man with the blowtorch nodded and waved, rising from his crouching position to his full height.

"This is Ali, Hassan, and Sulieman," The leader of the small Muslim group said, gesturing to each child respectively. "And I am Abu al-Walid."

"Paris P. Ogilive," Another man introduced himself. "Collector of prized antiques."

"Jack," The boy who had been trapped said. "And I suggest we get out of here. Looks like no one else is-" The boy was cut short as the sound of something hitting metal echoed through the remains of the ship. For a moment, everyone remained silent, as if checking to see if they weren't just hearing things. Then the sharp thud came again, and the group's eyes travelled to the source of the noise, tucked away in a corner, covered in debris.

Another pod.

Frantically running over, the group began to pull away the sheets of metal and fallen wires that covered the overturned pod. The banging continued, and it became obvious that someone was trapped inside. Soon, everyone was pushing against the pod, trying to get it turned right-side up. It was at this moment that Catholyn Fry and William J. Johns entered, staring at the group in shock. But the two were quick-minded, and it didn't take them long to understand what was going on. Joining the survivors, they pushed against the pod until finally, it turned over, and the door opened. Out came a woman who rolled to the side, allowing the group to let go of the pod and step away. Her vision blurry for a moment, the blond was suddenly aware of the collection of people staring down at her, and blinked rapidly. A hand came and she grabbed it, being helped to her feet by a woman dressed as a member of the crew, the pilot.

"Glad to see another person's alive," Zeke commented, looking around for any more pods they might have missed. The newest addition nodded slightly, still a little dizzy.

"Glad to be alive," She replied, a ghost of a smirk dancing across her lips. Shaking off any feelings of shock, she looked around. "I take it we didn't crash on a habited planet, did we?" At the pilot's nod, she sighed. "Great. Well, at least we're alive." Her eyes travelled across the group, looking over each member quickly.

"So who are you?" Jack asked, curious about the new woman.

"Samu-" The woman stopped short, as if catching herself and running something through her head. "It's Sam. Call me Sam." Looking the ship over one last time, she sighed again, almost as if the whole ordeal was a mild inconvenience rather than a serious, live-threatening accident.

"Now, who else wants to get out of this piece of scrap?"

A/N: It could be longer, but I kinda want to end it here. And for some reason, this makes me mad. I don't know why. Future chapters should be longer.