Disclaimer - I don't own any of these characters, yada, yada.

Concept: - Riddick from Pitch Black and Logan from X-Men meet and discover a few things…..

Chapter 1 - They Meet

In those dark seedy corners of reality where stories rub elbows, strange things are known to have happened. Little Davey Copperfield flies the occasional solemn kite with Charlie Brown, and Alice has been known to poke her inquisitive little nose into Anne Rice's Vampire Novels as well as the original script for The Matrix. Who else did you think gave them that 'down the rabbit hole/follow the white rabbit' idea…. not to mention the mirror "Through the Looking Glass" rip-off! Anyway, it is a well-known secret that, when characters are looking for a much-needed break from their respective realities, this is where they go.

And this, my friends, is one of those times…….

The bar, Satan's Bloodbucket, wasn't a very popular one, attractive mainly to the limited clientele who demanded a wide variety of imported beers on tap and the increased probability of a down and dirty fight breaking out at least twice a night. Its regulars guarded their barstools and booths with a fierce tenacity akin to complete and utter possession. Some of them had been going there for years, centuries even! Every seat was accounted for. If a newbie hardass showed up, fresh off the press or celluloid, he (or she) would have to acquire a seat through fists and bloodshed. It was a time-honored system and, besides, it provided a great deal of entertainment for those who had been there since the beginning of fiction! The writers of the late 20^th and early 21^st Centuries had been keeping the regulars entertained with their creations practically every night! It was a great time to be a tough guy….or gal. (Everyone had a deep, abiding respect for that Xena wench in the corner after what she ended up doing to the Marquis de Sade on the night of her arrival at Satan's Bloodbucket). Still, it was a rare thing for someone to lose his seat.

Given these facts, no one really paid much attention to Riddick when he first entered the bar. That is, until he gutted Rambo and kicked his sorry corpse out the door. As he took the newly vacated seat, his neighbor to the right slowly edged away, but the man to his left didn't budge.

"Bout time someone did that, kid." Logan said taking a swig from his beer. "Bastard was getting on my last nerve; I was tempted to do away with him myself and use his seat as a footstool."

"Fucker did not know who he was dealing with," Riddick spat out as he gestured his drink preference to the nervous bartender. Had this hairy runt just called him 'kid'?

"Name's Logan." The much shorter man extended a hand.

"Riddick." The hardened con shook the proffered hand quickly and firmly. Didn't look like the tough little bastard was gonna let him drink in peace, so he would have to play nice for a while.

"You from a new story, Riddick?

"Couple of years old now. Movie."

"Movie!? Were you around before the movie, or because of the movie?"

"Because, I guess." Riddick took a longer look at the smaller man. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Logan. Some call me Wolverine."

"You from a movie too?"

"Only recently, started out as a comic book character."

"No Shit!?" Riddick turned in his seat toward the man next to him who was chewing on the end of a rather smelly cigar. He hadn't met a comic book character before.

"No Shit. From there I migrated into cartoons and fanfic… it's been especially bad since the movie."

"What, so you play a supervillian or something like that?"

"Nope, I'm one of the good guys." Logan grinned around his cigar. "Get to kick a surprising amount of ass that way too."

"No shit." Riddick was at an obvious lack for words. "So what makes you so tough?"

"These." Logan rested his elbows on the bar and with a satisfying 'snikt' popped his foot-long adamantium claws. "Tack on a mutant healing factor and some enhanced senses and you'll find why most people don't like to throw down with me."

Riddick's hand had immediately gone to his shiv as the man called Wolverine popped his claws, but he relaxed visibly when it became evident that the action was non-threatening. He suddenly felt a twinge of relief at having picked the overmuscled, shirtless grease monkey with the lisp and bandana as his mark. "Those would come in handy," he smirked.

Logan chuckled. "They do."