Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Black, Riddick or Jack, though I wish I did. pout
I aint no
fuckin' hero. All these legends and stories about me aren't even
close to the
damn truth. Killed a thousand..ten thousand...Stories
and vids about me ghosting
hundreds is a bit of a stretch. Sure,
I've killed, big damn deal. I did what I had to to
survive. The
legend of the bad ass Riddick lives on, out of the mouth of mercs and
idiots who've never met me.
The damn holy
man didn't help one bit either. Sure, he and the kid told everyone I
died, but that didn't stop him from spouting out how I "saved"
them from the gut-
splitters on T2. Said I died in glory and that
horseshit pulling them into the ship before
I got gutted myself. The
man couldn't help an embellishment or two, I suppose. And
people
believed it. Messed up my reputation something fierce. Richard B.
Riddick, gone
from psycho ass-kicker to some pansy assed knight in
tarnished armor. It's almost
enough to make me sick, either that or
fall on my ass laughing.
It's been five
years, five long years since we rocketed off T2. I've covered my ass
pretty
well, stayed low on a far off planet that no one ever visits.
It might be because of the
constant storms, or the cover of dark
clouds that hide the surface. It's dark, sure, but at
least there
aren't any fucking whistling monsters trying for a piece of my hide.
Since I'm
supposed to be dead, mercs aren't on my trail looking for
a payday, but it doesn't mean I'm
going soft. Hell no. I'm not stupid
enough to think that it's all over. It's more like the quiet
before
the storm. Before the shit hits the fan. And I've got a feeling that
the fan is just
starting to spin. Call it instinct.
Sometimes,
when the lightning cracks in the ion storms, too bright for my eyes
to tolerate,
I lie back in my small bed, feet hanging over the edge
and remember. Damn kid..tried three
times to stow away on my ship
when I was leaving, begged me not to leave her alone with
the holy
man on New Mecca. Cried every single time that I dragged her skinny
ass out.
She fought pretty damn hard the last time, those nails that
I forgot about gave me a few
good scratches. I had to admire her
spirit, but there was no fucking way I could have a naive
kid
trailing my ass everywhere. I finally ended up having to knock her
senseless before I
drug her back to the Imam's house. He was pretty
furious, but what the hell else was I
supposed to do? I didn't want
to shiv her after I
managed to drag her outta T2. Would've
been a waste of energy for all
I'm concerned.
more. Part of me wonders if she's still the skinny brat, and if she's grown that hair out.
Don't know why that kid touched me like she did; she wasn't much to look at and she wasn't
all that smart. Fuck..I don't even know why I think about her. It's not like I'm going to see
Jack again.
The buzz of the
fatline in the landed ship buzzed, breaking him out of his thoughts That had happened
only twice in the last five years, and it was always the same man. Sitting up,
Riddick pressed recieve,
and waited for the holo generator to warm
up. What was it this time? Probably like the last two, a
short
message letting him know that they were fine..doing well...that kinda
shit. He'd never responded.
That part of his life was over, maybe he
shouldn't have given the holy man his access codes. What the
hell, it
broke the monotony.
that the holo projector always cast him in. Riddick sat back, crossing his arms as the mouth began to
move, slightly out of sync with the words that suddenly came through. The man's face looked strained
through the flicker, and the voice that faded in and out wasn't the composed tone that Riddick had
remembered.
"They
know... " a fade and flicker and the voice returned. "..price
on your head. They've took her...."
the voice dropped out, and
Riddick smacked the holo-gen. "...wouldn't tell. They think to
draw you...must
hurry before they know I'm speaking. .... threatened
to take her to T2 and leave. I'm sorry, Mr.Riddick.
She's... "
The holo-gen spluttered and died, the message gone.
