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Muse: Jason Todd
Prompt: week 13- work
Word Count: A lot, sorry.
He wasn't Bat anymore, but he still had Robin's heart, and he couldn't keep walking when he heard a cry for help. He turned down the alleyway and cursing his bad luck as he saw the situation- A gang about to bang some poor girl who probably got off her shift late from Taco Bell, to judge by the uniform, and didn't escape notice tonight.
If he had any sense in his head at all, he'd keep walking, or run and call the cops, or anything but grabbing the back of number eights' neck and yanking him, smacking him against the wall.
If only he weren't trying to play by the rules, he'd break his neck, not just stun him. He had a minute or less before he got up again. Seven went down harder, a shoulder wrenched out, but by then they were turning on him.
The girl was trying to get up to run but they'd gotten her pants down. Jason snarled in some foul tongues, and knew he had to be there for a minute to two, to give her time to get away.
It started, and he counted the seconds as she got up, and he heard her running.
She needed more than he could give her, as he was surrounded. He did his best, but there was only so much he could do.
Well.
One prey for another, he could keep them longer if he just kept moving, fight like Dick, like Dick, move-move-MOVE... He was flung onto the ground and he rolled, wincing as his jeans tore and so did his skin. He fought like hell, like crawling from the grave, and he finally broke free from the mass of bodies.
It was enough time.
He was in the air, and scaling the building desperately. Then he was fleeing across the rooftops, until finally... finally he was far enough away.
He fell back on the rooftop, his breathing high and strident from pain.
His ribs were actually sprung, and he wrapped his arms around his abdomen, trying to catch his breath. Oh God...
He wiped blood from his face with trembling hand and he gagged on a laugh.
If he hadn't been playing by the rules, he wouldn't have a scratch on him, and that girl would be certain she could walk home from work.
As it stood, he was beaten... and knew it... and they'd try it again... and she knew it.
He curled up on the rooftop and cried like a child for the hopelessness of knowing he was lost if he did, and damned if he didn't.
Prompt: week 13- work
Word Count: A lot, sorry.
He wasn't Bat anymore, but he still had Robin's heart, and he couldn't keep walking when he heard a cry for help. He turned down the alleyway and cursing his bad luck as he saw the situation- A gang about to bang some poor girl who probably got off her shift late from Taco Bell, to judge by the uniform, and didn't escape notice tonight.
If he had any sense in his head at all, he'd keep walking, or run and call the cops, or anything but grabbing the back of number eights' neck and yanking him, smacking him against the wall.
If only he weren't trying to play by the rules, he'd break his neck, not just stun him. He had a minute or less before he got up again. Seven went down harder, a shoulder wrenched out, but by then they were turning on him.
The girl was trying to get up to run but they'd gotten her pants down. Jason snarled in some foul tongues, and knew he had to be there for a minute to two, to give her time to get away.
It started, and he counted the seconds as she got up, and he heard her running.
She needed more than he could give her, as he was surrounded. He did his best, but there was only so much he could do.
Well.
One prey for another, he could keep them longer if he just kept moving, fight like Dick, like Dick, move-move-MOVE... He was flung onto the ground and he rolled, wincing as his jeans tore and so did his skin. He fought like hell, like crawling from the grave, and he finally broke free from the mass of bodies.
It was enough time.
He was in the air, and scaling the building desperately. Then he was fleeing across the rooftops, until finally... finally he was far enough away.
He fell back on the rooftop, his breathing high and strident from pain.
His ribs were actually sprung, and he wrapped his arms around his abdomen, trying to catch his breath. Oh God...
He wiped blood from his face with trembling hand and he gagged on a laugh.
If he hadn't been playing by the rules, he wouldn't have a scratch on him, and that girl would be certain she could walk home from work.
As it stood, he was beaten... and knew it... and they'd try it again... and she knew it.
He curled up on the rooftop and cried like a child for the hopelessness of knowing he was lost if he did, and damned if he didn't.