"Help me? I'm not the one that needs to be helped! You've all got your heads stuck up your asses so far, you can't even see how pathetic your attempts at doing the right thing really are. You have no idea what it takes. None of you do - especially not him. That's why the Joker was still running around after I died. That's why the Joker got to show up here long enough to kill and hurt and destroy everything in his way. You think you're a hero, Dick, just 'cause you put the bad guys in jail for a little timeout? You think you're doing the right thing when they get back on the streets and start all over again?"
Dammit. He was running his mouth. He was smarter than that. The distraction was a small one, but it was still enough to give Nightwing the time he needed to dig in and land his attack.
Jason grit his teeth immediately, taking the hit to his ribs. Any other person would have fallen over from the pain of the strike, which had landed close to where he'd been kicked at earlier. Fortunately, the Red Hood had a pretty high tolerance for pain. Not just because he was the kid who had gotten beaten to death with a crowbar, but because he had learned that letting pain overpower everything else in a fight would be the easiest way to get him killed.
Kill or be killed. No time to cry over boo-boos in the meantime. It was a simple enough logic.
Determined, Red Hood pressed his way back into the fight. Gloved fists struck out at Nightwing fast, moving in to strike where he could and dropping down to deflect any blows sent his way whenever it was necessary. With a quick side-step, Jason twisted away from an attack and tried to grab Dick by the shoulder, doing so in the hopes that he'd be able to slam the helmet-like surface of his mask into his face. The head was always a major striking point. The more he hit Dick in the face, the more likely he'd be to lose focus. And if he hit him hard enough? It was bye-bye blue birdy.