Johns

[nozenfordaddy]

Name: William J. Johns, William the Conqueror

Character Fandom: The Chronicles of Riddick: Pitch Black

Canonical Point of Entry: : Before the events of the movie, prior to capturing Riddick by killing a child and forcing his surrender.

Physical Description: Johns is quick, built on a slim frame topping 6 foot, covered with lean muscle and kept in fighting shape. He’s all sandy hair, tan skin, bright (cocky) smile and vivid blue eyes. He looks like he’s about twenty seven years old.

Background: On paper Johns is thirty seven years old, but he's spent nearly a quarter of that time in cryo-sleep; as a result his face isn't one of a man approaching forty, rather that of a young man. He joined the marines straight out of secondary school, took the first chance to get off the rock ball he called home and found out that most of the worlds weren't any better. He trained in the MMP (Marine Military Police) and specialized in tracking down AWOL soldiers fleeing the Wailing Wars.

After the war he was discharged from the MMP, with a clean record and a good discharge medal despite several run ins with superior officers, and rumors of prisoners coming back badly beaten or worse. He took a job working private sector as a marshal specializing in high-risk felons.

Success rate to date: 17 escapees assigned, 17 escapees recovered.

He has a three inch knife scar next to his spine from an encounter with
Riddick that nearly left him paralyzed and resulted in nearly constant pain. He has adapted, psychologically using the sharp sting of metal on his spine as a divining rod, almost having a sense of what his latest hump was going to do before he did it.

The other way he dealt with the pain? Morphine. Lots of it.

Since coming to the village he’s had surgery to remove the piece of metal threatening to paralyze him or worse, and went through rehab.

He’s been clean since May 26th, 2007.

Personality: His military psychological evaluation shows an obsessive compulsive personality with addictive tendencies.

In Johns this is characterized by a decreased ability to show warm and tender emotions, a perfectionism that borders on the extreme, difficulty in doing things anyway but their own, and an excessive devotion to work.

Essentially, everything must be just right, and nothing can be left to
chance. Johns is a planner.

All these things have come together in his pursuit of Riddick, a man he's lost once before, a man who nearly left him paralyzed; he has focused all his anger, his compulsion on bringing him in and pity the man who gets in his way.

In a world where being in control is of paramount importance, dealing effectively with the volatility of his emotions is extremely difficult. Johns does this by being the coldest son of a bitch this side of the Harrods Belt. Unless of course you’re one of ‘his’ people.

Ruthless. Charismatic. Persuasive. And always, always, looking out for number one. Himself.


[Entry post for hearts_andminds March 03, 2007.]


Day 42

Finally tracked that bastard Riddick to some barely inhabited planet in the back of beyond; no thanks to the crap medic who fixed up my ankle. Or Dresden who has been half a step behind me the whole time. Getting closer. Each time I tangle with Riddick slows me down a little more, makes the pain a little sharper and the relief a little sweeter.

I finally gave Dresden the slip, had my self dropped from orbit. He won't follow without a way off this rock and once I have Riddick it should be a simple thing to take his ride.

Two birds.

Riddick headed back to the slam and that upstart stranded here. They both can rot.

John's covered the drop capsule with brush; half buried, it would be next to impossible to find. He picked up his duffle, slung his gun over his shoulder and tilted his head, cracked his neck.

He started walking toward the soft glow of the village, Riddick was there he felt it, a tickle along the spine.

"17 out of 17." He muttered to himself. The bastard wasn't going ruin his record.

[ooc: These entries fill the space during Johns' absence from the village starting March 09, 2008. Warning for some foul language, and to anyone who would rather not read about what happens when you get thrown back into a bad bad place.]


Day 43

I almost had that silver eyed bastard Riddick. Dresden's fault. He clipped me sent me into a spin before I landed, though 'crashed' might be a better description. No way is that piece of shit pod getting off this rock. Which means I've got to get transport and get back on his scent.

Gonna need a doc too. Banged up my ankle again only been a few weeks since the last time, and my back. Doc I ran into on Aquila Major wasn't too optimistic, hell what else is new?

I had the strangest dream. Least I think it was a dream. Has to be. Places like that don't exist, people like you. Thing is I can remember having surgery but the shiv is still there, still hurts like hell. The morphine takes the edge off but I feel guilty wanting it. Like you'd be disappointed.

Got to convince myself it was just a dream or I'll go crazy here. It's all cold black nothing, not even any stars in this system to light it up. Dresden's still around, acting like he owns the damn place, should know better than to upset the locals. I need a transport, a new lead and to stop thinking about you, it dulls the edge I'm going to need to catch him.

I have to catch him. I don't got anything left but that. Have to catch up with him, look him in the eye. I hate those eyes but I have this memory of them lookin at me like they saw me and a part of me craves that awareness and then they they're deep brown, and there's a smile and he's someone else in my head.

A dream. Just a fuckin dream.


Day 48
Two AM, I wake wake up and you're not there. Takes me a minute to remember, I'm not in our bed. So damn far away from that other place it seems a little more like a dream every day. Just another day tracking Riddick, another night away from home.

Outside my window the city is loud, can't help wondering where they're all going so fast, at this time of night. It's past my bedtime, and I'm tired, bleary, but I haven't been sleeping. It's the spike, keeps a body awake but it helps me forget. Takes away the pain.

It's getting easier, I mange to forget once in a while, manage to convince myself it wasn't real. There was no village, and if I can remember how you felt, how you tasted, if I wake up reaching for warmth that isn't right there with me its all in my head.

I ride the spike a little harder and everything fades.


Day 53
Dresden's dead. I should be happy. Riddick filleted him like a fish, clean slice right up the spine. The asshole probably didn't feel a damn thing after the first stab of pain and I envy him. That's not healthy is it? To envy the dead.

I promised I wouldn't leave like everyone else, I can't help but think that you must hate me for lying to you.


Day 64
The kid was maybe fifteen years old, reminded me of myself; cocky, from some backwater, barely making do on the streets. He tried to hustle me and lift my wallet, had a dirty face and floppy brown hair. Reminded me of another kid, a sweet kid... I'll have nightmares about him. Both of them.

I left him where I knew Riddick would find the body. Note simply said he had a choice, turn himself in or I found another one. Would make the death hurt next time.

My hands shook when I did it and I know you'll hate me if you ever find out about it. But it was supposed to happen, he told me I was going to do it in my dream. That's the part I hold onto.

I went to a bar, ordered a beer and waited knowing he would come.


Day 71
I hate this shit. It's too hard, too much effort. Humping round this verse with Riddick, chained, doped, whatever I can do to keep him down.

Like a fucking animal. So he can't escape. So he can't talk. His voice is too familiar, hurts when he calls me a bastard.

Almost as bad as when his voice is someone elses, the way his eyes are. I keep them covered, so he can't see me. Look through me with those silver orbs like I'm not even there.

Use the bit so his voice can't make me remember.


Day 76
There's a ship, we're supposed to take. I knew the name when I saw it.. booked two berths to take Riddick and me to Tangiers.

I keep thinking you'd want me to warn them. Tell someone what's going to happen on that planet, that they all die except a holy man and the kid.

But how do I explain how I know?

Hell most days I'm not even sure the dream happened. Or I pray it didn't, because that means I've failed you. Means I proved the bitch with the white streak in her hair right. I'm not worth all the time and effort people put into me.

I die. He told me that, the one in the dream. I die.

I wonder when I stopped caring.


Day 78
A truce. A fucking truce. I don't know what I was thinking. But looking at him it I realized I could trust him. That they'd need him to survive since I'm not going to. They need him. A murderer. A con. And I'm just. meat and I can't make it seem real that I die today.

I can hear your voice, in that drugged moment right after a spike. no one's called me Jonas since I left home. I hope it was a dream. That you're not sitting out there somewhere I can't get back to waiting for me. Or hating me for leaving. Or worse, loving me when I know you'd hate what I've become.

I was a good man. I know it. You told me that. I wasn't a nice man. Wasn't an easy man. But I was a good man. But I'm not anymore. That guy who you loved, who loved you, is gone. I ghosted him when I ghosted that kid.

The suns are setting and I'm scared of the dark.