mistconduct | Issue #29

Issue #29

Sup, Barge assholes. I'm back.

It's been like a whole fucking year, so I'm not going to bore you with the immense amount of crap that went down in my world because oh, hey, come up to the infirmary and take a look. Everyone and their mom already has.

Speaking of moms, I have an issue of rebranding to announce. Red Mist is dead. Henceforce I am no longer Chris D'Amico, but wish instead to be addressed by my super name, The Motherfucker. It's going to be a while before I'm back in the costume but regardless of that, I want you all to call me The Motherfucker. It grows on you.

And speaking of that, informal poll time, fucking yes it's that time again!

On a scale of 1 to 5, Chris' new goatee is;
-Awesome.
-REALLY fucking awesome.
-Sculpted like Michaelangelo's David.
-Way better than Tony Stark's
-I haven't seen it; every time I turn to observe I'm blinded by the awesome.

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I know. It shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't.

[He wraps a big arm around him, holding him, hunched over him and so furious that this is happening to his poor dumb baby badass. He's a universe away so he just has to sit on the impulse to go murder the shit out of everyone who did this to Chris.]

It's bullshit.

[Giving a grim nod, Chris sits in Riddick's arm, hugging tight to him and gleaming every bit of comfort he can from him]

It is. It's such fucking bullshit, I can't...fucking take it.

...you sorry you came back yet?

I'm sorry I left. I shoulda been here when you got back.

Megamind got me here, faster than anybody could.

I just.

Fuck. Fuck, they're...really going to take them? Both of them? God damn it, Riddick, they were healing..!

Sepsis is a shitty way to die, Chris. There's gonna be options.

Can't they reverse it? Just fucking dope me up and drain it out? Something?

...if it's to the point they can 'drain' infected tissue it is way, way too late.

Jesus fuck.

Riddick, what in the fuck..

There's rotting meat on you. It's gonna have to go. If there's too much...

Don't say that. Don't fucking say that, Riddick, god damn it, they're fine! There's nothing wrong with them, they'll heal!

I can lie real convincingly if that's what you want.

[With an agonized, heavy grunt, Chris drops his head back down against Riddick's shoulder]

Lie to me.

You're young, healthy-- they're gonna do a quick cleanup, just take off the dead skin, give you a saline drip and juice you with antibiotics for a few days. It'll take an hour, tops, you'll just have to spend a few more days in bed while you patch up and take your meds.

[He rattles it off with complete conviction.]

[It sounds too good to be true, and he's almost desperate enough to believe it. Shutting his eyes, Chris muffles the sounds he's making with a sleeve, shoulders trembling.]

Jesus fuck, everything was going so well until I hit seventeen. What the fuck happened?

Bullshit. Sometimes bullshit happens.

[Riddick runs a hand over his hair, trying to be comforting.]

This ain't the end of you.

[He leans into the comforting grip, struggling to calm himself]

Sure as shit feels like it.

Always does, in the moment.

My baby badass. I'm sorry it's going down this way. [More soothing hair-stroking.] you're gonna survive.

[The nickname makes him grin, despite everything; he missed being called that particular term of affection, and it reminds him that he's home. Really home.

But the smiles don't last long, and he gives a frustrated grunt, dropping his head back down]

In a wheelchair. For...what, the rest of my fucking life?

Or prosthetics. Both options more helpful than 'dead'.

I dunno. I was dead for nine months. Wasn't so bad.

You can't do much, though. Lie around. Not real productive.

How productive am I going to be after they...do what needs to be done?

Ask Gordon. She seems to manage somehow.

She's Oracle. She's a genius.

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Issue #29

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