Disclaimer: All characters pertaining to Pitch Black belong to USA Films.

Not Afraid of the Dark (Part 1)

Shazrolane

"Let me see your eyes, Riddick", she said.

He grinned slyly, but he kept his head down, and his eyes were still shut. A glaring bar of sunlight fell across his face whenever he lifted it, and even the shadows were too meager for his liking, but right now he figured she couldn't see his face for shit.

"Let me see your eyes!" she demanded, again.

"You'd have to come a lot closer for that."

He wished he could see the effect his gravelly voice had on her, but he had to rely on his other senses. He could hear the floor creaking as she shifted her weight, the brush of her hands across her pants' legs as she wiped palms suddenly gone sweaty. He could smell the sharp, acrid smell of fear. Oh, he knew that smell well! One step, then two. The slight currents caused by her movement brushed against his skin. She stopped, a safe distance away.

"Closer."

Another step, and another. He gathered himself to strike, leg muscles tensing while keeping the upper torso as still as before. He judged the distance as well as he could from the sounds and the air currents. When the time was right, he uncoiled, the tension built up in his leg muscles releasing in a sudden snap. He stopped himself just short of her, as if the chains had held him. She had flinched, at first, but now she held her ground and stared up at him. Interesting. She had been frightened when she had the time to be, but when the cards were up, she was all business. She had a lot of guts, that was sure, as well as that strong survival instinct. Slowly he raised his eyelids until he was looking at her. He knew that the light from the break in the ship’s wall would be reflecting back at her, turning his eyes the silver-black color of hematite. Their eyes locked, and he could feel a different sort of tension start to build.

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“Strange, not doin’ a run-up on the main drive yet” He stood at the entrance to the cockpit, filling the door way and blocking any chance she had of escape. ȁThat is, unless he told you the particulars of my escape.”

“I got the quick and dirty version” she said, impressed with his sharp intelligence. She looked at him, meeting his goggled eyes for the first time since their encounter in the crashed passenger ship. He could see her breathing increase.

“And now you’re worried about history repeating?”

“It crossed our minds.”

He stepped closer, one long stride that ate up most of the distance between them. ȁI asked what you thought.”

“You scare me, Riddick. Is that what you want to hear? You scare me, ok? I admit it. I need to get back to work now.” She turned her back on him and busied herself with checking the instruments.

Talk about guts. Turning her back on a known killer like that took either stupidity, or some courage, and he’d seen enough to know that she wasn’t stupid. He admired her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to fuck with her brain.

“Think Johns is a do-right man?” His breath suddenly brushed against neck, where she had expected to feel his knife at any minute. She flinched, then controlled herself again. Conflicting emotions whirled around in her head.

His mouth brushed against her on the other side of her neck as he spoke softly, almost in a whisper. ȁNow, if it was trickeration guess he’d just X me out. Then again, I am worth twice as much alive. Didn’t know? He ain’t a cop.”

He pushed her chair around so she faced him and crouched down so their were eye-to-eye. ȁHe’s just a merc, and I’m just a payday. The creed, is greed…”

“Stow it Riddick! We aren’t going to turn on each other, no matter how hard you try!”

Never mentioned turning on each other, he noted with wry amusement. He pressed closer, touching her body, bringing his goggled face inches away from hers. He could feel her body respond slightly, see it in her face. He held himself there for a moment longer, letting it build, feeling his own body starting to reply.

“Once the Big Dyin’ starts, this psycho-fuck family of ours is going to rip itself apart. So you better find out the truth - when it all goes dark, you’d better know exactly who’s standin’ behind you.”

The computer finished its test and called out “Hull integrity 100%.” He straightened up and took a step back, as she slowly exhaled.

“Oh, and ask him ‘bout those shakes. Ask him why your crew-pal had to scream like that ‘fore he died,” he said as he watched her stumble out. Following her path across the yard with his eyes, he wondered if fucking with her body would be half as much fun as fucking with her head.

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Earlier…

Crouched in the cathedral-like skull of the beast, he made a weapon. It was almost like reshaping a part of himself, chipping away parts of the bone until the finished piece was as sharp as his anger. The act of making a shiv was beautiful to him, the control, the delicate balance and touch needed to shape and unleash the blade within. Life had also taught him it was necessary for survival. Arm yourself first, worry about other things later.

He had his knowledge of combat and other martial skills, his intelligence, and his sheer will to survive, no matter what. Add to those the knife, and he was a match for Johns and the gauge. His eyes were definitely going to be a liability on this fucking wasteland of a planet, but he figured his training in hostile environments evened things out against the merc, who was hopelessly lost outside of the cities that were his preferred habitat. Next, he needed water, and some O2. Everything else was secondary to survival at this point, and he would worry about them later.

Noises from the dune ridge. Dammit, they had reached the skeletons faster than he had anticipated. Most times, people shacked up and stayed put when they knew a murderer was on the loose; guess Johns had roused them to go hunting. Or maybe they were smarter than most and realized that they were shit out of luck with the ship leaking its supply of water out onto the sand. He’d managed a few swallows from where the moisture was running down the wall, but with the bit still in his mouth at the time it’d been difficult and he hadn’t gotten as much as he would have liked. They hadn’t gotten even that.

He had scouted the location prior to making the shiv. The skull was the only cover, and the only shade in the area. He’d been careful to leave few tracks, and Johns couldn’t have tracked the beast whose bones littered the landscape, much less Riddick. That, combined with the noise they were making, told him they didn’t know he was here, at least not yet. He looked up and around, and found it - a crevice in the skull, large enough to hold him out of sight, but small enough to wedge himself into. Ignoring the agony in his recently dislocated shoulders, he pulled himself into place and locked his muscles into immobility.

Johns eventually found the bone chips, of course. For all his hatred of the bastard, Riddick wasn’t blinded enough to think Johns was stupid. Obsessed, addicted, and a hell of a lot more evil than he made Riddick out to be, but not stupid. The Captain came in at Johns’ call and looked at the shards.

“Big Evil is around here somewhere, I can feel it,” Johns said. A sardonic smile spread on shadowed lips. If only you knew. The bastard never came quite into position - if Riddick dropped, he’d miss Johns in that first, crucial moment. The woman would factor into the fight, as well, and she was an unknown quantity. Johns he knew, so well that he could plot out most of the imaginary fight in the skull, but she could throw his calculations off.

The bounty hunter left after a cursory inspection to go harass the Muslims. The woman paused to change tanks on her O2. That he wanted pretty damn badly, but he couldn’t get it from her quietly enough to avoid attracting the attention of the others. Not without killing her. If Johns came back in and found her body, he’d know for sure that Riddick was here. He’d raise an alarm, and the Muslims would get involved, or run and tell the others. Either way, the O2 would be harder to get. Besides, he found himself curiously reluctant to kill her. Yeah, she was attractive - hell, what female wouldn’t be, at this point, but that normally wouldn’t factor into things. There was something else going on here, and he wanted to find out what it was.

She exited, and after a few more seconds, he lowered himself to the ground, as smoothly and as quietly as a python slithering down from a tree. The Captain and Johns were talking just outside, and he stalked over to hear them. Johns offered her a drink. She said something alcohol dehydrating you even more, but she took a swallow anyway. Riddick glided forward, his shiv inches from her neck. Just then, she took a step away from the skull. Shit he fumed. But he wasn’t about to leave until he got what he wanted.

Johns had noticed the same thing Riddick had. ȁNever seen a Captain so ready to leave her ship”. With a few more sentences he had her hooked and started reeling her in, slowly pulling the confession out of her. Slick. Riddick almost would have admired the skill Johns showed, if it hadn’t pissed him off so much. The last thing he wanted to hear was their alcoholic bonding. He moved closer, waiting for the moment when she leaned back against the skull. He studied the back of her neck, the place where it joined her skull. There’s a definite sexual part to the shiv sliding so intimately along bone and tissue, finding the secret dark places of someone’s brain…the blood spilling over your hand as if, in death, they shared their life with you’ he thought to himself, almost dreamily.

A part of him was still listening to the conversation, and he snapped back into focus as she admitted to almost dumping the passenger cabin during the descent. No wonder why I like her, he thought, she’s got the makings of a mass murderer. At that moment, he saw his opening and struck like a snake with his usual precision. A lock of hair came away in his hand as Fry walked away. He breathed in her scent - he’d know her now, by smell as well as sight.

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“Just come with me!” she yelled in the rain.

“Got a better idea. Why don’t you come with me?” He stood in the skiff, loading door open. She stood at the bottom, exhausted, her determination wavering.

“C’mon, Carolyn, step aboard.” He stepped down onto the ramp and extended his hand to her. “Here, I’ll make it easy for you”. What surprised him was that he really wanted her to come.

She sat down in the mud, crying. That survival instinct he so admired was warring with her promise to go back for the others. He knew they were already dead - they might not know it yet, but they were going to be eaten and then turned into shit and nothing could change that. Part of him resisted that cold calculation, wanted to go back for them, but the animal brain snarled and fought back. Survive!! It was the only creed, the only thing that had gotten him through. She knew the power of that ancient call, too, the will of the body to go on living and screw the rest of the species. Evolution at its best, baby. And evolution had one other major rule. Find a mate. But that was for later. First, they both had to get out of Hell.

But the human brain still had control of her. ȁI can’t, I can’t” she sobbed, “I promised them.”

He walked down the ramp and picked her up by the arms. ȁNo one’s gonna blame you. They’re already dead. Save yourself, Carolyn.” She leaned against him and let him half carry her onto the ramp, safe in his strong arms.

Halfway up the ramp the human brain triumphed. With a yell of fear and exhaustion and anger and desperation, she turned and shoved, hard enough to push him back. The slope worked against him and he went down hard in the mud. The weak air, the labor of pulling first the heavily loaded sled and then the power cells, his unhealed injuries - all came back to haunt him. His reactions were slowed enough that she reached him before he could regain his feet. She straddled him, her hands against his throat, hard. He lay in the driving rain, feeling her body against his, watching and feeling as she took control of herself. She kept managing to surprise him, something very people were able to do. The rain continued to pour down, washing the slickness of sweat and blood off of them.

“I AM the Captain of this ship! And I will not give up on them, you asshole!”

So quickly it might as well have been one movement, Riddick pushed her off of his chest, rolled on top of her in a crouch and held the shiv against her throat. His legs trapped her body, but he supported most of his body weight with his right hand, leaving his left free to wield the knife. He dwarfed her, looming over her so his body blocked out the light from the skiff, leaving her face in shadow.

“You would die for them?” he asked softly, studying her face.

“I would try for them” she replied.

“You didn’t answer my question, Carolyn”.

“Yes! I would die for them!” she yelled.

“Interesting” he purred, his face close to hers.