Pitch Black "The Boogeyman"

[Pitch could be seen in his cabin, trying to absorb what he's taken in from his Warden, and his file. His body still ached from the Port, but anger was apparent in his tense fists that rested on the desk, back slouched back against the wooden chair stubbornly.

He opens his hand and stares down at the locket in its palm. moving his thumb, he unlatches it, opening it to reveal a girl, around the age of seven, inside with raven black hair, a pleasant smile on her face. The locket looks worn down and tarnished, so does the picture inside.

Pitch purses his lips, holding back a growl.]

This is absurd. I am not some vessel. I am in control of myself. [He snaps the locket shut and tosses it carelessly across the desk's surface, which clatters off screen.]

I don't believe it. I still don't believe any of it. For all I know it all could have been fabricated by that alien or the Admiral. [He rolls his eyes, tapping bony fingers on the wooden desk.]

A man in golden armor, a hero of the constellations... a father. [A bitter laugh escapes his lips.]

What nonsense.