Title: untitled somewhat - Riddick pondering sun and his future shinejob
Author: Blackbirch
Rating: PG upwards due to hints of violence
Fandom: Pitch Black canon setting in Slam before the movie
Pairing: none
Wordcount: 273
Feedback: Yes please. Any kind you can give me.
Archiving: No. I repeat - no.
Disclaimer: All characters are copyright of their originators. No infringement intended, no profit made.
Story Notes: raynedanser wanted 1000 comments, I thought I’d help out. Originally posted August 1st, 2007

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The metal is biting into his wrists, the fuckers screwed them on too tight again, and its not the pain he’s worried about. It’s the fear of ending up having his wrists fucked up, his arms sloppy and fumbling. In here you need all your edges sharp and ready and his hands are weapons in their own right. But infection or broken bones … Perhaps one of the guards had a beef with him. It’s not like he could keep up with their faces, he just remembers their screams and the crunching sounds their bones make whenever they leave an opening for him to take.

The sweat is pearling on the good doctor’s forhead and he smells like fear and excitement. Perhaps he worries what his masters would do to him if they found out? Maybe he worries about me? He shouldn’t. Not yet. For him - I’m harmless. After he’s cut into my eyes, then we’ll see. It depends on his delivery. If I like it or not.

Somtimes I wonder whether I’ll miss seeing the sun. It’s not like I see much of it down here in this godforsaken pit as it is. And there are so many of them - black holes they’re eager to throw the garbage into. Hide it from the shiny surface and throw away the key.

It won’t work. Darkness hides many things.

I will shiv my way into their lives, deep into so much red its almost black. Copper on my tongue, blood on my hands. Taint their pretty cities with my sticky fingers and then we’ll see if I care about the sun anymore.