This is my second story I've started to write. I vaguely got the idea for my main character from the movie "Unleashed" with Jet Li (watch it, its AMAZING). However, the story is entirely mine, except of course for the characters/scenes/names/etc used from Pitch Black...even though I'd very much life Riddick to be mine...dont we all? Enjoy the story, please leave reviews - I welcome all sorts especially constructive criticism because it helps me become a better writer.
Synopsis: This story is post PB, a bit AU bc there is no COR. It is not a Jack/Riddick fic (though I like those ones very much). Imam Jack and Riddick move to New Mecca as planned and start a life there. Imam and Jack are happily playing along in their new lives, however Richard B. Riddick struggles greatly with this new found humanity - that hasn't really made him all that human. Their lives are eternally adapting and reshaping as each person grows with their new home until an unexpected event plaves a strange girl into their lives leading Riddick to question the values of humanity and struggling with the role of leading someone else down a path he barely knows.
-1-
The night was dark and dreary, an unusual climate for New Mecca which was usually vibrant and colorful at all times. There was a slight breeze, but barely any light, because clouds were populating the night sky, choking off the light of the stars and the moons surrounding the world.
Clarence Houmoni took his last inhale of his cigarette before nodding to the men in the alleyway. Five of them emerged, dragging along a small figure in a dark cloak, and followed Clarence into the small building, which was lit solely by candlelight.
The silence in the building was palpable and it was evident that the residents thought they would not be disturbed.
New Mecca was a world that welcomed many different kinds of people with many different beliefs. It was a peaceful planet with a core that generated happiness in almost every corner, except this one.
The small town of Ishyana was in the more secluded corner of the world. It was a darker atmosphere, though it shared the same sun and air as the rest of the planet. People usually came here to be forgotten or at least, to forget, and to dissipate into the steaming masses of the unemployed and those who sought drugs and liquor to ease their minds.
The door clattered open, the tall large men pulled along the seemingly lifeless body. They were all adorned in thick, elegant and dark robes that swirled around their feet as they walked. Clarence came in last, wearing a immaculate white robe which actually seemed pale in comparison to his silvery white hair, which was long and combed back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.
"You seemed to think I've forgotten what I'm owed." He growled, his voice raspy and dripping with disdain. The few people who inhabited the shanty building cowered against the walls, hoping to disappear into the fading tapestries. "I do not take kindly to people stealing from me. Is that what you are doing Ishmael? Stealing from me?"
A man crawled to his feet and reached with dirty hands to the hem of Clarence's robes, "No sir. Absolutely not sir. I wouldn't dream of it, sir." He said softly, bowing to his feet.
Clarence kicked out at the man, connecting with his head and knocking him to the side. "I've tried to be peaceful. I've given you an inch and you've taken a mile, you worthless piece of shit," He growled and stomped upon the man's hands, "Where is my money?"
The man was holding his hand against his chest, and visibly shaking, "I do not have it." He said, almost defiantly.
"Excuse me? You don't -," Clarence started laughing, joined by the other five men whose hoods hid their features. "I told you what would happen if I did not receive payment." He growled and circled the man on the floor, "And I've treated you so well." He clicked his tongue reproachfully, as would a teacher to a misbehaving student.
"Please sir-,"
But he was cut off, "I've given you enough chances Ishmael." Clarence growled. "I will have my payment by tomorrow, or else we will finish the job we set out for tonight. I will accept anything as long as it has its worth."
"You are too kind sir." He bowed, obviously put off by Clarence's attitude.
"Duwobi?" Clarence said and a man appeared at his right side and nodded, "Ensure that Ishmael and his friends understand whom he is actually dealing with." He growled and turned on his heel and walked towards the group standing at the door.
He approached the smaller figure first and the men all backed away from them. His long white fingers grasped the black hood and lowered it over the figure's head. He untied the string around its neck and let the robe fall around it's shoulders. Standing there, in the glimmering light was a girl. Perhaps a small woman. She was wearing a simple black dress that clung tightly to her small body with a slit high up on the left thigh. She had on black boots and gloves that matched the dress fabric. She had black gauze around the contralateral arm and upper thigh, denoting a previous injury of some sort and a black belt around the left thigh where she kept numerous knives holstered on her person. She was at least a foot smaller than all the men in the room, including Ishmael and his friends. Her hair was jet black and the candlelight seemed to flicker against it with a prism of colors like oil on top of water in the sunlight. Her skin was pale, about as white as Clarence's robes, but it had the same opalesque coloring when light shimmered across it. Her face was pointing down, so it was impossible to see her features, however each person in the room was captivated by her.
Clarence whispered something in her ear and her face shot up, her eyes a violent, diamond blue and expressionless. He reached around her neck and removed a metal shackle from its place and he whispered, "Teach them a lesson. He fucking owes me money."
Her muscles tensed and her lip curled back with a soft, feral snarl as she bounded forward, kicking Ishmael in the face and knocking him to the ground with a fountain of blood pouring out of his nose. In the moment his body hit the floor, Clarence had left, his men following, and the men around the room started moving frantically.
The girl leapt upon the closest one who was easily four times her size. He reached out to grab her, but she effortlessly dogged it, grabbing his arm and bending it backwards at the elbow with a sickening snap. With impossible flexibility, her leg shot up and caught him in the throat. There was an audible pop and the man crumbled to the floor, gasping for breath, making harsh noises because he could not scream. In a few seconds he had passed out from a crushed windpipe.
Another man shot forward, he had a long wooden rod that he swung with full force into the woman's back. She fell to her hands and knees and the man made an upward swing to come down on her back and incapacitate her, but she deftly rolled out of the way. Her foot kicked out, snapping the rod in half and she jumped to her feet. He jabbed at her with the pointed end of the broken rod, hoping to impale her, but he missed completely. She grabbed the rod, pulled it towards her, bringing him along with it, and rammed the heel of her hand into his nose, he let out a strangled cry and stumbled backwards and she threw out a kick to his chest that sent him flying back into a wall where he hit his head with so much force that he was knocked unconscious.
Two other men jumped at her hitting her forcefully on the back and sending her to her knees once more. She simply growled as they grabbed her shoulders, intending to drag her and throw her into the wall, but she simply regained her footing, jumped up, causing the men to stumble backwards. She landed two kicks into their chests, sending them sprawling backwards and her into a back handspring which she landed gracefully, still poised to fight. One man against the wall pulled a gun, sighted, and shot at the girl, she cocked her head at the right moment, and dodged the bullet intended for her brain. She reached him in two large steps and grabbed his wrist and the barrel of the gun and twisting them in opposite directions, pulling his thumb along with it and breaking it. She dismantled the gun in a series of quick motions and it fell worthless to the floor. The man looked up, horrified, cradling his broken hand just in time to see her small hands reach out, grab his head, and head butt him so forcefully that he saw stars and slumped to the ground.
There was one man left, cowering in the corner and shaking. He too pulled a gun, but she grabbed it quickly and rather than tear it apart, she shot him in the kneecap and he fell, crying. While his body spasmed at her feet, she dropped the gun, emotionlessly and walked back over to Ishmael who was lying on the floor, slowly regaining consciousness. She stopped at his side, while he looked around frantically, seeing the bodies of his unconscious friends surrounding him. "Payment. Tomorrow." She said, her voice so very different compared to the body and mind that unleashed upon this gruesome scene. He nodded, whimpering, and she walked out of the building.
Clarence was standing outside, he swung the metal locket around her neck and another man pulled the black robe over her. "Atta'girl." Clarence smiled, slapping her cheeks playfully, but still hard. Her eyes were downcast once again and she made no sound or movement that wasn't guided by the men surrounding her. "Get'er in the vehicle and I'll be on my way." He smiled and made his way up the steps and through the door, where Ishmael was still lying surrounded by his motionless friends.
"Do I make myself clear?" He grinned evilly.
"Crystal." Was all Ishmael said, and Clarence left again.
"These worthless bags of shit are all the same. You give them protection for money and they think its some sort of fucking charity!" Clarence growled, a cigarette hanging from his lip. "Get me home. I need a drink."
In a few moments they approached a very large building. The outside was not very pretty. It was boxy and all cement with sharp corners, with lights blazing on the inside. Clarence made his way through the thick locked doors and into the main room, which was large and furnished with very expensive items that most people on New Mecca had never seen. It was lined with expensive carpets, thick, plush chairs and antique tables with intricate carvings. A man approached, wearing a simple black smock and held out a glass with one ice cube and an amber liquid sloshing around inside of it.
"Thank you." Clarence grumbled and took it down in one drink. He turned on his men, who were still holding the girl there and smiled, "Up to my room men. Then come join me for a drink."
She was tossed onto her hands and knees and only when the men left did she bother standing up and removing the cloak. She draped it over a wooden chair in the corner and moved straight over to the window seat.
The clouds were moving around now and the two moons of New Mecca we're shining brightly against silver clouds. The girl stared silently through the glass and watched as the clouds leisurely danced across the night sky.
The night sky was her favorite. She loved the stars and never completely understood why. Most likely it was their simplistic beauty and the fact that space seemed so magnanimous that it made her life seem inconsequential - and that helped her forget who she was and what her life was like.
She didn't realize she'd been sitting there for hours until the dark room she was in finally lit up from the open doorway. Clarence was standing there, slightly wobbly on his feet and he turned on the light.
The girl turned quickly so that he didn't notice her staring out the window and sat motionless, waiting for what she knew was coming.
"My little Lottie," He sighed and walked towards her, stumbling. She stood at the sound of her name and he placed his soft hands against her cheek.
She didn't move or breathe for fear of retaliation and let his hands slide down her arms and touch the rest of her body. She was so disenchanted and disconnected from herself that it was quite easy to imagine things were not happening to her. This was a part of her daily life now. The pain and discomfort from her childhood had been replaced with a hollow feeling of resignation.
"So beautiful," He growled, "So soft." His hands traced lightly over her clothed breasts and he grabbed her shoulders forcefully and pulled her to him. His breath was hot and sticky on her neck and face and he reeked of alcohol, but she didn't flinch - once again she'd grown used to this long ago.
He forced her over to the bed and stood her at the edge and returned to the wooden chair in the corner of the room. He opened the window slightly and sat down, lighting up a cigar. "Take it off." He grumbled, his lungs full of smoke.
She only responded by unbuttoning the side of her dress slowly, letting it hang off of her body. She slid off the gloves, the gauze, her boots, and the knives slowly and finally let the dress fall completely off of her. She was standing in front of him, her mind miles away in a dark empty place, with only a pair of black underwear covering her bottom half.
He growled appreciatively and Lottie heard him removing his robes and them billowing to the floor with a barely perceptible swish. He left his cigar burning in an ashtray by the window and moved towards Lottie. His hands scraped over her skin, grabbing and squeezing at her in an uncomfortable manner. She did not move until he pushed her back onto the bed and started his assault on her body.
She made no sound, no movement unless his hands guided hers and she lay there, staring out of the window into the night sky, ignoring the stench, the feeling of his teeth on her sensitive flesh, and the pain between her thighs, and concentrating only on the stars and the clouds caressing the night sky.
