Pitch Black Fic.
Author's Note: There was one survivor from the settlement, who has since become a feral, cold blooded killer who has constructed armor from the bones of the predators, as well as the skinless prey, and learned to fight the predators with their own remains, as well as many other things (i.e how to keep their bones from disintegrating in the light). I was going to develop this further, but after a while it just seemed like there wasn't a way to write more about it. Her back story is survival, and the only thing I could have done was to follow the entire story with one extra person. I like it better this way. Less is more.
She hadn't quite understood at first, when She heard the rumble of thunder. It rained very rarely in Hell. Looking up at the bright, sand colored sky, She saw no clouds, only a strange object. She cocked Her head in confusion, wondering if this was another meteor – She remembered the large rock that had smashed into the sand and collapsed a large system of the tunnels that they moved through. Their screeching had turned Her stomach, even as Her skin had felt a rush of thrill at their pain.
Part of it dropped away, and Her head oscillated once more, watching it drop more debris before finally crashing into the sand. She felt a moment of panic as it moved through the dirt, almost burrowing under it. There was a nest of them up ahead, did it know that? Was this thing their ally? She did not immediately feel relief when it stopped and lay still. It did not move for several moments, and She glanced at the debris that it had left behind. It had lost a large section of itself before it had crashed. Was it important to them?
She moved with practiced ease down the loose sand of the dune, a sand colored speck, nearly invisible from above unless someone was looking for Her, but She was alone – She shuddered at the memory, glancing around to make sure the screams were only in Her head before moving quickly to the mysterious thing that had fallen out of the sky. It ticked and hissed softly in the sun, half buried in the sand, and She clicked at it threateningly, watching it warily as it didn't move.
It was oddly shaped, but Her eyes caught on the three conical shapes on its ass end, as well as the out-jutting limbs on either side of it. It reminded Her of Skiff. Was this Skiff's older brother? Her heart quickened at the thought. Rescue. Her people had talked of it often before...The screams bothered Her again, and She clicked them away, crouching in the shadow of Skiff.
Ghosts; She shuddered. Hell is full of ghosts.
Looking towards the front of Skiff, She remembered that this was only a part, and that there was a bigger part. Close to the nest. Close to them. She scampered off down the trail, stopping to pick up pieces of what had fallen. Boxes that wouldn't open. Canisters. A patch of sand was darker than the rest, but lightening rapidly, and She bent down, scooping up a handful and smelling it. Water? Could be. No water for survivors, if it was here in the sand.
If there were survivors.
She hurried on.
Rescue. Her heart felt compressed and She dropped to the ground in response, before pausing in confusion. There was no danger here. She reflected. Rescue; elevated heart rate, but Her skin was dry and warm from the sun, not clammy from sweat. She understood; not afraid.
Excited.
Rescue.
Was it Rescue?
She tried to remember what it was the hushed whispers had said, before there hadn't been any hushed whispers at all.
Noise drew Her focus, and She froze, blending with the sandy landscape as She sought the source of the noise, clicking softly, agitated.
There. Up ahead, She watched as one of the large boxes opened, and a thing fell out. She watched it, ready to strike, but it staggered about in confusion, emptying its stomach on the sand and staggering to its feet. She nearly cried out, a ragged breath catching in Her throat.
People.
Her people.
She crouched frozen in the sand as the people turned its head and searched for the excited clicking that She was making. The sound died in Her throat, as a frightening possibility wandered through Her mind.
Her people were dead.
What if these were Deceivers?
She stayed frozen as it shambled forward along the path of debris, scrambling from hiding place to hiding place as She followed it. The boxes made Her nervous, the not-people inside so still and lifeless, reminding Her of the hatchlings. She wondered if they would hatch like the other did. One of them was full of holes, and a metallic, cloying smell lingered. Blood. She had smelled it before. This one would not hatch.
She followed the people for most of the day, until it stopped, and went still. She watched it for a while, wondering if it had died. Creeping forward to investigate, She was less interested to discover that it was only asleep. She left it there in the sun, scoffing at its foolishness. It would awake sweating and exhausted in the heat. She moved on, following the trail of debris until She neared the long, busted up skiff that had crashed into Hell. She studied what She could see of it and frowned from where She was crouched against the side of the dune.
Not a rescue.
There was movement atop the ship, and She shrank back before darting forward into the darkened interior of the ship. She tucked herself into an alcove, watching the visible daylight for any indication that She had been spotted, and then flinched at a noise behind Her, ducking back into the small space provided as She assessed the noise. Halfway between a click and a shuffle. She ducked Her head out, darting quick glances around the shattered interior before going completely still, staring at the source of the noise.
There was a people in the broken ship with Her, but it wasn't like the other people. It was tied up, its eyes were covered, and it had something in its mouth, forcing its jaws into a fearsome grimace. She watched it for a moment and then silently approached, watching it turn its head from side to side, listening for Her. She was three feet away when its head went still. It would have been looking directly at Her if it could have seen. She cocked Her head to one side, watched it do the same, and then dropped Her eyes to the things around its ankles. Two circular bits of metal, with a chain between them, confining its movement, trapping it. She glanced towards the opening, wondering why.
Carefully, after checking to make sure the coast was clear, She touched the metal, eyes glancing up at the people when it tensed, muscles straining. A low, threatening sound issued from its throat, and She hissed back at it, watching it still, smelling its confusion. Her hands touched the skins it wore, probing the material, and it made that threatening sound again, drawing Her attention to its face. Standing slightly from Her crouch and once again darting glances around the empty space, She stepped a little closer, ready to bolt if all was not what it seemed, but the people just turned its head towards Her, drawing in air through its nose, smelling Her.
She wondered what She smelled like to it. It smelled to Her of sweat, blood, machine oil, and metal, but that was from its chains. Was it seeing Her right now? Was that how it saw the world? Through its sense of smell? She considered the black patch where eyes would have been if it were like Her, and reached out, lightly touching that discolored bit of skin. The people didn't flinch, but it did shift away from Her touch, making the move seem almost casual, as if it were planning to move that way already and Her touch was inconsequential, but She was too shocked to notice. It wasn't sightless, it was blind. Its sight was covered with more material. She touched with more certainty, probing the edge of the cloth, sliding Her fingers under it, moving it upwards over its head, which was smooth, mostly.
The cloth came away easily, and She looked at it, cocking Her head as She felt it between Her fingers. Looking back at the people, She immediately lost interest in the cloth, letting it fall to the grated floor as She stared at the people.
Who stared back at Her.
Its eyes were silver, and shining, and She could feel them looking into Her, searching. They were predator's eyes. They stared into Her without blinking, and She stared back at Him, fascinated. Was that why He was chained up? Were they His prey? Was He like them that the other people kept Him like this? But His skin was smooth. She confirmed this by hesitantly touching His face, rubbing Her fingers together when they came away moist from His sweat. Placing the tips of Her fingers against His parted teeth She found that they were rounded, like Hers, and not sharp, like theirs. She moved to one side, aware of His gaze tracking Her, and He arched an eyebrow when She touched His hands, but did nothing. She returned, eyebrows furrowed, head cocked to one side as She studied Him. His hands were no more clawed than Hers.
His eyes shone as He watched Her impassively, His body language saying that He was waiting. Waiting for Her to make a mistake. Waiting for Her to set Him loose.
She wanted to.
He was like Her.
His eyes shone as they looked into Hers, and She felt His thoughts; felt His demand for freedom. Her hands moved to comply, only to freeze just short of their goal – the chains at His feet. Her head darted sharply, turning with the quick movements of the hunted as She watched, listened, and felt Her instincts scream. Without a word, She snatched up the blindfold and eased it back over His eyes as He tried to duck Her movements. He growled in frustration, but She was gone already, and He could hear the boot-steps that had startled Her.
Inwardly he cursed. Johns, you're a lucky fuck. Twenty more seconds… He let his surface thoughts seethe as the bounty hunter walked past, patting him mockingly on the top of his bald head. His growl was half-hearted, his inner mind already working the details of his escape. He'd seen his chance when the Survivor had removed his blindfold. The gap in the beam just a few feet above his head, the cutting torch just a few feet away… He wondered if Johns had left it there as a taunt and felt the corner of his mouth twitch. If the Survivor hadn't been so curious, he would never have been sure that it was there.
She watched Him run. Watched Him dump His restraints before doubling back to head the opposite way, away from Twosun. Her eyes tracked Him until He vanished into the sand dunes, and then went back to watching the people as they went about, industriously trying to either fix Skiff or salvage its parts. Their voices bothered Her. Brought back the screams. She clicked and hissed softly to herself to dispel the ghosts that plagued Her.
She had been watching them for a while, so She knew that He would not be missed for several hours. She wondered if He would survive, while Her instincts warned Her to be wary. The beast that had been carefully crafted and chipped and honed within Her prowled restlessly. She had been so long with the mindless, ravaging horde of Hell that the discovery of someone with a beast so similar to Her own was unsettling.
A tickle at the back of Her neck spurred Her into action, and within the blink of an eye, She had drawn the wicked bone blade from the sand beneath Her and rolled, ready to defend.
He was crouched behind Her, silently watching, and She stilled, relaxing slightly even as Her blade remained at the ready, and He tilted His head at Her. She glanced back at the people, who were making a fuss. His absence had been noticed. She looked back at Him and then crept away from the hill until She could stand without being seen. He watched Her go, waiting until She stopped and looked back at Him before following Her.
Danger, Her beast warned. She agreed.
She watched them move through the dark, the only speck of light crawling across the sand towards Skiff, where She had checked their repairs and loaded Her supplies of water and nutrient tablets. It was amazing how many had been left after the last Darkness, and how far they had stretched since She was the only one eating them.
They left Her to Herself unless She got too close. They had long since lost interest at Her, attacking only when their hunger became desperate. They focused on the caravan of prey that moved through the darkness, repelling them with their damnable light.
Light that He moved apart from.
The others held light around them like a shield. His light was behind Him as He led the way through the dark.
The predator leading the prey.
And the predator's chosen hunter.
She could smell the chemicals in it whenever it came close enough. Muscles twitched and shook and sweat poured from it, marking its scent greater than the others. It would not survive Darkness.
She was impressed with His learning curve. He had done in just a few short hours what it had taken Her the whole of the last Darkness to discover. His kill was magnificent, and She approved of the way He had gone to the smaller people's aid. Her admiration was cut short, however, when another two of them scurried forward to take their turns trying to kill the small herd of survivors. One of them flicked its tail at Him and knocked Him back before turning to stalk the smaller people. She felt Her beast raise its hackles and bare its fangs.
No.
She dropped from the cliff without a sound, landing on the first one and splitting it wide open. It did not even have time to utter a surprised screech before it died, and She immediately launched herself into the second one, knocking it back as it turned to defend itself, and then blocking a wild attack from its razor sharp spear. It squealed in pain and misery as She severed its left eye-stalk, before swinging Her arm around to aggressively block its prehensile tail, which sliced itself against Her skull-shield. It raked its claws at Her, and She felt its strike land on Her side, grazing Her armor before Her eyes saw red and She struck again and again at its head until it lay still. She hissed at it triumphantly, dropping Her skull shields and snapping its neck much the same as He had done only moments earlier. Then, carefully, She knelt against its neck with Her armored leg, severing its head from its body completely.
For a moment, She rested, feeling the fall in Her feet before turning Her head to look at the people that He stood with. He was covering the smaller people with His body, and She looked to find that the eyestalk had gone flying towards them in Her enthusiasm. She made a clicking sound at them, agitated at Her inability to communicate Her regret, and watched the ones who were standing draw away from Her, closer together. She cocked Her head at them, standing upright as He did, and glancing around the canyon before pushing Her skull armor up from Her face.
She could smell their relief that She wasn't another one of them, as well as see His surprise to see Her again.
"Impeccable timing," He said, watching her sway slightly, like they did.
"Oh my god."
"God ain't got nothin' t' do with her," He said, and She tilted Her head at Him, clicking softly. He responded in kind, His mouth curling upward on one side. She watched Him do that and tried to do the same. She looked demented.
"Riddick, you know her?" asked the smaller people. She looked at it, stepping towards it. One of the others, who was shaped like Her, stepped forward, only to be restrained by the other, who was dark in color. She looked at them, tilting Her head, and then looked back at the little one who stood its ground at His side. It had called Him something.
"In a manner of speaking," He replied, tilting his head at her, silver eyes dipping down to the severed head that She was still holding. She glanced down at it, and then knelt down, working quickly. She stripped most of the flesh away from the back of the skull before pushing her hand inside and pulling out the gore, which She discarded. There were noises of disgust and horror from some of the others, but she ignored it, focused on her work.
It took very little to separate the jaws so that she was holding two halves of its head, and she used the lower half of the skull to break off the remaining eye stalk before standing and stepping towards the smaller people.
"Riddick!" snapped the pale skinned people who was shaped like Her, looking at Him with anger, but He just glanced at the people, expression stoic.
"Relax," he replied, giving the smaller people a push towards Her. It gave a tiny cry, glancing back at Him for reassurance before looking at Her. She turned the skull so that the little people could see into it as She slid Her hand into the hole where its brain had been. The little people looked horrified, but nodded when She removed Her hand and presented the upper skull to it. It made a face as it slid its arm deep into the brain cavity, fingers finally finding a hold. It shuffled the skull on its arm for a second until it was comfortable, and looked up at Her.
"Thanks," it said, licking its lips uncertainly. She blinked at it; staring. Studying. "I'm Jack," it added, and She cocked Her head to one side, eyebrows furrowing slightly. The small people put a hand to its chest. "Jack," it repeated, and She mimed the word, forming the foreign sound around her tongue as she considered the Jack. It looked at Him, who looked amused. "Can she...can she understand me?"
"Hell if I know," he replied.
A close screech made Her drop into a crouch, darting a glance around in the darkness before scurrying over to her discarded weapons and collecting them. She shot urgent looks at the others. At Him, at Jack.
"She's right, let's get moving," He said, and they all started forward, only to stop when it began to rain.
She was confused.
He was leaving his pack?
Her noise of agitation drew his attention, and he looked at her for a long moment before getting up from the pilot's chair and moving to stand at the opening of the ship.
"Are you comin' or stayin?" he asked, and she tilted her head before looking back towards the canyon where the Jack was hiding with the other people. She looked back at Him, pointedly, and he shook his head. "You think I'm going back for them?" She made a hissing noise. "Stop that," he ordered, and she fell silent. "Can you even speak?" he asked her. "Is that even in you, anymore?"
He sneered at her silence and turned back to the Skiff's interior. She felt her beast claw at her urgently from within.
Stop him!
"Jjj..."
He froze, head turned towards the sound.
"Jjjaaa…"
He turned around and looked at her, face blank as she stood on the ramp leading into the Skiff, skull-met lying on the ramp beside her as she worked her jaw.
"-k. Jack."
He stared at her, and though his face wore no expression, she could feel the fury and rage building up within him. It made the air crackle.
"Twenty-two years and that's the word you start over with?" he demanded, but she just stood there, baring her teeth in stubborn defiance of his will to survive by sacrificing his pack.
"Jack." She said the word like an accusation.
"We don't need them. We have the ship and the power cells. We can leave this shit-hole of a planet and never look back," he insisted. She furrowed her brows at him. Never look back? What did that mean?
"R-Rid-dick." She fought for the words. She remembered them, she understood most of them. Why was this so hard? "Jack...n-need Rid—"
Instantly he bristled.
"Shut up!" he snapped, and she flinched, her beast yowling furiously in response to his rage. "You know what I am? I'm a survivor. I've survived things that make this seem like going to the store for milk," he spat. "Them? They're already dead!" he yelled at her. She felt every hair on the back of her neck stand on end at his words.
"No," she said.
"Yes," he growled back.
"No!" she yelled back, hissing and clicking and trying to make him understand. He growled at her and threw up his hands, stalking angrily towards the cockpit. She clenched her fists, grasping at words. "D-d-demons!" she snapped, and he turned, eyes darting out past her for the things before looking at her. She glared at him. "Demons here, Jack dead. No demons here," she said.
"You wanna go back for them, kid, go for it," he told her dryly.
"Stay," she ordered.
"Sure," he replied, but she knew he was trying to deceive her.
"Fear," she hissed, challenging him. His jaw clenched, and his arms folded.
"Is that what you think?" he asked quietly, and she made a low hissing noise, never breaking eye contact with him. "Get on the ship if you're coming, don't if you're not. It's up to you," he told her.
"Fear, fear, fear, fear, fear!" she snapped, raising her hoarse, unused voice.
"Fuck you!" he snapped back, and she stalked into the ship, towards him.
"Fear Jack. Fear people. Fear Riddick," she pushed. His hand lashed out, but she dodged it and he smacked it on a console, which gave a distressed chirp. "Fear," she hissed at him. He glared at her.
"You don't know shit about me," he growled. She jutted her chin forward, standing her ground.
"Jack. Jack fear." She looked at him expectantly. "Jack, Riddick," she insisted, and he growled again, shoving her aside and walking towards the end of the ship. He grabbed the light that he'd dropped and stopped, looking at Her. She walked over and tilted her head before looking down at the panting, drenched people that was standing at the foot of the ramp. Riddick looked as well, saw the people and sighed.
"Let me guess," he started, his voice acid. "You came to make sure I wasn't leaving without you." He shook his head at its unvoiced surprise and turned on the light harness that he was holding before pulling it on. "This is fucked," he muttered, before glancing at Her. She grabbed her Skull-met and pulled it on. He shook his head. "Should'a kept my fuckin' mouth shut," he muttered, but the corner of his mouth was twitching before he turned his head. "Let's go."