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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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?