Weekend At Xavier's (Part Three)

Ever the responsible adult, Mister Logan dropped Saberwolf and I off on Rikers fucking Island by ourselves before he fucked off to Brooklyn or something while we were busy.

The Raft was an imposing-looking place. It was situated on a separate island in the East River, like a giant stone and metal obelisk sticking out of the water. It was run by S.H.I.E.L.D., because of course it was, which meant tons of automated defenses, and heavily armed patrol vessels, and armored aircraft on standby. You had to get one of these things to pick you up take you to the fucking prison in the first place. Fortunately, they knew I was coming, and I got a ride in a chopper.

It didn't get any nicer once you were inside. The courtyard was protected by a force field and thirty ray-guns coordinated by a targeting computer. All of the guards wore top-of-the-line armor, kept their faces covered (so criminals who got out couldn't screw with them later, I assumed), and carried electrified weapons that only worked when operated by a specific guard.

Also, as a fun aside... being complete dicks, S.H.I.E.L.D. filled the water between the prison and shore with badass jellyfish that had a powerful nerve toxin in their sting. Potential escapees that had the thought to swim could expect a very thorough drowning.

There was a lot to take in as they walked me to the visitor reception center... which didn't seem to get a lot of traffic compared to the rest of the prison. Go figure.

The guard manning the station saw us coming and quickly reacted. It was probably the first time anyone had come through there in weeks, "What's with the robot?" He asked.

Saberwolf bristled at the incorrect designation, "I am an A.I."

"-He's also my emotional support," I added, stooping down to hug him around the neck, "Look at him. Look at the concern in these eyes. Can't you feel the love?" I subsequently felt one of Wolf's retractable blades jab me in the side.

The guard didn't like my attempt at a joke. My mistake for trying to bring some levity to someone's dour surroundings, "He'll have to stay here," The guard told me, "You're the only one with a pass to go in. Also, we can't let you bring anything metal past this point."

I deposited my keys and phone, but still wasn't allowed to pass, "Anything else?"

He proceeded to literally point at a big, bold list on the wall full of stuff I couldn't bring past that point. To the point, I had to empty my pockets of everything and lock it all up until I came back through. They took my belt too, and gave me string to temporarily replace it. I felt like I was a kid caught sagging his pants in middle school.

In the end, they wound up taking me through the cell blocks with two guards leading me to the appropriate cell.

All of the cells had thick, horizontal metal bars and some kind of glass wall separating the prisoners from the rest of the block. All of the inmates wore blue jumpsuits. I tried to keep from stopping and staring at some of the luminaries of the prison that I'd caught sight of as we went.

Instead of sitting down with Riddick behind a glass wall with a phone the only means to communicate, they stuck me right in front of his cell, with guards watching both of us.

It wasn't like I was going to break his ass out, but I understood. I'd spotted several dangerous motherfuckers just chilling in their cells on the way to his. These people were not playing any games about their security.

When Riddick saw it was me through the bars, he seemed surprised I was there at first. He quickly tried to put on his poker face, but it had been too late, "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged, "I came to visit you."

Upon hearing my voice, he seemed to quickly check back into 'fuck you, Bellamy' mode, "Tch. Why bother?" He scoffed.

He was older than me, but dealing with him was like trying to have a conversation with a moody know-it-all teenager. I should know. I went to school with a lot of them. Some would say that I was one.

Not me, of course. I had lots of other problems I'd cop to first. Admitting to that one would have just been embarrassing.

"Because you're my son," I replied, refraining from adding on, 'and someone told me that's supposed to be important.' I wanted to try to start off without snark, so that when this failed, I could go back saying I tried, "So... how is it in here?"

Stupid question, seeing as it was prison. Probably the prison.

In line with a stupid question, Riddick responded in kind, "Oh, it's great," He said sarcastically, "I love crapping in a metal toilet with no rim on it."

Okay, the more we interacted, the easier it was to believe that he was my kid in the future, given that I didn't shake some of my more jarring personality traits by the time he was old enough to pick things up. He was way too much of a snarky button-pushing fuck to not have sprung from my loins.

"How long are you in for?"

"Five years?"

"What?" I was shocked. That was bullshit, "You were charged with aggravated assault and attempted murder. I thought that came with ten?"

Riddick replied with a smug grin, "Go figure. I guess I just have a sympathetic face," He said, "Not like it'll matter though. I won't be sticking around for anywhere near that long."

His attitude was way too chipper for his situation. He'd had a month to sit and stew. I expected him to be angrier, "What, do you think you're gonna break out of here? I'd love to see that."

He wasn't doing anything without superpowers, which neither of us had inside of The Raft. There was a bio-energy dampener that affected abilities like ours; suppressed them.

At that, Riddick played his cards closer to his chest, "I've got my ways, dad. Don't you worry about that," He knew he'd already given me enough to chew on mentally, "...I'll see you soon enough."