You Ain't Afraid of the Dark, Are ya?

Today’s trans alien of the day is:

                                          Richard B. Riddick

((Obviously, lots of trigger warnings here so please be careful - Violence tw, death tw, killing tw, physical abuse tw, blood tw))

“Is that blood?!”

“You didn’t have to kill them!”

“Your car is dented, who did you hit?!”

“I could always just kill them…”

“Why are your knuckles bruised?”

“Just go! I’ll clean up this mess.“ 

“You busted my lip!”

“You clean up, I’ll hide the body.”

“They deserved it.”

“Dont you dare hit me!“ 

“I liked killing them.”

“Oh God, there’s so much blood!“ 

“Don’t be a baby, I only kicked you in the balls.”

“Kill them! Go on!“ 

“Who gave you that black eye?!”

“They died happy at least.“ 

“Do you want me to hit you?!“ 

“Get rid of them and I promise I’ll never bother you again.“ 

“I’ll kill you, I swear!“ 

“They were trying to kill me! I had to defend myself!”

“I’ll kill every last one of them.“ 

“Ow! I think you’ve broken my arm!”

“I’ll fight beside you.“ 

“Are you burning a body?”

“I was protecting you!”

“Don’t be alarmed, but I may have just run a guy over.”

“Have you ever killed anyone before? Be truthful.”

“It was an accident!”

“Well, you should’ve thought about that before you hit them with your car!”

“Burn the body and lets go.”

“I’m glad they’re dead!”

“They’re not going to make it.”

“Don’t you dare die on me!”

“I had to do it.”

“I killed them so we can be together, don’t you see that?”

“I may or may not have a dead person in my basement.”

The Commander jumped slightly at being suddenly spoken to since the room had been rather quiet only moments before. Everything about this man did not sit well with Vaako, still distrustful of the breeder.

Idly he lifted a hand to touch one of the cuts that sliced his lower lip open, only now patched enough to keep from bleeding even with speaking. He probably looked a sight considering even one of his braids had been cut and was now faintly unfurling behind him, his right eye darker than usual pale skin.

He probably looked closer to an old inmate at a jail than a Necromonger lord.

He just stares at the guy. Pretty. The things he could do to a mouth like that.

Or he could just kill him and have it over with. Cut that blood with some schnappes.

However, his PADD beeped to tell him the low-level scan had finished. All of the data his bugs had picked up had been transferred, and he could take something useful back to command. Nobody could touch this ship, and the fact that Jim had found an ‘in’ had been something of a miracle.

He'd wait until Pretty was close enough and then tackle him. Maybe drag him into his little flower shuttle-thing and find out what the fuck was really goin' on.

The hallways were silent, it was mid-way into Alpha shift and most of the Necros were doin' whatever it is the deadite fuckers did. Riddick didn't give two shits. He didn't pay 'em any mind so long as they weren't attempting to shove something between his ribs.

And then the moment presented itself and he had a clear shot. With a practiced grace, the newly crowned Lord Marshal launched himself at the pretty thing and rolled them a few times on the floor. Grinning wickedly, he began dragging the man into the shuttle.

The underverse certainly hadn’t been the paradise they made it out to be. It was grueling and grey. It was never comfortable, always too hot or too cold. Of course you were already dead so the intensity of it didn’t matter. At first, you couldn’t function, the body thought it was freeze or burn to death but after you lay in one stop long enough you become accustomed enough to function. 

There was no sun, but there was always light, what looked like clouds greyed the sky. Everything was made from a hard grey stone, the terrain was mountainous, but where the ground was level only a fine sand. There was ONE city, ruled by the Supreme Lord Marshal, they say he was the first and the oldest. Outside the city, lived wraiths ready to feed on the entrophic energy of those who come to the city. The city itself was a massive hard metal metropolis quite obviously built by Necromongers. She’d felt a strong pull towards it, but that only made her reject it. She was going back, this…would drive her insane. 

It had taken a lot for her, pushing against the repulsion she felt and the closer she got to from wince she came, the stronger it got. After a while it was the only thing she focused on, she didn’t even know why she pulled away from her draw towards the city, but eventually her stubbornness was rewarded. 

He'd have trained her up right. Made a proper killer out of her. Made her in his own image.

It had been why he'd hightailed it off that fuckin' rock and gone off to that fuckin' ice ball to suffer for five, long years. Why he'd left her in Imam's capable hands. Because she deserved better. She deserved to be like Carolyn...

Not dead.

Except she was like Carolyn. And Imam. And every other fucker he'd ever entertained thoughts of letting survive. People didn't live long around him. He was a cancer. He was a blight.

He was a one-man slaughter-fest.

But that voice, it cut through him like that fuckin' wine the Necros were so fond of. And he paused, glass midway to his lips.

“Right.” He answered with a dry tone, nodding slowly as his eyes wandered down the Lord Marshal’s naked bulky form. “The smell still lingers and before the servants invade the privacy of my Lord, it would be wise if come here right away.” 

Vaako’s eyes left the man’s body and turned, letting the robe slip. Reaching for the band securing his hair in place, he removed it, leaving ebony strands fall over his shoulders. The water was hot as he let himself sink into the warm water. Its warmth made the coldness that his skin prickle, colouring his flesh in a pale shade of pink.

And with his Beautiful looking like a creature born of the water, soaking like that, Riddick growled and closed the distance.

Who’s the better killer?

                           it’s my favorite game

Slowly turning to meet those silvery eyes, the shine visible despite the barely lit room. A few strands of hair fell in face and he blew them away. “I am not bitching.” He said with a roll of his eyes as he rose to his feet, pulling on a robe. Making his way to the entrance of the Lord Marshal’s chambers, he opened the door.

“My Lord?” A guard asked. Siberius swore he could see the older man’s cheek turn red.

“Get us a servant. The Lord Marshal requires his chambers need to be cleanse.” He ordered and closed the door to go back to where Riddick stood now, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, naked. Although the dark room made it difficult for him to see, he was able to see the outline of the man’s massive frame. Unconciously licking his lips, Siberius strode passed his Lord Marshal to stand in the light of the large bathroom. All the while, he felt Riddick’s powerful stare and it made the Necromonger sigh. 

There was a single exception to that, of course. And Riddick was watching that exception heatedly. Slowly rolling to his feet, heedless of his nudity, he stalked after Beautiful and into the bathroom.