AFTER ALL
folder
M through R › Pitch Black
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
6,311
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Pitch Black
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
6,311
Reviews:
10
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.
Several Years Later
Sorry for the delay!! I've been super busy lately, and will continue to be...super busy. But here's an update for ya'll, with the INTRO OF JACK! Taadaa and all that shit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
…SEVERAL YEARS LATER…
“Mmmm…Rapistburger. Nice choice. I woulda gone with cow, but yanno. Whatever.”
Jack watched on with rapt attention, knowing she really SHOULDN’T be all that fascinated by the truly messy process. She was happy to see that her “Big Evil” was using the zip-up freezer bags she’d given him. Plus, it was just too priceless to watch Imam wander the house in search of the frequently-missing garbage bags, muttering to himself and shooing her out of the way occasionally to look in an obscure place.
*******
It’d been not-long-enough since the Hunter-Gratzner crash, since she’d met Riddick in the flesh. She could tell, the way you could tell an animal was sick, that he was starving. Just looking at him, all trussed up like a psychopathic Christmas tree with Johns in the background bragging about the all-too-easy capture…just looking at him, he looked weaker than a predator like he should be. She got the impression this guy didn’t eat salads.
The second he’d escaped and everyone went on the panic, she knew he’d be back. Nobody could survive a desert, already half starved and shaken, without some kinda nourishment. And when he’d been caught again, after whats-his-name got ripped to pieces, she’d dared to creepy down to the wreckage where he’d been chained. She offered up some of the rare bits of food they’d salvaged from the cargo hold- possibly the dumbest thing she’d ever done in her entire life, which said a lot- and he took it from her hand like a stray dog. Maybe it was the smartest thing- nobody wanted to bite the hand that fed, not even Riddick.
When he had been let free to wander on his leash, she’d watched him disappear over the rim of the crevice left by the Gratzner, supposedly “in search of unbroken water containers”…which she knew was a crock of shit. She followed him, trying desperately to be stealthy like only he could be. Fortunately- or unfortunately, for Riddick- he was so engrossed in eating as quickly as possible, he didn’t hear her coming. Thank god it was just her, too, because as soon as she saw his hands shoved wrist deep in the ruined, charred body of one of the other passengers, she squawked, hit the ground, and vomited. He was on her, quick as a snake, one jagged piece of metal poised to stab straight up into her throat, one bloody hand pinning her to the ground. He’d made her a promise, right then and there, that if she ever told anyone that she’d even seen him NEAR that body, he’d make her into a well tenderized sandwich.
The first words she could choke out of her constricted throat as he scaled the ridge again were, “Kay you’re…not..human, are you. Cuz yanno like. Cannibalistic people on earth got all kinds of diseases from doing that. And um. You’re just mentally sick, I think.”
Riddick ignored her.
*******
He’d intended to leave her on Helion Prime with Imam and disappear for awhile, but the thought of wronging someone who knew something about him that would send him straight to death row…displeased him. So Jack was to stay with Imam and go to school with the promise that if she did, he would stay nearby. But not with Imam. Imam was a vegetarian.
And now here he was, allowing her to watch him dismember somebody for the second time in her life while she held open a large garbage bag for him. As of yet, she;d only been able to bring herself to hold a beefsteak-like slab of muscle in the palm of her hand, still warm, before shuddering and tipping it into the bag. It was just as well- she really shouldn’t enjoy touching raw human produce.
He closed up the bag and shouldered it, nudging a stray eyeball out of the way so she could hoist herself up off the ground next to him. She ended up squishing it anyways, and he took off down the deserted alleyways while she wiped the goo off of her shoes. He had to love the people of Helion- when the sun “went off”, they went in, and nobody in the right minds was on the streets. Except rapists and other scumbags. (Of course, he though to himself, he wasn’t a scumbag. He was a garbage disposal.)
Jack scuffed along behind him, careful not to get to close to him lest he stop suddenly and she crash into the “take out bag”. She followed him until the streets and alleyways became familiar looking, his “territory”, and down into the maze of ruin and rubble that led to his…home. Considerably better than a tire dump, Riddick had taken up residence in one of the many failed subway stations of Helion. Like others before it, this particular train had crashed horrifically during a test run, and the station was left to decompose. Water now ran through it, from some unknown source, and light shone through a few cracks and holes in the ceiling, illuminating the organized chaos that was Riddick’s dragon cave. Complete, of course, with a few stray cats that stuck around when he was handing out scraps.
Jack paused to let her human eyes adjust to the darkness of the ruin, and by the time she could focus, Riddick had already banked a tiny fire and was delivering the more disgusting parts of the human body to the stray cats. They seemed happy enough, for eating what would normally own them, were they normal cats. Jack petted one as she passed to go sit by the fire, watching quietly while Riddick made his own meal out of tin foil and the hot coals in the fire. What wasn’t immediately used he left in the bag for later- the man could put away epic amounts of food in a day, if he had the chance.
Riddick was perfectly silent through the whole process, occasionally glancing at Jack to make absolutely certain she wasn’t about to run off and bring the National Guard. Finally, when there was nothing left to do but sit and wait for his dinner to cook, he allowed himself one small, contented sigh. Jack picked this as a cue to Start Talking.
“Hey yanno…I didn’t throw up this time. That’s good, right? I mean that I’m getting used to you doin weird shit all the time. Right?” She honestly didn’t expect a response out of him, and was pleasantly surprised when he nodded slowly. “So um. Do you think those cats are gonna be those kinda cats that eat their owners when they die? Like a little old lady kicks it and all her eight-thousand cats just have at her like a buffet? Cuz I mean…they know what human tastes like now.” She looked directly at him, obviously expecting a response, now that he’d encouraged her.
Riddick took a deep breath and let it out past his lips, massaging the knot of tension in his brow. “Jack…I..have no idea.” She frowned and turned to look at the cats, who were bathing placidly and falling asleep in weird positions. “Maybe they’ll skip the waiting part and just attack people on the street in hoards. Shit, I dunno.”
It took her a few seconds to realize that he had just attempted humor- one small step for man…..- and then she cracked a grin that grew broader when it prompted a very small smile from him. He took the foil wrapped meat from the fire, undaunted by the steaming metal, and wolfed it down with a certain measure of pride. He’d taken to picking off the ass-pimples of society- rapists, sociopaths, people like him- for his meals. This one was no exception- the guy’s parole officer was gonna shit a golden egg in the morning. He liked it that way. For now, he contented himself with his large meal until he was sated.
Jack opened her mouth and startled him out of a very light doze- she had been watching him attentively, which could have been extremely unnerving….were it not Jack.
“Hey. Wake up a sec.” He shot her a dirty look, eyes looking like a couple of splinters of silver. “Yea, yea, glare at me,” she went on, “So. If I die before you, which doesn’t seem all that likely-“
“Thanks, Jack.”
“-Shutup, trying to talk, here. Anyways, if I die first…you gotta promise me one thing, kay?”
“…what?” Riddick looked dubious, and rightfully so. Anything that could come out of Jack’s piehole next promised to make a cat fart audible.
“You gotta eat me. Seriously, like…that would be the best tribute ever. Just don’t eat my face. Got it?”
Riddick stared at her, and, if only to get her to shut the hell up and let him get some sleep and stop with the ridiculous suggestions, he nodded.
*******
Jack left him after that, winding her way back up to Imam’s, happy in knowing that someday, perhaps she would be a Shish-Kabob.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And there we have it. Jack, the ever heart warming and erm...eloquent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
…SEVERAL YEARS LATER…
“Mmmm…Rapistburger. Nice choice. I woulda gone with cow, but yanno. Whatever.”
Jack watched on with rapt attention, knowing she really SHOULDN’T be all that fascinated by the truly messy process. She was happy to see that her “Big Evil” was using the zip-up freezer bags she’d given him. Plus, it was just too priceless to watch Imam wander the house in search of the frequently-missing garbage bags, muttering to himself and shooing her out of the way occasionally to look in an obscure place.
*******
It’d been not-long-enough since the Hunter-Gratzner crash, since she’d met Riddick in the flesh. She could tell, the way you could tell an animal was sick, that he was starving. Just looking at him, all trussed up like a psychopathic Christmas tree with Johns in the background bragging about the all-too-easy capture…just looking at him, he looked weaker than a predator like he should be. She got the impression this guy didn’t eat salads.
The second he’d escaped and everyone went on the panic, she knew he’d be back. Nobody could survive a desert, already half starved and shaken, without some kinda nourishment. And when he’d been caught again, after whats-his-name got ripped to pieces, she’d dared to creepy down to the wreckage where he’d been chained. She offered up some of the rare bits of food they’d salvaged from the cargo hold- possibly the dumbest thing she’d ever done in her entire life, which said a lot- and he took it from her hand like a stray dog. Maybe it was the smartest thing- nobody wanted to bite the hand that fed, not even Riddick.
When he had been let free to wander on his leash, she’d watched him disappear over the rim of the crevice left by the Gratzner, supposedly “in search of unbroken water containers”…which she knew was a crock of shit. She followed him, trying desperately to be stealthy like only he could be. Fortunately- or unfortunately, for Riddick- he was so engrossed in eating as quickly as possible, he didn’t hear her coming. Thank god it was just her, too, because as soon as she saw his hands shoved wrist deep in the ruined, charred body of one of the other passengers, she squawked, hit the ground, and vomited. He was on her, quick as a snake, one jagged piece of metal poised to stab straight up into her throat, one bloody hand pinning her to the ground. He’d made her a promise, right then and there, that if she ever told anyone that she’d even seen him NEAR that body, he’d make her into a well tenderized sandwich.
The first words she could choke out of her constricted throat as he scaled the ridge again were, “Kay you’re…not..human, are you. Cuz yanno like. Cannibalistic people on earth got all kinds of diseases from doing that. And um. You’re just mentally sick, I think.”
Riddick ignored her.
*******
He’d intended to leave her on Helion Prime with Imam and disappear for awhile, but the thought of wronging someone who knew something about him that would send him straight to death row…displeased him. So Jack was to stay with Imam and go to school with the promise that if she did, he would stay nearby. But not with Imam. Imam was a vegetarian.
And now here he was, allowing her to watch him dismember somebody for the second time in her life while she held open a large garbage bag for him. As of yet, she;d only been able to bring herself to hold a beefsteak-like slab of muscle in the palm of her hand, still warm, before shuddering and tipping it into the bag. It was just as well- she really shouldn’t enjoy touching raw human produce.
He closed up the bag and shouldered it, nudging a stray eyeball out of the way so she could hoist herself up off the ground next to him. She ended up squishing it anyways, and he took off down the deserted alleyways while she wiped the goo off of her shoes. He had to love the people of Helion- when the sun “went off”, they went in, and nobody in the right minds was on the streets. Except rapists and other scumbags. (Of course, he though to himself, he wasn’t a scumbag. He was a garbage disposal.)
Jack scuffed along behind him, careful not to get to close to him lest he stop suddenly and she crash into the “take out bag”. She followed him until the streets and alleyways became familiar looking, his “territory”, and down into the maze of ruin and rubble that led to his…home. Considerably better than a tire dump, Riddick had taken up residence in one of the many failed subway stations of Helion. Like others before it, this particular train had crashed horrifically during a test run, and the station was left to decompose. Water now ran through it, from some unknown source, and light shone through a few cracks and holes in the ceiling, illuminating the organized chaos that was Riddick’s dragon cave. Complete, of course, with a few stray cats that stuck around when he was handing out scraps.
Jack paused to let her human eyes adjust to the darkness of the ruin, and by the time she could focus, Riddick had already banked a tiny fire and was delivering the more disgusting parts of the human body to the stray cats. They seemed happy enough, for eating what would normally own them, were they normal cats. Jack petted one as she passed to go sit by the fire, watching quietly while Riddick made his own meal out of tin foil and the hot coals in the fire. What wasn’t immediately used he left in the bag for later- the man could put away epic amounts of food in a day, if he had the chance.
Riddick was perfectly silent through the whole process, occasionally glancing at Jack to make absolutely certain she wasn’t about to run off and bring the National Guard. Finally, when there was nothing left to do but sit and wait for his dinner to cook, he allowed himself one small, contented sigh. Jack picked this as a cue to Start Talking.
“Hey yanno…I didn’t throw up this time. That’s good, right? I mean that I’m getting used to you doin weird shit all the time. Right?” She honestly didn’t expect a response out of him, and was pleasantly surprised when he nodded slowly. “So um. Do you think those cats are gonna be those kinda cats that eat their owners when they die? Like a little old lady kicks it and all her eight-thousand cats just have at her like a buffet? Cuz I mean…they know what human tastes like now.” She looked directly at him, obviously expecting a response, now that he’d encouraged her.
Riddick took a deep breath and let it out past his lips, massaging the knot of tension in his brow. “Jack…I..have no idea.” She frowned and turned to look at the cats, who were bathing placidly and falling asleep in weird positions. “Maybe they’ll skip the waiting part and just attack people on the street in hoards. Shit, I dunno.”
It took her a few seconds to realize that he had just attempted humor- one small step for man…..- and then she cracked a grin that grew broader when it prompted a very small smile from him. He took the foil wrapped meat from the fire, undaunted by the steaming metal, and wolfed it down with a certain measure of pride. He’d taken to picking off the ass-pimples of society- rapists, sociopaths, people like him- for his meals. This one was no exception- the guy’s parole officer was gonna shit a golden egg in the morning. He liked it that way. For now, he contented himself with his large meal until he was sated.
Jack opened her mouth and startled him out of a very light doze- she had been watching him attentively, which could have been extremely unnerving….were it not Jack.
“Hey. Wake up a sec.” He shot her a dirty look, eyes looking like a couple of splinters of silver. “Yea, yea, glare at me,” she went on, “So. If I die before you, which doesn’t seem all that likely-“
“Thanks, Jack.”
“-Shutup, trying to talk, here. Anyways, if I die first…you gotta promise me one thing, kay?”
“…what?” Riddick looked dubious, and rightfully so. Anything that could come out of Jack’s piehole next promised to make a cat fart audible.
“You gotta eat me. Seriously, like…that would be the best tribute ever. Just don’t eat my face. Got it?”
Riddick stared at her, and, if only to get her to shut the hell up and let him get some sleep and stop with the ridiculous suggestions, he nodded.
*******
Jack left him after that, winding her way back up to Imam’s, happy in knowing that someday, perhaps she would be a Shish-Kabob.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And there we have it. Jack, the ever heart warming and erm...eloquent.