I LIVED, B I T C H

Jason Peter Todd ++ Work for Hire ++ Dead Bird Walking ++ Roleplay Blog for The Aftermath

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theacearcher‌:

@deadbxrd​ continued from here

“Touché,” Oliver chuckled, pleased that someone was able to fire back at him. While Batman was fun to pick on, it was much more enjoyable when people responded instead of standing silent. “Can I blame Hal for that?” Robin Hood had always been in the back of Oliver’s mind. He loved the idea of helping out those less fortunate and he ran around with a bow. Still, it was Hal who had seemed to latch onto that nickname and Oliver thought, why not look the part as well. “The hood gives me more badass points though, right?”

          That got a bit of a laugh out of the bird. “Yeah, you can blame GL for that. Figured it’s why you had your whole color scheme anyways.” Those Justice League hacks were all buddy buddy... Well, not all of them. Only the ones with some semblance left of sense in their collectively skewed heads. “ Y’know I’m biased. I’ve got Hood in my actual code-name, Queen.” Different kind, still relevant. “So... Yes. Yes it does.” 

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romcnsionis‌:

“Sionis?  Oh, don’t tell me you went and got sour on me, princess,” Roman said, voice deceptively light as he thumbed the hammer of his SIG.  “You don’t think I’m gonna let one little fight get in the way of our relationship, do you?  Ye of little faith.”  It was always like this, with the Hood, business in the language of pleasure because they just couldn’t resist the game.  

But he had to say–he was still more than a little bit pissed off about their last little showdown in Gotham.  So as soon as Hood is in range, he has his own gun pressed to the man’s hip, just beneath where any bullet-proof vest should be ending.  He’s watched the man fight, watched him bleed before.  The returning press of the kid’s pistols to himself is expected.  Neither of them are gonna pull the trigger.  

It’s the choreography.  A show for the audience. And, Roman’s pretty damned sure, for Hood himself.

“I have missed havin’ you swingin’ around, keepin’ my boys on their toes.  ‘S good for keeping the general level of professionalism up, I gotta say.  But if I start givin’ you jobs again, princess, you can’t come blowing up my warehouses again.  This only works, doll, ‘s long as it’s mutually beneficial, y’see.  And you blowin’ up my warehouses back in Gotham wasn’t real beneficial.  I don’t mind you playing a bit rough, but if you fuck with business again, you might have to go the way of the little baby-Bats that came knockin’ around my organization.”  Stephanie had been oh-so-fun to toy with.  

“You play halfway nice, and I’ll give you all the blood you want.  Think you can manage that?”

          Princess? Really?? He was really going there? Must be something he really wanted, or something he wasn’t getting that he needed a little extra oomf in his corner. He’d roll his eyes if they could be seen through the glowing white lenses, permanently squinted in that sort of judgmental stare he’d get from his former mentor for doing shit just like this. The impulsive urge grew the minute cold steel hit. He could feel the light press under the armor’s edge, a short growl coming from the back of his throat. “C’mon, don’t be like that,” Jason huffed, his own weapon pointing directly at Roman’s sternum. Clearly, if he was smart, he’d be wearing his own ballistics armor. If he was smarter, he’d be protecting a lot more than that if things decided to somehow get ugly. Regardless, Jason got the fucking point. 

          He freed one hand, holstering one of the dual guns, to release the locks on the red helm. One head flick and it fell to the ground with an echoed thud, revealing the domino masked face of the criminal for hire. “You really need to shut up about the family you think I have, I haven’t had a family since I was in my single digits.” False. No one could know that. “You want me to settle down? Fine. Get me some work and I can be mostly out of your hair. Simple as that.” It wasn’t going to be though, was it? He braced himself for more, more toying, more shmoozing. How far would he have to go this time to get some shitty gig? 

          “... So,” He grunted out through clenched teeth, red mask creasing under the pained expression on his face. “What’s it gonna’ be... sir?”

[jjmk-jjmk]

Jason Todd 

Red hood fan art

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romcnsionis·:

Much as Batman and his little army of birds were terrifying pains in the ass, Roman had something of a fondness for the Hood. As Robin, he’d been an irritating little shit. As Red Hood, he was still an irritating little shit, but a much more business-minded one. And therefore much more useful– and more fun.

Of course, the young man’s unfortunate tendency to leave Roman’s own men in various states of physical injury in the course of filling the contracts he tossed the man’s way was a mild inconvenience, but Roman viewed it as a small price to pay for the brutal efficiency and creativity the men on his regular payroll frequently lacked.  Both qualities that he was beginning to miss–he’d been in New York for less than two weeks, now, and already he was dealing with the incompetence that so got on his nerves.  He couldn’t even kill the idiots yet, not while he was still establishing a foothold. 

The familiar voice ringing out through his warehouse earned a pleased chuckle–and a drawn gun to accompany it.  Roman turned to face the intruder, pistol held at his side but ready, should it be necessary.  “I knew you’d come lookin’, sweetheart.  You just can’t stay away.  And I’d say I’m happy to see you, but funny enough, I’ve heard some rumours that it ain’t just you who’s in town.  Don’t tell me you came hopping across the water to try and impress Bats and not for little old me.”

         Ahh, that was refreshing. Not necessarily seeing him, he could live his second life never seeing Roman ever again, but the Gotham way of address. Street garbage knew street garbage, and Jason couldn’t say he may have smiled a little too nicely under the hood. That would inflate the boss’ already massive ego, couldn’t have that. “The Bat could care less if I lived or died.” Half true. “My whole career doesn’t rely on the old man, y’know. I have to look out for myself.”

         Making it about business was purely a social barrier. If they got any more friendly with their negotiations, well... he might become a sidekick again. Gross. Contracts were easier, much faster to fulfill than being some asshole’s errand boy. “I’m not here to play around much, Sionis,” The altered voice huffed, advancing closer with the drawn weapon. “You need me as much as I need you, so hand over your marks and we can forget our little altercation happened, yeah?” Jason would be surprised if he got off that easy. It wasn’t like most Gotham criminals to hand over anything without some kind of quid pro quo, and the mob was a business first and foremost. Even if they were Arkham bound, you had to play everything like you were making a deal.

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ofdirectordanvers·:

Working at the hospital a few days a week was a nice change from working at the DEO, of course she loved the DEO and the work she did there but being able to help people in a different way was nice. “I just need you to sign these and then you can leave” Alex told him as she held out some papers for him to sign.

         Oh, thank god. “Finally,” He chuckled, taking the stack and the overly generic hospital pen. Same shit, different city. He was about to sign away his waivers when he... forgot who he’d come in as. The hesitation was enough to make him worry that she’d noticed, so he quickly riffled through and wrote what he assumed his alias was this time. “Sometimes I wonder if these are the worst part of coming in here,” Jason attempted to joke.

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ironiccrus·:

There was a charge in the air, something similar to the electric impulse Tony felt running through the arc when Thor walked into the room. It was less to do with any kind of reaction so much as an acknowledgement of tech meeting the force that kept it acting as it should be, family members reuniting. Tony looked down at the front of the younger man’s jacket again, wondering exactly what it was under there, but FRIDAY informed him it wasn’t an immediate threat. “Better to be caffeinated and disappointed than exhausted, right?” Tony asked, keeping him talking while FRIDAY in his ear ran through various other checks. “I’m very zen. It’s the old age – you cross the barrier of forty-five, and you stop getting annoyed about people crashing into you and start getting annoyed about the price of milk or kids playing on your lawn.”

The guy started to relax in front of him, and Tony knew that he should make his apologies and move on, but it was his responsibility not to. It was his responsibility, and his scientist’s curiosity, that had him flickering his gaze around the room before returning it to his new acquaintance. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Are we just going to pretend you don’t have something interesting going on there that’s nothing to do with subpar coffee staining your polyester?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He waited a beat, then held out a hand. “Tony Stark,” he introduced,· “but you probably know me better as Iron Man.”

         Growing up in his most formative years under the wing of the man known as the World’s Greatest Detective, you noticed hairline movements in any kind of body language. It was a quick look, a quick flinch. Not too quick enough for the bird to catch it and immediately become far too wary of the other. “Y’know, I’ve got a brother that would agree,” he chuckled. “A.. couple brothers that would agree. Though, my old man probably wouldn’t.” Soft jab at the man he constantly made fun of, the one he was mocking with his very presence in the city.

         Well, turns out his hunch was right. This guy did know what was going on, or at least a semblance of it. As soon as the name came out of his mouth, dozens of passed contracts flashed through his mind. So many people wanted this guy’s fortune, but were too afraid to hack into his accounts. Guess he could see why. Yet another billionaire he knew face to face. He tried to keep his unassuming smile, if not for the sake of everyone around him. “Todd. Jason Todd.” Like the name meant anything to one of New York’s richest inventors. “And I don’t surprisingly. I’m a bit of an... ‘on hire’ guy.” 

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“Bold of you to assume I have shame.”

GC Meme // Always Open

          “Bold of you to assume I care.” Ollie was the cooler of the two billionaires Jason knew, but that didn’t mean he had a better relationship with him. It was kind of the reason he and Roy were close, they had way too similar ‘heroic’ upbringings to be absolute coincidence. “I’m just saying, that Robin Hood phase? In my top ten worst costumes you’ve sprinted around in.” Would’ve looked complete with Dina’s fishnets, but he wouldn’t dare say that out loud. 

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lifeinccrnate·:

Jean didn’t make it a habit to go searching around in other people’s heads. She certainly didn’t find amusement in it like Emma seemed to, wasn’t as capable of shouldering their burdens at the same time as her own like Charles had proved to be. That being said, she knew just from looking at this man that he wasn’t of the Spider-Man variety of vigilante. Jean couldn’t judge, but she had a little too much experience with death to feel entirely comfortable dispensing it herself. “Quite a list you’ve got there,” she commented, quirking an eyebrow as she crossed her arms over her chest, holding the file close to her. “Is that supposed to impress me? I’ll give you a quick tip – it takes a lot more than that.”

Red Hood. Ah, now it started coming together. Jean looked at him for a long moment. “Gotham seems to be experiencing a mass emigration,” she replied. “I’m the one who prescribed painkillers, so that’s as close to a friend as you’re getting in the near future.” Persuasive. Jean’s lips curled into a smirk, and the door left ajar behind her shut firmly with just a thought. The cupboard doors opened and closed, their contents rattling. “You think you’re the only one with some tricks up his sleeve?” Jean asked. “Sit down and let me look at your injuries. You try to leave now, you’ll wake up tomorrow with an infection.”

          “Took a while to rack up~” Jason drawled through his nearly trademarked side-smile. “You don’t become an international head-hunt for nothin’.” Of course, not like that meant much anymore. He never was too proud of his international track record, but it did look nice on a merc resume. He relaxed onto the windowsill, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Guess not much impresses you. Don’t know many docs who are ever surprised by anything.” Even if most of the doctors he knew were criminally insane, he found a lot more of the actual practicing ones treated more heroes than they were probably comfortable with. This seemed to be no exception. 

          His face dropped at the fact. Oh home. Were too many people bored with the Jersey city and figured they’d get more fun terrorizing the bigger one across the water? ... Maybe. “Don’t remind me,” He huffed. “Too many bats in the belfry, I can’t escape ‘em.” It wasn’t the ‘family’ he was following, it was the marks, the contracts. With all the big suppliers flying the coop, home got fucking boring. His face tightened, brows knitting together as he tried to mull over if he wanted to try shooting his way out or complying... he went with the latter, mumbling gruffly as he dropped the helm, shed his jacket, and sat on the edge of the less than pristine bed, starting to unlatch the body armor. 

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al-ghuul·:

Ra’s was no idiot, nor was he complacent.  He’d been made aware of Jason’s return to New York almost as soon as the young man had set foot across the city limits.  He had never especially liked Jason Todd, found him to be amongst the most irritating of the sidekicks Bruce Wayne had collected over the years, but he certainly wasn’t going to underestimate the boy.  Especially after Talia had resurrected the young man with the Lazarus Pit and trained him herself.  His youngest daughter was nothing but a pain in the neck almost all the time, but she was a formidable combatant, he would freely admit.  Which meant that Todd now had the training of not only Batman, but his own daughter.

Most inconvenient.

So he’d taken extra care to try and avoid drawing attention in his civilian identity.  And once he’d found out about Jason’s none-too-friendly relationship with Drake, stationed some assassins to keep an eye on Tim’s apartment complex, just in case. 

He gets the call less than three days after Jason’s presence in New York is confirmed.  

Fortunately, Jason has been considerate enough to leave the front door unlocked for his obvious trap, and yet Ra’s enters regardless, eyes flicking between Tim and Jason.  

“You know, I’m considering taking a page from Batman’s playbook.  I daresay a signal in the sky would make it much easier for the two of you to get in touch than trying to create a crisis.” 

           It probably was weirder for Tim to be held ‘hostage’ than it was for Jason going through the whole routine. It did kinda’ come out of nowhere, considering they usually staged a lot of these fake kidnappings when it involved the family business. Did feel good to jump the kid, though. Jason was the black sheep in a family of prize-winners, they all knew that, so having the replacement rolled up in his own bat-rope and under his boots felt like a special kind of ‘brotherly’ revenge. 

          “Don’t know how much the old man would like that,” The vigilante prodded back. “It’s totally off brand for you too, you’d totally lose your credibility as an assassin.” Besides, didn’t Ra’s have eyes like... literally everywhere?

          The dead bird got off of his chair, opting instead to sit on the distressed college kid, much to the other’s dismay. “Figured taking care of the replacement would be quicker than waiting in my nest, I know how, uh... close you two are.” A shit-eating smirk as the boy under him started making louder protests. Jason leaned back casually instead, sliding further to sit on the ground, elbows propped on the squirming hostage. 

          “So! How’ve ya’ been, Pit Pal?”

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thecanaryxlance·:

Sara quickly threw the kid that landed on her shoulders off her, another reason to to hate vigilantes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The blonde exclaimed, something like this would never have happened back home and she couldn’t wait to get back to her city. There were no vigilantes there, no one that would dare to jump on her shoulders of they valued their lives. 

          Oh crud! Jason didn’t have much time to react, getting tossed nearly as quickly as he’d landed. He ended up rolling on the concrete, bouncing up to brush off his cape. “Yeesh, careful, lady,” He drawled, a gloved hand going up to scratch the back of his head. The same really could be said of himself, but he wasn’t worried. He was trained by the best, after all. “I think you’re some shady character, and I was just checkin’ before I cart you down to the Commish. Don’t you know who I am?” He finished with a smirk, standing almost a little too proudly. 

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kdxnvers·:

“It’s not–” But he’d hit the brakes and made a turn before Kara could finish her sentence. Which, honestly, was great. If she had to chase someone down, at least he was making it interesting. There weren’t any guns to heads or magic choking the life out of someone; the stakes felt incredibly low. It left room for a little fun, where small-time crime could get monotonous.

Her cape billowed around her as she made the turn without stopping her momentum, flying backwards for a moment before changing direction. The rumble would have been easy enough to follow, but the buildings almost made the quick corners challenging. Almost. When she settled at the other end of the alley, hands in fists at her side, shoulders high, there was something like excitement bubbling in her chest. “Almost made me work for that. You’re pretty good on that bike.”

          Of course he was found. Mostly found. Supers can catch anyone, anything. That’s why they wore the big old ‘S’ on their chests, symbol of hope, or peace, or whatnot. Made him determined to make sure the Bat was the opposite, as if it wasn’t already. Hands gripping his holster belt, he let himself relax into the shadows, the soft glow of his white lenses staring out at the hero. Look at her, being so smarmy and proud about their little game of hide and seek. 

          “Guess I should say thanks,” Jason chuckled. “Though, hard to say when I’ve been doin’ stunts like that since I could read.” An over-exaggeration, but the drilling and field experience he’d had working with cycles was enough to last both of his lifetimes. “I’m used to giving the good guys the runaround, I like to... disappear.” It would be useless to fire, but he still pulled out the twin weapons, raising an eyebrow she wouldn’t see. “’Suppose you won’t let me do that, huh?”

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roi-des-voleurs·:

The man who stepped from the shadows did not exactly look like he did not want any trouble, despite what he said. In Remy’s experience, anyone who was wearing an outfit like that and covering their face usually was not simply out for a stroll. Holding his hands above his head did nothing to reassure Remy either; he himself was adept at striking such a pose, then throwing a card before his opponent could blink. 

“Oh really? Den why you dressed like dat? Costume party?” Remy gave him a skeptical look, not lowering his staff. He knew heroes who wore masks, so it was not completely impossible that this guy was just keeping his identity secret. But the whole outfit and sneaking around routine just did not sit well with Remy. “Your mark? You been chasin’ dis chein? Should'a kept a closer watch on him, den, ‘cause he would'a gotten away wit’ dat lady’s purse if I hadn’t been here. Guess you should be thankin’ me for pickin’ up your slack, hein?”

          Jason looked down, feigning forgetting the mass of tactical gear strapped onto him. “Oh! Looks like I wandered out in my PJs again~” Sarcasm laced heavily between the altered tone of his words, hands dropping to cross his arms over his chest, perhaps a little too tightly. He wasn’t going to get out of this easily, was he? “I always sleep in high ballistic resistant body armor. Call it my own paranoia~” With his past, he may as well be that spooked. It couldn’t be more opposite. 

          “Ah, well kinda’,” The Hood admitted, a shrug scrunching the beaten leather covering his shoulders. “Believe it or not, I usually like to catch my targets in the act of somethin’ devious before I can turn them into my contractor.” Saved him a bit of face in front of the Old Man. He could always have plausable deniability if someone just ended up... gone in the care of the Falcone’s hands. He took a few steps closer to the criminal, attempting to make a somewhat clean getaway. “I should, so thanks. But I really had it covered. I never go into a job unless I know I can cover my own ass.”

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thefirstxman·:

TheX-Men didn’t really do patrols. As a group, they tended to focus on verytargeted threats. They came in when a mutant was causing problems because, moreoften than not, it meant that mutant needed help. They weren’tvigilantes. Mutants didn’t get the privilege of using that term, weren’tallowed to wear capes and spangly outfits and gain public trust through mildviolence. The X-Men didn’t patrol… but that didn’t mean Scott couldn’tgo out and clear his head. It didn’t mean he couldn’t wander the streets withhis hands stuffed into his pockets and his head down. It didn’t mean there wasn’tsome part of him that was hoping for some kind of action.

Whenhe heard a voice carry towards him on the wind, he found himself half-hopingfor a criminal… but that wasn’t what he got. Instead, it was a guy entirely tooamused by his glasses. Scott rolled his eyes, though the motion was lost behindthe dark shades. “They’re medicinal,” he replied flatly. It wasn’t entirely untrue.The rose quartz glasses were in the interest of protecting health… justnot Scott’s health. “You really going to make fun of my glasses when you’rewearing… Whatever that is?”

          Someone finally payed attention to him. What a shock, twist of fate. The smirk was lost under the helm, the only visible shift in emotion the slight tilt of his head as he readjusted his crossed arms, flashing a bit more of the red Bat. “Sure, bud,” Jason sarcastically affirmed. “Should’a asked for a different style.” Like he was one to poke jabs. “Hey, my look is classic. Fashion through function.” He brought a gloved hand up to knock on the helmet. “Besides, it matches the giant flying rat on my chest, I think I’m set up pretty nicely.”

          It wasn’t too much of a surprise that he’d suddenly caught the attention, despite not necessarily asking for it. Someone was bound to stop and catch him in the act of being a little shit. “Where you headed lookin’ like that?” Despite not looking overtly Gothic at all, he had to ask. He was really digging for these. “Mysterious mission for a mysterious man?”

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superbxyclxne·:

It was weird to be called Superman, even though he started to go by that years ago, he was still not used to it, maybe because it was still hard for him to face it that Clark was really gone. He was like a father to him, and losing him was really hard, he missed him a lot. He was less sad than he was when it happened, but he would probably always miss him. People always said that it got better, but that you would always wish that the person was still alive, that you would always miss them, that it wouldn’t ever change.

He swore that he would make Clark proud and be a good Superman, he doubted that he would even come close to how great he was though, but he would try. It was why that even though he was in another dimension, he dressed his suit, and was going around saving people, it was then that one of the robins talked to him. He was close to the batfamily back in his world, but they could look different in other universes. His version in that world, was definitely not similar to him, “You’re not recognizing the suit?” he asked him, he wondered if in his world Superman didn’t exist.

          Maybe the night vision in his mask wasn’t on, or very well fine tuned for the moment, but the minute he saw the suit he knew he was either dealing with a Super-Hero or a Super-Villain. Pretty sure, based on the initial reaction, he was dealing with a Hero. Sweet. The upside-down head tilted to the side, his smile twisting into a tight pout, thinking for a moment. It took him a while before he registered the actual emblem emblazoned on the supposed hero’s chest before his white-out eyes went wide with recognition. “Woah! You’re Superman!!” The excited child lept from the shoulders of this heroic giant, a smile as bright as his uniform.

          “Never met you before, but I’ve heard about you! Lots of times!” the Gotham Gazette usually had the Superman stories on the second page, just under the Bat-related front page headline. “But what’s Superman doin’ hangin’ out like some sleazeball schemin’ to rob a bank?”

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apoisontouch·:

He was still going, and Rogue let a smile form on her lips. He was harmless after all, just a little drunk and having fun. “A sweet talker too,” Rogue mused before taking a sip of her own drink. Getting drunk wasn’t something Rogue did – for obvious reasons. She needed to be aware of her body at all times so she didn’t accidentally send someone to the hospital (again). 

That line – that got a laugh from her. An honest one. “You sound real sure about that, but I don’t think that empty glass is workin’ in your favor, sugar.” Though he was welcome to try and spell it, might distract him for a few minutes more. But she watched as he ran his hand through his hair and got a good look at the scars on his face – there was a story there, but not one that she could get into with him tonight. Or at least, not while he drunk. But there was a story and it made her wonder if that was the reason he was drinking and carrying on like this. “Spell it, huh?” Rogue swirled her drink and then shrugged. “Are. Oh. Gee. You. Ee.”

          Jason thought he was totally winning out. He probably didn’t have a chance in hell of snagging this sassy chick for the night, but damn if the banter wasn’t fun enough. “Just tryin’ to get my practice in. Not often I can find someone who matches wits with the likes ‘a me.” Oh, he was so not the smartest, or the most quick witted, of the bunch of boys he usually found himself accidentally hanging around, but he had a pocket full of one liners to spare. He was the best looking out of the Bat Brats, that was for sure. 

          Certainly took him a hot second to remember what spelling actually was. He nearly went a little cross-eyed trying to remember letters and how they were said out loud. R. O .G. U. E. Rogue. “Cool name~” He chuckled, a bit of genuine fascination in his tone. “But there is no way that’s your given name. No one has a name that cool unless their parents are like... hippies, or eccentric rich people.” He should know.

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lifeinccrnate·:

Jean grew up in a school, and taught biology classes on the side, mostly because her hero worship of Charles had never entirely transferred itself to the respect of a friend and father figure – he just always seemed larger than life, something Jean could never match up to. She had her fair share of experience walking into a room to find someone trying to climb out the window, that’s what she was saying. The guy had definitely piqued interest when he came into the emergency room. The injuries were pretty consistent with some of the other vigilantes who had graced their door when things got a little too tough for masochism to win out, and the uniform was a dead giveaway. True to form, the file was slid onto Jean’s desk, and she didn’t hesitate before making her way down the hall towards the side room, knowing that he was likely to be a flight risk.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, a small smirk on her face, watching the guy try to figure out the locking mechanism specifically designed to prevent things like this. “Need these?” Jean asked, shifting the file under her arm to hold up her lanyard, showing off the keys she carried for the windows. “I wish I could say you’re my first patient tonight that’s preferred the window exit to hearing my lectures, but I can’t. Dr. Grey – and you are?” Refusing to give your name was a classic vigilante move, and Jean didn’t expect the truth, but it was easier than refusing to him as the guy.

          Oh Christ. She was unreasonably calm for someone talking to a soon-to-be escape artist in military grade gear. Anyone too calm around him in the domino was a little too terrifying for his taste, and he wasn’t easily frightened, he told himself.  “I’m sure,” He gruffly replied, disappointment coloring the hard exhale. Switching helmet hands, he knocked on the glass lightly with the back of a gloved hand. Double-enforced plexi. What kind of crazy place was this? Kind of made sense, especially if they had them locked tight. At least they didn’t have bars on the windows, that would remind him a little too much of home.

          “Well, according to the FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, NSA, Mossad, Interpol and KGB, I’m called Red Hood,” He smirked. It was probably only a momentary bullet dodge, but his former training told him to keep his mostly legally dead identity a secret. “My friends usually call me Red, but I’m not so sure you’re a friend.” Ah, the rare circle of trust. Every Bat had one, try as they might to expand it, it always boiled down to the same amount of people you could count on one hand. Jason always liked his a little extra small, he usually couldn’t trust anyone but himself to get the job done. “I’d really love to stay and find out, Doc, but I’ve got a job to do. I’d suggest letting me get out, I can be pretty... persuasive.” 

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akajustjessicajones‌:

She was working a case. Some cheating scumbag married to some bullshit client – she’d actually turned them away before the universe went to shit. (The universes, she corrected herself.) But now she was desperate for distraction, and the idea of just getting drunk left a bad taste in her mouth oddly enough. (She blamed Natasha Stark-Rogers for that one.) So she’d called back, said she’d take it, even lowered her rate by half. This was a charity case, for her.

Jessica was waiting for Scumbag to come out of his office building, just starting to wonder if he really was just working late when the little shithead landed on her shoulders. She felt a jolt of panic at the sudden pressure on her shoulders, even before he bent over to look her in the eye. “Your mask is on too tight,” she hissed, reaching up and tossing him off of her. She held back some of her strength at least. “It’s cutting off blood-flow to your brain. Touch me again, and I’ll strangle you with your own stupid cape,” she informed him bluntly. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, what are you, like twelve?” 

          “Woah!” The boy nearly fell flat on his back. Thankfully, he’d been trained to get out of tosses. He nearly dropped into a handspring, only to roll forward on his feet instead. Way to stick the landing, Todd. He was still smiling as he twirled back to face the other, crossing his arms and propping himself up on one of the building sides. “Mask can’t be too tight, she’s custom fit~ Batman made sure of that, otherwise all the tech can’t fit in it, and believe you me, it’s a lot.” Too much to share? Maybe. At least Jason knew not to share his name. 

          He only sat and smirked at the clearly less-than-amused person, smug silence hanging in the air. He wasn’t one to be messed with; he was scrappy, from Gotham’s streets. He took that to the job every day, which was why Batman totally trusted him, right? Cause sometimes the superstitious cowardly lot needed an extra precursing punch. “What’re you doin’ hangin’ around here anyways? Usually those less-than-savory types do their hidin’ around shadowy places like these.”