Issue #30

[mistconduct]

[Private to Barbara Gordon]

How do you take this shit, Barb? How the fuck do you keep going?


[Private to Infirmary Staff]

So what's the plan, Docs? I'm getting fucking bedsores. I want out.


[Private to Vesper]
Hey. Can we.

Look, pick up the phone. Just.

Can we talk?


[Later, public]

[He's still getting drugged every night, as much for his mental health as his physical. It's easier to get through the days when you're on a cocktail of anti-depressants.

This, however, has its disadvantages. Mainly that Chris is so exhausted that he sleeps through the night, unaware of his warden item beeping underneath the bed. The teddy bear - yes, his warden item is a slightly charred teddy - is recovered in the morning, still beeping, when Chris wakes up.

It's alarming, how he can go from sleepy and lackadaisical to fucking pissed in a single instant]


Who the FUCK killed Slevin?!

You assholes, I swear to FUCKING god, I will fucking come out of this bed and murder the shit out of you! Where the fuck is my inmate and who the fuck is responsible for this bullshit?! You think just because I'm in the infirmary doesn't mean I won't come there and murder you back, you utter shithead?!

Fuck. Someone get me a fucking wheelchair, or crutches, or whatever. Who saw him last?!

Jesus christ, you're a fucking pack of animals!


[After Slevin's been found]

Call off the search, his body turned up in the inmate showers.

Whoever did this; you're fucking dead. You hear me? You can't fucking run on a ship, dumbass. I'm coming for you.

Fuck everything.

Comments

[spam]

[routemistress]

...Don't make me shoot you before we even get started, you great plonker.

[Oh, put it away.]

[spam]

[halftheman]

Not up to me. We have to have consensus, or we deadlock.

[ And he might be negotiating now. ]

[spam]

[routemistress]

...Fine. I've worked with worse. Maybe.

[She watches with interest. Her staser's in easy reach, if it comes to it; though Iris suspects even if the dodgy one comes out on top this time, he's not actually that likely to lunge for her like a rabid animal.

Probably. Whatever. She'll deal.]

[spam]

[halftheman]

You don't need to tense up. This isn't about you. Or violence, even. It's about breaking a deadlock. A choice when we oppose. The choice isn't 'do we brain Iris Wildthyme' or not; that's resolved.

[ For now, anyway. ]

The coin isn't morality, because there is no morality. The coin is choice when there is no choice. The option for one of us to have our way, or walk away.

That's all.

[spam]

[routemistress]

Good. I can do without braining till we're done with investigating.

[She smiles down at her feet, ruefully.]

I'd like to claim it's morality for me. It's mostly not; it's curiosity and keeping meself from dying of boredom.

[This isn't exactly a lie; the morality's there with Iris, who does object on principle to people being murdered. But it's true enough that morality's not what really motivates her.]

[spam]

[halftheman]

[ Once they get to the infirmary doors -- the coin goes up, and goes down into his palm; he catches it in a long practiced motion, as familiar to him as breathing or walking. ]

[ He looks at it a moment, before he says: ]

We'll help.

[ The side that's come up is scarred and defaced - Two-Face's call. ]

[spam]

[routemistress]

[She's watching, head cocked with intent curiosity; when she sees the coin come down she looks from its face to the man's and back again, considering for a long, silent moment.

And then she smiles.]

Jolly good. Let's get on with the autopsy, then.

[spam]

[halftheman]

You shouldn't be so chipper about a corpse, Iris.