Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Black, nor do I own Riddick, I wish I did because he's FRIGGEN hot..but I don't. The only character I do own, however, is the scared, yet flashy interviewer….everyone else belongs to someone else….sad I know…
"What do you see Riddick?" The man asked, his arms folded over the blue
shirt the Mercs had
given him before he took this interview job, "In the dark, what do you see?"
Riddick raised his head slowly, his fluorescent eyes gleaming with pride,
and social defeat. "Fear." He
snorted up at the reporter, his lips curling in a satanic smirk.
"Is that all?" The man asked, his thumb resting on the dip of his own chin,
as if he were thinking, his
other occupied a small spiral notebook in his wiry grasp.
There was no answer.
"Is that all?" He repeated, the man's patience growing thin, yet his fear
was rising. Riddick could sense
it.
"Do you really want to know?" His brows furrowed as his reply came out witha harsh snort. "Do you
really want to tap into the shadows of the unknown, awaken your fears with the twisted silence of the truth?" He spat, his anger flooding through his body.
The man squirmed lightly his arms reaching around to enfold himself in their embrace. "That's why I'm here...." The man replied, a rush of goose bumps flooding over his frame.
"DO YOU?" Riddick boomed back, the color of his eyes dancing with the taste of the man's senses.
"Y-yes.." The man stammered, "Ofcourse.."
A sly grin crept back upon Riddick's down turned lips, he had scared this man shitless. "Well..what part of the dark would you like to know about?" His eyebrows raising with mocking curiosity. "The part about the woman and man fucking on the bedroom floor, as I slipped through the darkened hallway?" He smirked then as the small man before him felt a wave of relief pass over his fear. Riddick didn't like that, he wanted him to fear him. "Oh, but wait. The man was me, the woman, a twenty-four year old virgin screaming out to the darkness as I thrusted into her like a wild beast. Never once did I stop until the blood flowed from her untouched opening," He paused looking at the man's sickly facial expression, hatred danced with the fear. Such a lovely combination. "I released into her, my seed spilling over her lifeless body." A pause. "Is that what you came here looking for? Or
shall I continue?"
The man grew white, his eyes stared blankly at the shadowed figure infront of him. "I suppose." Was all he could manage out.
Riddick grinned then, kicking his feet upon the wooden table, his chair resting on it's two back legs. He was the master at this game, he was the winner. "In Pitch Black, there is one thing that covers all others like a thick blanket of mucus," He began, "Fear. Fear was what the man was feeling when I jabbed my shiv deep within the warm insides of his large belly, gutting him like a fish." He explained, his hands resting upon the top of his head, his reflective eyes never leaving the man's face. "Have you ever gutted a fish before?" He asked the man.
"Ye-yeah, once." A stutter was all he could force out
"Then you could imagine how hard it was to gut a two hundred and seventy-five pound Merc," He cut in, "But I did."
There was an eerie silence floating about the room, the weight of Riddicks eyes upon the man, and the rhythmic squeaking of the chair upon which Riddick rocked in, was all the
reporter could bear. "Tell me about the planet." He managed out.
"What do you want to know about?" He was calm and unusually cool.
"What did you see in the dark that the others did not?" The man asked now, the eraser of his pencil scratching the top of his balding head nervously.
"Lust." He gruffed
"Lust?" The man repeated.
"No Sherlocke, i said MONEY!" He growled sarcastically at the man, making the reporter flinch.
"Yes, Lust."
The reporter grew silent, letting the convict, Riddick explain his story.
"Lust for blood, for flesh, for murder." He sighed, letting the front legs of his large chair rest back down upon the floor. "I saw the face of Iman's second son as he was being ripped open from his stomach up. I saw the doubt cross over the holy man's face as his remains lay on the floor in a pile of blood and saliva. I saw his third son's body being snapped like a twig in the air above, his skull crushed like an egg in those menacing jaws. Yet still, Iman saw something deep within the darkness, that even I could not see," Riddick explained as he stood up facing his back towards his breathless audience, "He saw God. He was sure the bastard was out there, looking out over us, even after the deaths of all his son's, he still saw the presence." Riddick said in a doubtful laugh, his large hand running over the buzzed hair of his head.
"Do you believe God was there?"
Riddick turned then, his reflectors gazing upon the man. He asked so many damned questions. "I don't believe in God." He stated flatly, "Never have, never will."
"Why?"
Riddick growled, his teeth peeking through his tight lips as he grabbed for the collar of the man's shirt, and thrusted him forth, his nose almost touching Riddicks. "I Just Don't." He snarled letting the man stagger backwards and land on the safety of the table.
He sat up wide-eyed, face white, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. He was shaking ferociously, fear poured from the scent of his sweat. Yet he stayed, wanting all the information on this bad guy that he possibly could.
"Somethings I just don't like answering," He stated, resting his body back against the cool wall. "And you hit it right on the spot." Then, "In the darkness I couldn't see a God, but I could see demons, and they were everywhere." He murmured to the wall, the muscles in his back tensing up as he reflected back on the episode. "When the girl had started her bleeding, the ghoulsaround us had found their next victim, and Johns would have done anything to leave the child by herself, to give the others time to run for our pathetic lives. In the end he was the one running, in the veins of another creature, that is. I'm not saying what happened to Johns was right, but I'm not sating I regret it either, cause I don't. He could have ghosted me a long time ago, yet he never had the balls to carve me like a turkey. If it was me who had the siv, we would be having a fucking Turkey Dinner, and Johns would have been main course." He grinned then, his fingers running over the stubbles of his chin.
"I take it you didn't like Johns all that much." Meekly said.
He shrugged then, "The man was like me, trying to survive. For that I admired him, but as he threatened to press the blade to my throat, I killed him." He stopped then, his senses reaching out over the man, his heart rate had slowed and the murderous fear had all but faded. "In the darkness I saw the creatures fight over his carcass, clawing even their own kind. Soon it was a battlefield, demon against demon, darkness against darkness." He scoffed, turning his face towards the reporter once more. "Jack, the bleeding girl, thought of me as a hero, an angel. If she only knew I had every intention to leave her and the old man to rot on the planet, if it wasn't for Fry, I would have. She was the real angel, the real hero." His metallic orbs dropped to the floor once, then stared emotionlessly back at the man.
"What happened to Fry?" He asked, the tip of the eraser emerged slightly in his mouth.
The convict known as Richard B. Riddick, sat back down in his original chair, his legs resting comfortably upon the plastic prints of wood occupying the table. The chair resting back upon two rear legs, as he placed his hands behind his shaved head. "In the darkness, I saw a demon fight an Angel, and as the demon's claw sliced through the soft flesh of the angel and carried her off," He blinked once, twice, yet his gaze never faltered from the man, "In the darkness, I saw love."