[Riddick looks at the glowing Machariel sword in his hand. He tests its weight. He spins it and flips it around and appears to know exactly how to use the giant sword.]
RIDDICK: It'll do.
[Boglath, Devourer of Furya, grips Riddick by his throat, lifting him up off the ground. Smoke glows off Boglath's body. His faceless head tilts to one side and Riddick's face begins to appear on the surface as Boglath eats Riddick's life force.]
BOGLATH: Your hatred is sweet.
RIDDICK: Tell me how this tastes.
[Kicks a knife into Boglath's head.]
[Riddick flexes his double muscles. The Machariel Nephilim Guard swoop in around him. They are numberless. Riddick floats into the air. His eyes glowing. Lightning crackles around him. Int he cathedral windows planets are visible being smashed apart by the black beams of the Revelation Hammers.]
RIDDICK: Let's dance.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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