"It's catchy and your name is practically begging for a bashing. Why ruin a good thing?" Seriously, the fans picked a guy who had the name Dick over him? What the hell were they thinking? Yep, Jason was still bitter about that. He was still bitter about a lot of things, which was the fuel for all his crazy behavior. Blowing buildings up, going after Dick, refusing help when it was offered to him -- he wasn't right in the head to begin with, but with so much factoring into his emotions Jason couldn't help but behave the way he was now. What did the world really expect for him to do? Sit back, hide in a corner, pretend that everything he had gone through didn't exist at all? No, Jason wasn't going to do that. That was what Bruce did. He hid in the shadows and buried everything deep down. Jason wouldn't bury it. He'd set things right. And he almost had, too; he had been so close and now, after all that time and effort he had put in, he was here. Stuck with Nightwing, of all people.
"It's not the drug dealers that matter to me," Jason shot back. "It's you. I did this for you." Not entirely true. Jason did want the dealers to burn for their crimes. Setting up the explosions in the same city as Dick Grayson was only an added bonus to his actions. The criminals were burning alive in the flames that surrounded them. Now if Jason could add Dickie-Bird here to the mix, his mission would be all the more successful.
The jump from behind didn't go as well as he'd hoped it would. Stupid move -- he had underestimated his opponent. Jason should have known better. Dick wasn't an amateur here; he was one of Bruce's loyal students. He knew what he was doing. His shoulders were quick to slam onto the scolding hot floor. A low grunt escaped his throat upon impact, but Jason didn't dare linger on the floor for more than a half second. Lingering gave Dick time to do more damage. Jason wasn't a fan of that particular idea. Feet kicking out, he aimed for one of Dick's ankles, hoping to knock him down onto a knee. Once the kick was fired out, Jason quickly darted off the floor and flipped over him, fingers itching to reach for one of the guns on his back. It'd be so much easier to just turn around and shoot him. But, no, Jason wanted a fight. Even in the dark, it was easy to tell. There was something dangerous dancing wildly in his eyes. He wasn't finished yet.
"Do you think he would have avenged you?" Jason tried to control his breathing. The smoke was getting thicker. He wouldn't be able to take it much longer. "If the Joker had beaten you to death and ripped you apart, do you think that Bruce would have done more than bury you six feet under?"