Nightwing's method of attack was half effective. Jason had been expecting the tactical approach - Dick wasn't an idiot, after all - and so when Nightwing had aimed a shot at him with his escrima stick, Jason decided to make use of his new friend. With a forceful shove, Jones found himself barreling into the escrima, thoroughly getting whacked with the blow that was meant for no other than Jason himself. Pushing Jones away was a distraction. That was exactly what Nightwing had wanted. What Nightwing hadn't wanted was for Jason to recover from the distraction as soon as he had. Yet shoving Jones away had cost him a couple seconds, and with that time lost Jason could only side-sweep the take-down kick enough so that it was more of a really painful kick to the ribs.
Beneath his mask, the Red Hood grit his teeth as a sharp knock of pain steered it's way through his side. He didn't bother to assess the potential damage - instead, Jason steeled his body enough so that he didn't stumble back from the force of the blow. Using that to his advantage, Jason shot an elbow out at his opponent, hoping to hit Nightwing square in the face. All the while, he drew out his taser with his other hand, flipped it on, and attempted to drive a particularly strong jolt of electricity into Dick's side.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jason noted that Jones was hobbling to his feet in a panic. He'd have to break away from Nightwing soon if he wanted to make sure his pal didn't get away. If he could steer clear of Dick long enough to land a good, solid punch to Jones' head, he'd be able to leave him unconscious while he put Bruce's golden boy down for a nap of his own.
Bruce. A surge of irritation flooded through him. Why didn't he care? Where had he gone wrong? Why wouldn't he listen? Jason would have killed Joker for him. He would have. Didn't that mean something? Of course it did. It had to. So why didn't Batman understand that?