prodigaljaybird: (Comics - Back to business.)
The set-up's taken weeks, but the Red Hood is as patient as Jason is not, waiting and planning, gathering intel and distributing false data, wiring bombs and executing his plan to perfection. Five Lobos lieutenants, one captain, and in a stroke of luck, two high ranking Mad Men are all gathered in a small room of long abandoned warehouse 56.

The block is empty. The doors are shut. Inside the men are in varying degrees of inebriation, helped along by a little something Jason slipped into Aguilar's flask. Jason waits.

And waits.

And waits. And when he's completely satisfied, he sets the timer on the explosive charges and turns to leave, checking his outside feed one last time.

He's planned every detail to the last. Which is why it shouldn't truly be a surprise that fucking Allison Argent is in the alleyway outside.

"Dammit," Jason swears, looking at his timer. He could stop this, but any moment now, Allison's going to get the attention of the bangers inside, and Jason doesn't know when he'll get an opportunity like this again. "Dammit," he swears again, and flies swift and silent through the window into the outside air.

"Get out of here." The words ring clear and sudden through the night, for all that they're barely above a whisper. "I mean it. Go right now."
prodigaljaybird: (Comics - Dazed.)
He lost him.

Didn't he?

Does anyone ever really lose the goddamn Batman?

Pale and shaky, Jason casts another look over his shoulder. There's no one there, but then, that's what Bruce might want him to think. Perhaps he's slunk back into the shadows, perhaps he's watching, waiting for Jason to show his hand.

Well, here it is. He hasn't fucking got one, left his apartment like an idiot in minimal gear so he could meet Allison, a half dozen weapons and his gauntlets all that he has on him - a handful of nothing all that might stand between Jason and a deeper cut.

Lifting a trembling hand, he palms at the scar on his throat, only to rip his hand away again. If Bruce is watching, Jason doesn't mean to let him see him suffer. Darting down the next corner and then another, Jason doubles back, takes a second and third rooftop, then darts down another alley. His route is spinning, and Jason's spinning with it, eyes half to crossing and his cheeks green when he rounds another corner, barking in surprise when he runs into -

"Allison." Fuck. Bruce can't see her, can't know what she means, but she's here and if he's watching there's no escaping it. Jason tries and fails to school his expression into something less nauseated, croaking her name again. "Allison."

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Jason Todd

September 2014

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