Metallic
folder
M through R › Pitch Black
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
2,758
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Pitch Black
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
2,758
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Pitch Black, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
10
10
***
Johns woke slowly, his head spinning. He hurt. He couldn’t say where exactly, just that he hurt. All over. Inside and out. He was aching in every muscle in his body. He couldn’t move his arms.
Then he turned and he remembered why.
Riddick was standing at the side of the bed, naked and glorious. The muscles of his chest and arms stood out, accentuated by the shadows cast in the dim light. There was something oddly fascinating about him just standing there. And something sickening that turned Johns’ stomach.
“What now?” he asked, his voice steadier than he’d thought it could be. For that, at least, he was grateful.
“I’ll go for the sweet spot”, Riddick said slowly, softly. “Abdominal aorta. It won’t take long”.
Johns nodded. He saw the shiv in Riddick’s hand, glinting in the low light. He saw the same metallic glint in Riddick’s eyes.
He closed his eyes. That gleam was to be the last thing he would ever see.
He felt the cold steel of the shiv against his spine. He felt it trace a path downwards, felt the sting as it pierced his skin, the cold burn as it sank in lower, deeper, biting hard and slow. He felt the hot rush of his blood spilling out over his skin.
And, mercifully, he lost consciousness soon after.
***
The shiv cut deep, ‘til Riddick’s fingertips were brushing against the hot flesh just inside the wound. He drew it back just a fraction of an inch, and the blood began to flow freely, spilling down over Johns’ back, soaking into the sheets and into the mattress. Such a waste.
Riddick reached for the dresser. He picked up the glass he’d left there, pressed it slicslick skin beside the wound and let the blood flow into it, filling it slowly. It was thick and red and warm, filling the clear glass with beautiful translucent scarlet. In Riddick’s eyes it almost glowed.
He moved to the chair at the foot of the bed and sat, looking back at Johns with his head cocked, holding the glass in his hands. For a moment he thought of cutting the blood with a shot of that cool Centauran whiskey, then quickly changed his mind. He drank it straight. It tasted coppery and sweet, just like he remembered.
***
Johns woke with a start. His head felt heavy and he felt a dull ache in his back. He opened his eyes and peered into the brightness.
He was alive.
And a doctor appeared at his side, dressed to anaemic hospital standards.
“Where am I?”
“You were attacked. You lost a lot of blood. We had to leave part of the shiv inside you. Frankly, you’re lucky to be alive, Mr. Johns”.
“I asked you ‘where am I?’ not ‘what happened to me?’ This ain’t Centauri 2”.
“You’re back at Ursa Luna, Mr. Johns. We picked up your medical bill and had you transported back to us in cryo-sleep”.
Johns nodded.
Some Slam City admin guy appeared. “It appears Riddick bested you”.
Johns scowled. Riddick. Fucking Riddick. Riddick was going to fucking pay. Riddick was going back to Slam. He’d fucking see to that or die fucking trying.
“How long ‘til I’m ready to go?” he asked.
“A week, Mr. Johns, no earlier”.
Johns smiled. The doctor frowned. Johns turned his head to the official. “Give me two weeks and we’ll see who’d bested”, he said.
And from the determined glint to the mercenary’s eye, that official had to wonder if maybe Johns was right.
***
End
***
***
Johns woke slowly, his head spinning. He hurt. He couldn’t say where exactly, just that he hurt. All over. Inside and out. He was aching in every muscle in his body. He couldn’t move his arms.
Then he turned and he remembered why.
Riddick was standing at the side of the bed, naked and glorious. The muscles of his chest and arms stood out, accentuated by the shadows cast in the dim light. There was something oddly fascinating about him just standing there. And something sickening that turned Johns’ stomach.
“What now?” he asked, his voice steadier than he’d thought it could be. For that, at least, he was grateful.
“I’ll go for the sweet spot”, Riddick said slowly, softly. “Abdominal aorta. It won’t take long”.
Johns nodded. He saw the shiv in Riddick’s hand, glinting in the low light. He saw the same metallic glint in Riddick’s eyes.
He closed his eyes. That gleam was to be the last thing he would ever see.
He felt the cold steel of the shiv against his spine. He felt it trace a path downwards, felt the sting as it pierced his skin, the cold burn as it sank in lower, deeper, biting hard and slow. He felt the hot rush of his blood spilling out over his skin.
And, mercifully, he lost consciousness soon after.
***
The shiv cut deep, ‘til Riddick’s fingertips were brushing against the hot flesh just inside the wound. He drew it back just a fraction of an inch, and the blood began to flow freely, spilling down over Johns’ back, soaking into the sheets and into the mattress. Such a waste.
Riddick reached for the dresser. He picked up the glass he’d left there, pressed it slicslick skin beside the wound and let the blood flow into it, filling it slowly. It was thick and red and warm, filling the clear glass with beautiful translucent scarlet. In Riddick’s eyes it almost glowed.
He moved to the chair at the foot of the bed and sat, looking back at Johns with his head cocked, holding the glass in his hands. For a moment he thought of cutting the blood with a shot of that cool Centauran whiskey, then quickly changed his mind. He drank it straight. It tasted coppery and sweet, just like he remembered.
***
Johns woke with a start. His head felt heavy and he felt a dull ache in his back. He opened his eyes and peered into the brightness.
He was alive.
And a doctor appeared at his side, dressed to anaemic hospital standards.
“Where am I?”
“You were attacked. You lost a lot of blood. We had to leave part of the shiv inside you. Frankly, you’re lucky to be alive, Mr. Johns”.
“I asked you ‘where am I?’ not ‘what happened to me?’ This ain’t Centauri 2”.
“You’re back at Ursa Luna, Mr. Johns. We picked up your medical bill and had you transported back to us in cryo-sleep”.
Johns nodded.
Some Slam City admin guy appeared. “It appears Riddick bested you”.
Johns scowled. Riddick. Fucking Riddick. Riddick was going to fucking pay. Riddick was going back to Slam. He’d fucking see to that or die fucking trying.
“How long ‘til I’m ready to go?” he asked.
“A week, Mr. Johns, no earlier”.
Johns smiled. The doctor frowned. Johns turned his head to the official. “Give me two weeks and we’ll see who’d bested”, he said.
And from the determined glint to the mercenary’s eye, that official had to wonder if maybe Johns was right.
***
End
***