“A city.” He repeats her words dully. It’s not just him, then. There are more things he remembers, sitting on a rooftop with Kyra, men in capes playing at being vigilantes. He sees her, too, Fry. She’s the thing he sees the most. “We were both there. You had the scar.”

He could trace it out, and he’s never seen it. Riddick is sure that he has traced it out, more than once. “Jack was there. Kyra, she calls herself.”