Shooting the Breeze |
by CCL |
Riddick sighed. It had been
a hellish few weeks. Between Jules, Ardath, and then suddenly CC jumping
on the bandwagon, all he'd gotten was a huge migraine, a horrific
introduction to babysitting, and CC sucking him into her terrifying
alternate universe. And Lilith was helping! "Damn writers.
Psychotic women with a mean creative streak." He lowered the ramp on the
skiff and walked out into the brisk night. Instinctively he flexed his
muscles to battle the slight chill and ambled towards the door of the
somewhat spacious house. He never saw the glowing yellow eyes watching his
every move. 'Whose house is this
anyway?' Shelving that thought for a
moment he tried the door and found it was open. The sound of loud
Aerosmith music and other similar gravelly voices caught his attention and
Riddick decided to seek them out. He wandered through the
kitchen and dining area, noticing several empty bottles of Icehouse and
Corona's littering the floor. When he rounded the last corner into the
living room, he saw his friends. "Riddick!" "Chris. Dom. What's
up?" Chris stood in a corner,
dressed casually in some jeans and nice dress shirt. He held the pool
stick in one hand with his other wrapped firmly around a new Icehouse. The
ex-broker looked tired; he barely even smiled as Riddick entered. Dom, on
the other hand, seemed to have a bit of spring in his step. He stretched
fluidly to take his shot on the eight ball in the corner pocket and
laughed when it dropped. "Ha! That's three
games to none, Chris. And you thought you almost had me. You never had
me!" Chris groaned and went to
the small wet bar in the corner of the room. Riddick only chuckled and
moved to follow the young man. He watched Chris drop down in the chair and
casually flopped in the one right next to it. Maybe his week hadn't been
so bad after all. "Troubles,
Chris?" "Yo, Riddick!" He turned to look at the
street racer standing at the end of the pool table, arms outstretched and
silver cross twinkling with the reflecting of the light. His mind began to
churn out the lilting tune. 'Tinkle, tinkle wittle
star...' Riddick's face crumpled and
he covered his goggled eyes with the heels of his hands, muttering a curse
at the memory. "Fuck!" Dom heard the obscenity and
arched an eyebrow in question. "I don't think they've
done that to us yet, have they?" The trio laughed and
Riddick slowly began to relax. Finally he was in the company of his own.
Guys that could understand his frustration with these insane women and
their creative tendencies that bordered on the strange, unique and at
times utterly perverse. "No, Dom. I don't
think so. But have you checked the boards? If they got me babysitting, who
the hell knows what they'll think of next? And what the fuck did you want
anyway? You called me for something..." "No, they haven't
slashed us. At least... not with each other. But RedSith is getting close!
And I was asking if you felt up for a game." Riddick could only blink in
confusion at the collection of small spheres on the large rectangle.
'Game? What the hell kind of game is this?' Shrugging he stood and walked
over to examine the table more closely. "Yeah I heard she'd
slashed you and Brian. So how's that working out for you? And what the
hell is the point of this game?" Dom chuckled and proceeded
to rack the balls and position them appropriately. He grabbed up his stick
and moved to the opposite end where Riddick stood. If possible the man
grinned even wider as he spoke of his lovers. "Well the whole love
triangle possibilities are endless. I'll die if the two of them end up
giving me an ultimatum though. They're both pretty great." Chancing a glance at Chris,
who was mindlessly peeling the label off his Icehouse, he barked at the
man, making him jump. "Chris, hand the man
your stick since you seem to be having your pity party all alone. Let me
show Riddick here how to play eight ball." Chris grumbled under his
breath before handing over the long piece of polished wood. Shrugging
Riddick accepted the offer and jumped at the loud crack that overruled the
loud metal music. "What the fuck was
that????" Riddick noticed that the
once ordered triangle of balls were now scattered along the felt-covered
slate and Dom was stretched out again, aiming his stick at one of the
balls. With a sharp thrust of his hand, the stick impacted the target and
sent it flying into another ball which dropped into a pocket of sorts at
the corner of the table. "See? It's real
simple, Riddick. You just aim at the cue ball with the stick. Line that
ball up with the ball you want to hit. And then try to figure out the
angle to use and make the target ball drop in a pocket. You've got
solids." His speech complete, Dom
circled the table and prepared for another shot, never seeing Riddick's
look of confusion. "Dom, you wanna say
that again in English?" Chris absently stood and
walked up behind Riddick to place a light hand on the man's shoulder. His
sigh startled the convict and again Riddick jumped away. "Fuck, Chris! Don't
sneak up on me like that!" "Sorry man, I wasn't
thinking. Guess CC's kid really got to you, huh? Listen. This is easy. You
just hit the white ball into the solid colored balls to try and put them
in the pocket. No big deal." "Colors?" Dom stopped mid-shot and
looked up at the other men. "What does he mean,
'Colors?' Chris?" Groaning in exasperation,
Chris ran a hand over his mouth and jaw. "He's got a fucking
shine job man. His eyes are all silvery and shit. He probably can't even
tell the difference between the stripes and solids. Much less the colors
to aim at. Screw it. I'll play you again." He traded his Icehouse for
the stick in Riddick's hand and the murderer just let the broker take
over. From what he'd heard, the kid had been having a rough time of it
anyways. "Fine with me, Chris.
Prepare to have your ass handed to you again!! So, Riddick, I heard you've
been getting some fairly decent action lately. Care to share?" "I'm sure Letty filled
you in already, Dom" "Yeah, well she said
the kid was an angel after you left. Guess you just bring out the worst in
kids, huh?" "No. CC thinks I've
had it too easy and decided to torture me a different way. Besides. She
was still a bit miffed at a few other things folks have been doing with me
lately. She figured this would grab everybody's attention and make them
feel sorry for me... her... hell, I dunno! The point is she's about ready
to spit nails and I can't say that I don't agree. You know what I'm
talking about, Chris." The broker sighed again. "Yeah. Boy do I! I
mean, tell me. What's wrong with me? Do I have angst tattooed on me
somewhere? Why can't I ever get the really smutty fics and rps?? And when
I do manage to get the smutty ones... they're slash! Do I look that damn
slashable???" Riddick gave the guy a firm
clap on the back and nodded in sympathy. After all they shared the same
slash partner. Well... at least one of the same slash partners. 'Note to
self to investigate that slash report on me and Johns.' He involuntarily
shivered, before focusing back on the street racer who was doing a great
job of pocketing the balls in rapid succession. When the racer finally
missed an easy shot on the fourteen ball, he walked to stand next to
Riddick, his taunts filling the lull in the conversation. "Who'd they slash you
with, Chris?? Seth? Oh wait. Don't tell me. It was that asshole, Greg,
right??" "Maul," came the
chorused reply. "Maul? Who the fuck is
Maul? And why'd you both answer??" "It's like this, Dom.
Riddick and I both got introduced to Maul courtesy of RedSith. I'm sure
it's only a matter of time before she introduces you to him. Specially
since she wasted no time pairing you with Brian." "Well yeah, but she
gave me Letty too! Serial Hag is the one that's got me confused. I'm with
Letty... but I'm flirting with Dallas' sister? What the fuck? And you
still haven't told me who this Maul guy is! What's he look like?" When Dom missed his next
shot, Chris stepped up to the table and began his slow elimination of the
solid balls. Riddick leaned back up against the wall and listened in
amused delight as Chris moved in for the kill with Maul's description. "Oh he's kinda
indescribable, Dom. Tall, slender, but well built. Dresses in these funny
black robes. Horns, black and red tattoos all over his body. Kinda hard to
miss." The quiet thunk of the ball
dropping into the pocket was missed as Dom's eyes widened in shock and his
voice overpowered the rock music yet again. "WHAT???" The stockbroker and convict
chuckled at his outrage and just grinned. "You'll see, Dom.
Trust me! Now Chris... what's up with the angst man? Who's hassling you
now?" "Pick one, man!
Gods!!! Ardath and Lilith apparently have a contest going to see who is
the best at torturing me! Jesus! If I'm not feeling guilty about a one
night stand or slicing my hand on some wine glass I just HAD to keep
squeezing in anger, then my girlfriend is being used by my
friend/lawyer/sleazebag that Gunn created. And now Gunn created an even
worse sleazebag and had him put Suzanne in the hospital! I'm never gonna
get laid!!! In the few stories that I do managed to get laid, they either
forget about me completely or decided that they needed some plot to go
with the smut and are currently devising MORE ANGST!!!" The ranting seemed to
improve Chris' pool game as he managed to sink most of his balls in rapid
succession. Neither Dom nor Riddick missed the intensity with which he
took out his frustrations on the poor things either. They clicked and
clacked loudly against each other, making the two other men glad they
weren't the ladies in question. Dom lost the rock paper
scissors battle and Riddick elbowed him to find out exactly who the last
two complaints were aimed at. "So who forgot about
you and who's decided to give you more angst?" The growl made the racer
and former babysitter burst out laughing. "Serial Hag and
CC." The hoots of laughter
echoed off the walls and Riddick slowly began to feel better. 'At least I
ain't the only one these ladies are torturing!' Chris could only glare at
Riddick as he missed his shot and stood. An evil grin lit his face as he
taunted the goggled man. "I don't know what
you're laughing at, slut. Word in the chat room says Jules is NEVER gonna
let you get laid! And don't even get me started on how many times Ardath
has shot your leading lady!" Dom began to cackle with
renewed enthusiasm as Riddick scowled at Chris. "Don't. EVEN. Go.
There." "Oh hell yeah,
Riddick!! I'm going there!! Is Mad Marty starting to cramp your style a
bit? What does he call you again?? Chrome dome?? And... in keeping with
the game at hand... Cue ball?? Guess you won't be getting any in the rest
of 'Apprentice' with Jack all shot up full of holes, now will ya?" All traces of humor left
Riddick's face as he stood tense and ready to grab his shiv. His hand slid
instinctively to his waistband and found that it wasn't there. 'WHAT?' Dom laughed even harder. "You keep forgetting
man. CC's writing this one. She ain't gonna let you shiv Chris. She's got
angst planned for him! And I'm curious. What exactly did you say to dear
old Jack in the cab, huh? Something like 'Tu cuerpo esta enloqueciendome,
mi amor, y quiero nada mas que estar adentro de ti.'" Riddick looked at him
blankly. "Man, I have no idea
what you said. Shit, I didn't know I spoke Spanish! And to make matters
worse, Jules didn't fucking tell ME what I said to Jack in the cab." Chris erupted into deep
hoots of laughter and Dom braced himself against the table to stop himself
from falling into the floor, the pool game momentarily forgotten.
Eventually the laughter got to Riddick and he had to smile despite
himself. "Well I guess I can't
complain too much. I mean, shit, I've been get laid like hell in the other
rp's that Gunn, Ardath, Lil and CC are working on. Just too bad none of
them are finished. Claire is pretty cool. But I get the sinking suspicion
that something really bad is going to happen to me. They are all too damn
giggly about it." Panting for air, Chris
looked up and managed to hold a straight face for about two minutes. Long
enough to get in one final jab at the murderer while he was unarmed. "Yeah... but you're
the only man I know that feels guilty for having sex with the most popular
character you're paired with. Do you ever get to just enjoy the sex and be
happy to be getting laid without them throwing that 'Rejoin the human
race' emotion crap on you?" At that all three men burst
into boisterous laughter. All it took was one of them looking at another
and they were laughing once again. 'Gods, we're a pathetic group of men.
Chained to these insane authors and players out of sheer fucking
nobility.' The thought sent Riddick into laughter once again and he didn't
stop until Chris' cell phone began to ring. "Chris Varick." "Chris! Man, thank god
we found you! Listen, Sean, Taylor and I are gonna be late." "Late? What's up with
that, Rick?? You guys were supposed to be here... jeez... seems like
months ago." "Yeah tell me about
it! Apparently they've called ANOTHER meeting to decide if it's a good
thing for us to leave. What do they think we are?? Gangsters? Drug
dealers? Hell Sean is so pissed right now he's threatening to lock
everybody up!!" "Well I thought you
guys had been sneaking out. Didn't Gunn and Lil kidnap them? And didn't CC
and Serial Hag nab you for a few nights?? I bet security was none too
pleased." "Yeah... well. You
know how that goes. We'd be out there now having the time of our lives if
the damn studios would get off their collective asses but who am I to
complain?" "I hear you, man. So
hopefully we'll see you soon?" "As soon as I get a
release date I'll call you back." "Fair enough.
Later." "Later." Dom and Riddick stood in
the corner sipping on their beers as Chris clicked his cell phone off. He
noticed they were staring at something on the TV but couldn't make out
what. "That was Taylor, Sean
and Rick. They've hit a snag with the studios and are going to be late.
They'll let us know when they know something. What are you guys
watching?" Dom nodded at Chris
explanation but never let his eyes leave the vaguely familiar man now
being interviewed on the TV. "Riddick? Do you still
have the power of speech since Nos-for-brains here doesn't??" Riddick studied the new man
on the screen before looking up to Chris. "It's Xander. They're
grilling him about his movie." "Who the hell is
Xander?" "The new James Bond??
Remember? And you'll pay for that Nos-for-brains comment, Mr. I'm-So-Angsty." "LISTEN! Listen! The
X-games champion is talking. Let's find out when he's supposed to be
joining the ranks." Patiently the three men
listened to the remainder of the interview and all smiled when they heard
the date. July 26, 2002. "So... another bad boy
to join the party. How interesting." "Don't speak too
quick, Riddick. Sean, Taylor and Rick were supposed be here already. And
where the hell is Caparzo?? Did you see him when you got here?" The soldier picked that
moment to come bursting through the door. Dom swallowed his reply to
Chris' question and Riddick just scowled at the man's frantic face. "What the hell is your
problem Caparzo?? No wonder your ass got shot first if you can't follow
simple damn directions." "Guys... I got a
problem." "What??" they
chorused. "I got married." "YOU WHAT???"
they screeched. Riddick's cell phone picked
that precise moment to shrill and interrupt Carpy's story and with a
disgusted flip he opened it and put it to his ear. "Richard. B. Riddick.
Escaped convict. Murderer." "Riddick. Got another
job for you." "Oh no, Jack. NO WAY!
The PBDS is just gonna have to function without me. No way!" "Riddick. This is
serious. Lil needs help with Harry and Serena. Can you take the skiff over
to the UK and babysit? I promise to send you reinforcements." "Who?" "Well, I'm not sure if
Shazza is available. I think she may be busy trying to find Fry. We lost
her again. But I'm sure I can find somebody. Maybe Johns is free..." "JACK! You can't do
this to me!!! I don't care, I ain't going. No." "Awwwww, c'mon,
Riddick. I promise to make it worth your while." "How much?" Her voice took on a
teasingly seductive tone. "I'll make it VERY
worth your while. Might even arrange some nice PWP's for us. So what do
you say?" "Give me a few hours.
I'll be there as soon as I can." He couldn't stop the smirk
from lighting his face as he clicked his phone closed and polished off his
beer. 'Some nice PWP's would be great. Hell, as long as the plot isn't too
angsty it wouldn't be half bad.' "Gotta fly, guys.
Babysitting job." The other three men stopped
their conversation and looked at Riddick like he'd just turned into a
night freak. "WHAT?" they
gasped in unison. "UK job. Lil's two
kids. Not to worry, I'm taking backup." "Who?" "Johns." "ARE YOU NUTS???" "Well, he's got the
big gauge. Now... before I go... who married you Caparzo?" "She didn't leave a
name. Just a letter. L." "Who does she think
she is, Zorro??" They all laughed and walked
Riddick out. However their better moods were quickly ripped from them when
four sets of eyes surveyed the damage in front of the house. "What the hell did he
do to the Supra, Chris? I thought you said you fed him?" "I thought Carpy was
gonna feed him!" "Don't look at me, I
just got here!" "Well how the hell am
I supposed to fly to the UK when the damn Iron Giant just ate the damn
skiff?" At the mention of his name
the Iron Giant dropped what was left of the car he was munching and lifted
a large rock and tree. "Roooooccccck.....
Treeeeeeeeeeeeeee." "Great, Chris. Nice
pet you got there!!!" "Shut up, Dom, or I'll
have RedSith slash you with Maul." Riddick approached the
metal beast and growled at its questioning yellow eyes. "Now what am I
supposed to do?? Do you realize that I have to go?" "You. Stay. I. Go. No
following." Riddick glared at the
stockbroker over his shoulder. "Chris! It's got the
vocabulary of CC's kid!! Fucking brilliant!" Turning to face his current
obstacle, Riddick called up all his badass convict DNA and let his shined
eyes lock with the Giant's yellow ones. "No you over grown tin
can! I have to get to the UK! Now what do you propose I do?" The Iron Giant gently
extended his hand and Riddick begrudgingly climbed in. "I hope you've got a
fucking license, pal." As they took off, Mike
pulled up to the curb in front of the house. "Hey guys!! Guess
what??? I got a call back from that commercial I auditioned for. You know
what they said? I can be the third body builder that gets eaten by the
lions in that deodorant commercial for Degree. And to think, this is the
only part I can get unless I write my own movie!!" Three pairs of eyes studied
the young man as they shook their heads. They were all muttering the same
thing. "Damn the writers.
Damn them all to hell." The story makes references to the following pieces of
fiction: These RolePlays were referred to and can be found on the
boards or in the archives: |