Jason Todd // Red Hood (robin_outa_hell) wrote in newalliance, @ 2016-10-22 08:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | red hood |
Who: Jason
When: 10/21
Where: East Gotham
What: Jason has misgivings, but does what Talia requested.
This was a general pain in the ass. Jason scowled as he hauled himself up the last of the fire escape rungs and bellied over onto the roof. Right now, given how the concussive disruptor was wedged across his back, that was pretty literal, but the whole situation made him grumpy and disinclined to play nicely. Not that it was unusual, these days, but maybe that's why it sucked so damn much to be dancing to the tune of yet another person's snapped fingers.
Talia was right - or at least not wrong. This wasn't any worse than he usually did; he'd done pretty well the same to the Hydra nest, and the splinter from the League was just as bad. Talia might get his back up just now, but so did most of the people he worked with and for, and she at least was exactly what she appeared to be and didn't expect him to be anything other than what he was.
But there was still something different about her wanting him to shake the tree - do her dirty work - and Captain Rogers asking him to help him rescue Nygma. Something that had nothing to do with flags or legitimacy and everything to do with personality and reactions. Talia was the last person he should judge, the first person who's side he should be on. But damned if her batted eyes (metaphoric, mostly) and subtle reminders of what she'd done for him didn't make him want to hit something.
Conveniently, there was a target under him. Jason rolled to the other edge of the roof, protecting the concussive disruptor, and eased up just enough to glance over, sweeping the street. He marked the target building, the guards posted discretely, as if no more than usual street traffic, and dropped back down to prep the weapon.
Big and bulky and delicately complicated as it was, the diruptor had exactly one thing going for it: it was fast. He rolled up to a knee, the barrel resting over his shoulder, sighted up in the general direction, and fired. A single burst did the trick; the building jumped as if hit with its own personal earthquake, windows bursting, foundation bucking, support beams tipping and shedding weight. The guards shouted, running, and Jason was already too far gone over the back wall of his post to know if they were going into the building or out to confront him, the disruptor banging against the back of his thighs with every jump and landing.
They might not know what hit them, but they knew they'd been hit; he wasn't about to get into a firefight he couldn't win on the grounds he really didn't want to fight for her anymore. Now maybe he could get back to his usual evening of punching people for fun and as a shitty coping strategy.