1 - ALL GOOD THINGS

A safe house of Johns' procurement somewhere on Pegreno 3

Twin suns hung low in the afternoon sky as the sounds of children playing ball drifted through the cool air over Royce Batty Ballfield. Riddick stood behind a tiny catcher in the Umpire's position, breathing in the scent of freshly mown grass and the clean afternoon breeze. The day had gone well. The visions or hallucinations of the last week had ended as fast as they had begun.

"Play ball." he called out, and the bleachers filled with excited, and murmuring parents clapped, and cheered excitedly. A part of him loved his new life with Dahl; another part - the part he hid from everyone - felt guilty. He had finally found the normal life he had always wanted. But in the back of his mind, he knew it didn't belong to him. His life belonged to a man who didn't exist.

The pitcher stared intensely, swaying side to side, waiting for the signal as the catcher eyed the batter leaning deep into the plate. The catcher dropped two fingers, and the pitcher shook her head no and held her wind up. She refused the call. Again, the same signal came, two fingers down. The pitcher's eyebrows furrowed, cheeks flushed, and she said to herself in a barely audible voice, "You asked for it."

Out of the corner of Riddick's eye, he caught sight of a dark-haired woman dressed in tactical armor standing at the edge of the field with her back to Roddick. The woman's alluring frame looked far too familiar to forget. She spoke with someone on the sidelines. Her animated hands moved in wildly sweeping gestures. Why did no one seem to notice her? She obviously did not belong there. When Riddick shifted to the side, the woman vanished, leaving Luna standing at the fence line, waiting for the opening pitch.

The pitcher wound back as far as her narrow arm could stretch. Her arm swirled around and the furious underhand pitch rocketed towards the batter's face. The pitcher cringed; the batter leapt back, swinging wildly as the ball flew wild. Its thick hide skimmed the bat, tearing the thread off, sending the covering one way and the heavy core t. Riddick turned back to the game just in time to see a Galaxy of stars explode in his field of view.

A gasp descended over the field as he landed on his back, amid a wafting cloud of rising dirt and dust that blew towards first base.

When the stars cleared, Riddick did not know where he was, or why he was there. He sat on the edge of a child's single bed, staring down in confusion at a pink duvet cover. An unsteady hand followed a stream of white daisies leading outwards towards a tiny pink lamp on a nearby nightstand. A rainbow of half-used crayons littered the nightstand and a light-pink photo frame embossed with floating balloons surrounded a child's hand drawn picture depicting four characters holding hands beneath a vivid blue sky.

For a long moment, Riddick sat envying the characters for a life he knew would never be his. He hated its messages of unity, family and love. All the things he would never have. More than anything, Riddick wanted to be normal.

A line of neatly placed dolls sat atop a four-drawer burrow on the other side of the room. They smiled back at him as if in possession of a secret just out of his scope. He wanted to smash them, to make them look away. But they would not. Their frozen expressions increased his building sense of dread. Turning back to the nightstand, he noticed the inscription on the child's drawing read: Mommy, Daddy, Brother and Me. It didn't help.

He toppled the picture as if the act of not looking would curb the sickly sweet pang of guilt eating at his guts. A life that could have been; the life that should have been. A moth-eaten bed in an adjacent corner greeted him unkindly. It looked lonely and unused. Its long absent occupant had become a faded memory. He swallowed the lump in his throat, desperately wanting to get away. I'm not supposed to see this, he thought. The vacant mausoleum fueled his growing disorientation. What does this have to do with me?

The long abandoned bed languished in a lonely darkness. It spoke of unexpected loss and the never-ending grief left in its terrible wake. The curling posters, fading drawings and bygone sports pennants tacked above it patiently waited for a little boy who never returned. Riddick sat in silence, head hung low, wondering if this emptiness was his fault.

The half used coloring book on the bed-side table found its way into his trembling hands without his knowledge. He rang it out like a wet dishcloth, mindlessly hoping the act may cleanse the horrible visions plaguing his mind. But in his heart, Riddick knew whatever this was; it would not go away of its own accord. It wanted something from him and it would not release its hold until it had what it came for.

"Daddy," a little girl's voice came from beside him and he turned towards the voice with a gentle smile. "Yes, honey," he answered in a tone so tender it surprised him. She was beautiful. The most beautiful little girl he had ever seen. And he loved her, and she loved him.

"Will you read me a bedtime story?" the little girl asked, half tucked beneath the covers. The little girl's angelic face looked familiar.

The girl's eyes conveyed a contentment he'd long thought impossible. She was seven or eight, with long auburn hair and dazzling blue eyes that brought a smile to his face. "Yes, sweety." he said, not wanting to refuse such innocence. "What would you like me to read?"

The little girl pointed at the book in his hand and replied, "Will you read me the story of how it all began?"

Looking down, he found the coloring book had transformed. In its place was a black leather book embossed with a gold-leaf handprint shimmering on the front cover. The same handprint adorned his chest. He slowly opened the cover, studying the blank pages within, and asked, "Are you certain you want to hear this story?"

The little girl pointed to a giant mural taking shape over his shoulder. "Look daddy, she's almost here."

Turning toward her gesture, he saw a hand-painted mural on the bedroom wall beside the empty bed. It flickered to life like an old silent movie on a silver screen, revealing many kneeling figures in front of six golden pyramids pointing up at a blinding beam of blue light shooting from the top of the largest pyramid. The bluish stream of energy pierced the thick black clouds high above and vanished into the heavens far beyond. At the largest pyramid's enormous base, sat an obelisk exactly like the one he'd taken refuge beneath on Not Furya. The seven pedestals surrounding it emitted blue beams that struck the obelisk midway up.

Engrossed in the scene unfolding before him, Riddick was unaware the little girl had moved to his side and when she touched his hand, he reeled in surprise; He glared down at her as an unearthly blue energy contorted his body. The transformation had returned. He was a monster again. There would be no more hiding in the sun. Now he and Dahl would have to run.

Unfazed by his grotesque form before her, the little girl gripped his blackened hand tighter. She smiled up through doe-eyed. His dark nature subsided at her slightest touch. He was normal once more."Daddy," she began in an innocent tone. "I already know the story." Then, gesturing to a figure approaching the edge of the wall, her tone became ominous, "But you don't, daddy. You need to learn the story. You need to understand."

A woman stood at the opposite edge of the painting. Her hand broke through the surface, reaching outward to touch him. He knew from past encounters Shira's touch brought great pain, but to his surprise, when she touched him, nothing happened. Wiping the beads of sweat from his brow, she said, "Long have I watched you and long have you made me proud. You truly are the Riddick."

He stood, locked in her piercing gaze, waiting for an explanation; but none came. She just stood there smiling, half in the wall and half out. A hot, dry breeze blew across his face, leaving behind the faintest scent of arid landscape and parched soil beyond. Whatever world is in this painting, it is real.

In all their encounters; across the many times she had revealed herself to him, he had never spoken to her. But here, in this place, he could finally speak freely and the words poured from his lips as if a floodgate had ruptured. He had questions. 10 million questions. But she offered no answers, gave no clues.

She caressed his cheek. "The magic creating this connection shall only last a brief time. But if it is knowledge you seek, then go to him when he summons you. He will help you learn who you are. What you are."

Puzzled by her cryptic response, he reached up and took her hand. "Go to who?" he asked, trying to hold her there. But even then, he could feel her slowly slipping away. The magic faded, and he was powerless to stop it from going.

Shira drew herself back behind the edge of the wall, preparing to walk away, then stepped to the side as a mixture of hatred and rage contorted her features. She was terrifying.

A man cleared his throat behind Riddick. When he turned, he found the little girl sitting in the clutches of someone he long thought dead. A monster who had died at his hands.

"Zhylaw," he thought aloud, as a crimson sneer twisted his face. The name let slip an avalanche of pent-up emotions, causing his skin to darken like charring wood caught in a blue wildfire. Riddick oozed with fury and loathing. "I killed you." he spat his words like angry daggers.

Zhylaw looked to the full size mirror hanging on the back of the door, examined his pallid image in its dusty reflection as if checking out an old suit for signs of wear. "I can see how you might believe that." he said in an unimpressed tone. "However, as usual, you would be quite wrong; I'm no more dead than I am Zhylaw. Nor was I him the day we met."

Shira drew a knife from her belt as if preparing for battle and spat her question through the surface of the wall. "What do you want here, wretched demon?"

Zhylaw looked her over with some interest as his expression hinted at their storied past. "Oh Shira, did you actually believe you could conceal the Riddick from me here?" He absentmindedly squeezed the little girl tighter as the anger in his voice caused every muscle of his body to spasm.

Riddick reached down to grab the knife from his belt but came up empty. Zhylaw laughed as he picked up the knife lying on the floor beside him. He tossed it on the bed, pulled out a knife of his own and held it out, offering it to Riddick.

"Perhaps you would prefer this one?" he asked as a sarcastic smile crossed his face. "After all, it belongs to you."

Riddick didn't need to examine the knife to know its significance. He brazenly took it from Zhylaw and replied with a glint in his eyes, "I remember how good it felt to break this off in your skull." He spun the knife in his hand, mimicking their first encounter. "I see when you had it repaired, you fixed the balance."

Zhylaw took the knife off the bed, placed the tip against the little girl's soft pink neck, and smiled when Riddick tensed. He ran the blade down her side until it was touching her thin waist just above her right hip. Then he jabbed her just hard enough to make her cry out and laughed when he saw the fear in Riddick's eyes.

Riddick stood there, feet shoulder width apart, waiting for the chance to lash out. "What do you want?"

"What I have always wanted." Zhylaw said, eyes were wide and manic as his tone gave way to the evil lurking in his spirit. "I gave you the greatest army ever assembled, and what did you do with it? Not a damn thing. You use it as an excuse to get fat and lazy. So, I had to rouse you from your civilized slumber and make sure we..." he stressed the last word, "remembered our true nature."

Riddick scowled as if he were lying and said, "Magic tricks aside, what makes you think we're anything alike? And, just between you and me, you didn't give me shit. As I remember it, I fucking took your army."

Zhylaw laughed at him as if he was a clueless idiot. "Is that how you choose to remember it, boy? While it's true, you struck the final blow that ended this meat suit forever. I also recall, my self-imposed defeat was the doing of Vaako."

"Self-imposed, huh?" Riddick said with a smirk. "You looked like everyone else who is about to buy it. You were shitting in your armor."

Zhylaw smiled, his head tilted to the side, and he said, "One must play one's part."

"Uh, huh."

"Trust me." Zhylaw said, as his thin veneer of civility covering his scowl gave way momentarily. "When I say you only took possession of the Necromongers because I labored tirelessly to make it so. I mean just that."

Riddick let out a sarcastic laugh and the deep reverberations rumbled through the painting behind him like thunder in the heavens, and when it stopped, the silence left in its wake made everyone in the distance turn and look.

Zhylaw saw the mass staring up at them and made a lewd hand gesture. He put his hand down and said, "Young lady, do not let me hear of you repeating that gesture."

When the little girl said nothing in response, he said, "Just tell me what you want."

Zhylaw held out his arm for inspection as if showing off an expensive jacket. But it was not his attire he wanted Riddick to look at. "Long ago, I gave you something and now, I either want it back to complete my destiny or…" he smiled cordially. "or you can fulfill our destinies for the both of us."

"Listen, Necro scum. There is no us or our, or we, or any other goddamn thing between us. You got that." Riddick fumed. The tendons in his hand creaked as he gripped the knife with enough force to send up an eerie blue ash cloud that drifted through the wall and up into the air. The crowd in the distance fell to their knees and bowed. He was unaware. "What is it, you think you gave me?" he asked, his skin returning to normal.

"You see this cheap suit of armor I wear and think you see me, but you do not. I am the formless shadow whispering in the darkness, the spectre that haunts dreams and invades thought. And, these manikins," Zhylaw spat his last two words as if they tasted rancid, "are little more than empty vessels used to aid me in spreading my influence." Zhylaw looked from his own arm to Riddick and added, "Long have I coveted what you possess and long have I labored to make it mine, once more."

"Vessels," Riddick said to himself as the events in the back alley on Helion 4 replayed in his mind. Poole and Bauman had called Vaako a vessel. He suddenly wished he had paid better attention in the alley. When Riddick's thoughts returned to the little girl and the room, he found her sitting in Vaako's lap. Zhylaw had vanished and in his place sat Siberious Vaako. The newest Necromonger Lord Marshal.

"Yes," Vaako replied. His expression exuded a sense of self-righteous superiority. "And like all vessels. If one breaks, I can easily replace it with another and so I have... since the beginning of time. The minds of men are pliable and I mold their desires to my will."

"If you're not Zhylaw, then you're obviously not Vaako, either. So, who the hell are you?"

"As you wish." Vaako said and grinned at himself in the mirror. He picked the knife off the bed, pressed the tip into the soft flesh just above his left ear, dragged the tip up and along his hairline until it reached the top of his right ear. The ripping flesh sounded like an opening zipper. "Remember, you asked for this." he warned, grabbing the loose flap of skin hanging from just below his hairline and peeled the flesh covering his face down exposing the skull beneath. A shower of blue blood poured over the little girl, and she cried out in terror. His fiery skull morphed into a likeness Riddick knew all too well. "Do you like the inner me?"

Riddick stared at him and said, "You're a good lookin' guy. But I didn't know you were a comedian too."

He tossed Vaako's bloody face at Riddick's feet; it hit the floor with a sloppy squish and burst into blue flames that hissed and fizzled. "You asked. I showed. If you didn't want the answer; perhaps, you shouldn't ask so many questions."

Riddick boldly reached down, picked up the flaming skin lying at his feet, and threw it at him. Vaako snatched it out of the air before it hit the girl. "Put that back on before I separate your head from your shoulders."

Vaako slid the smoking skin back into position, wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve, and became Zhylaw once more. "You'd find it easier to kill a dream." he replied, pointing to the lonely bed sitting in the darkness. "You play in the shadows like you understand the darkness. But you are ignorant of your gifts." He took the drawing off the nightstand and threw it at Riddick's feet. "I am no more a figment of your imagination than I am a construct of being hit in the head with a ball, and I can enter your mind whenever I like."

"Prove it." Riddick countered, "Tell me something I couldn't possibly know."

Zhylaw's terrifying expression became wild-eyed and manic again. "And so you ask another question without considering the outcome. Fine, I'll tell you something you won't believe and leave you with something you cannot deny." He hugged the little girl tightly and said, "She didn't really die, you know. I know you think she did, but she lives and l have her, and if you want her back, you're going to have to come get her for yourself. You are going to have to come face me again."

Riddick's entire body became a blue inferno that scorched the ceiling above. "Who's not dead?"

Zhylaw pointed at the frame at his feet and replied, "Why, Kera, of course. The woman you lead straight to me." He caressed the little girl's hair and said, "The child you raised to be a killer, just like yourself. The child you abandoned in need just to fulfill your own selfish desire for vengeance. And for what? Here I am, still very fucking much alive and very much in control."

"YOU LIE!" he screamed.

"Do I," Zhylaw countered matter-of-factly. He pointed down at the picture frame once more, then a look of disgust spread across his face. "And I had such high hopes for you. But you let us both down. You are my biggest disappointment." He turned to Shira and said, "I blame you for that disappointment."

"And I blame you for everything."

"I will end you."

"No doubt. You were always weak." Zhylaw continued, ignoring his threat. "That is why I set alternate plans in motion." He gestured to Riddick and added, "Just in case you screwed shit up. If I'm honest, we have a tendency to do that from time to time. But alas, I cannot hold that against you. I blame our darker natures."

Riddick peered at the frame on the floor, saw the three children standing on the orphanage steps and remembered his encounter with Martin on Helion 4. "So, we finally meet. Someone told me you've been looking for me for quite a while."

"No." Zhylaw said, "You had a friend. If you remember right, you let him die the night you tried running away; the night you left Ginger dead in a frozen puddle; the night you let them all die so you could go off in search of a normal life."

"I didn't let anyone die." Riddick replied. "That never happened."

"Changing the timeline does not erase the fact you ran away knowing they were all going to die." Vaako replied, waving him off with a dismissive smirk.

"He made his choice. I made mine."

"How convenient so many choose a path that ends in their own demise shortly after meeting you."

"Screw you."

"No matter. Your transformation shall soon be complete. And when that happens, this galaxy, this Universe, all Universes... shall never be the same."

"You don't control me." He said, taking a step closer.

"Do you miss her? Your precious little Kera." He said, jabbing the little girl with the point of his knife again.

"YOU KILLED HER! NOT ME!"

"And what of your precious Breanna, who killed her, if not you?" he said, picking up the drawing and tossing it at his feet. "Who killed your dreams of having the perfect family? I mean really, why come here; to a room with a doe-eyed little girl, her missing brother and a dumbstruck wife who can't even remember what you look like?"

Riddick's head dropped, and he said, "Just tell me what you want."

Vaako turned to the little girl and asked, "You're going to have to make a choice. Either kill someone for me or run away knowing everyone you hold dearest will pay the price for your rebellion."

"Kill who?"

"All things in due time." He answered, raising his hand abruptly and shaking his head. "Before offering another snide response, let me assure you, you will love the hunt."

Shira stood on the opposite side of the wall, knife at the ready and said, "Have you no mercy, demon. Can you not leave us in peace?"

Vaako let the little girl go, following her as she ran to hide behind Riddick. "My dearest wife, you... more than any other of my Father's creations, should know mercy is not a trait he instilled in his eldest son." He turned to Riddick with a blank stare and said, "We are the first of our kind. We hide in the shadows listening to old sinners confess and babes cry in the night, and I am ..."

Something swung over Riddick's shoulder, plunged deep into Vaako's neck, and he fell to the floor, writhing in pain. He tore the serrated blade from his spurting neck, dropped it at Riddick's feet as torrents of blood poured from his mouth. "Oh, how long you must have wanted to do that, my love." Vaako gurgled. "But not even your blade can prevent the Riddick from fulfilling his true destiny. He will be mine."

When Riddick turned around, he found the little girl standing wrapped in Shira's arms on the other side of the wall. Shira looked down at Vaako through squinted eyes. "So you may think. But you know nothing of destiny, my love." Her last words carried all the anger of a slap to the face.

"Perhaps." Vaako said, clinching the side of his neck. He reached out, grabbed Riddick by the leg with a bloody hand and sneered up. "We shall meet again. And when we do, you'll never expect what happens next."

"I'll be waiting."

Vaako laughed, eyes closing. "Go, take the gifts of proof I leave you and try to hide in the light as long as you can. But don't fool yourself, I am always watching and I am always with you."

Riddick's eyes opened wide. He heard a voice in the distance shout. "Get a doctor."

When his faculties returned, he lay on his back with his head in Dahl's lap. She stared down with tears in her eyes. "It's ok; you took a foul ball to the head."

"I'm ok," he said, trying to roll over to get to his feet. "Just help me up."

A teenage girl wearing a batter's helmet and a baseball uniform stood over him. "I'm sorry."

Riddick dusted himself off. "It's ok Liza. I'm fine."

Dahl rose to her feet, looking around apologetically at the group of girls and parents surrounding them. "I'm not feeling so hot myself. Can we stop for the day? I'd like to go lay down."

Liza winked at her when Riddick wasn't aware. "That's ok, we can finish the game later."

"Thanks," Dahl replied with a covert nod.

After they walked far enough away from the field to ensure no one would overhear their conversation, Dahl turned to Riddick and asked, "Was it the same little girl?"

"Yes and no," he said, rubbing his pounding head. "But let's not talk about it now. I just want to get home."

Dahl nodded, saying nothing more, and they walked home, hand in hand. She knew all too well. When the visions came, the experience wiped him out for a few hours. She also realized the visions were coming more frequently than they had ever come before, and that frightened her more than she let on.

When they arrived home, Riddick went into the bedroom, laid down on the spacious bed, and drifted off to sleep. Dahl went in a little while later, sat in the window seat on the other side of the room and pretended to read a book entitled, 'The Rangers of Sigma 3.' But she really only picked up the book as an excuse to stay in the room as he slept. When she was certain Riddick was OK, she got undressed and slid into bed beside him, unable to shake the feeling everything was about to change.