metalogs | [Open] Marching to the beat of his drum

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[Open] Marching to the beat of his drum

Who: Jason Todd

robintohood and you
What: Various antics as a civilian and as Red Hood
When: Throughout March
Where: Central City
Content Warnings: PG-13 level violence

Jason:

[The weather is gradually warming up and moods are lifting up for people! Well, lifting up for most people. For the owner of the Descendant Karaoke Bar and Lounge, he’s just briskly working as usual. Maybe he’s being less talkative and more introverted than usual but sometimes that’s what happens when one is busy. He even sometimes still puts on a smile to make customers feel more welcomed.

But that’s assuming people are following his rules. If otherwise, then his vocabulary gets colorful as he snarls out statements like…]

Pull that shit again and your brains get splattered across the floor.

[Okay, maybe how much rougher he’s gotten this month when he’s literally throwing and kicking out belligerent patrons might indicate he’s in a certain other kind of Mood. Don’t worry. He doesn’t usually bite.

On a note that can’t possibly be related, the 4-eyed black and yellow talking cat that used to hang out at the Descendant hasn’t been seen in a while]

Red Hood:

[The Backbreakers are as active as ever in Central City. They had a few setbacks over the last few months but that hasn’t kept them down. They’re maintaining their territory. Illicit goods are still being handled. The racketeering business is sturdy. The chop shops are always having a good time. If you ask a local in their territory, they might say the gang members are also friendly neighborhood vigilantes.
The Backbreakers are Society members after all. Overall, the gang’s recovery has been okay.

So in their territory during an evening, it’s possible you might see the Backbreakers’ leader with a couple of his people outside of a dive bar.

Though the Red Hood’s helmet hides his facial expressions, the way he’s whaling at a rule breaker might indicate he’s not in the best of moods at the moment. Blood splatters on his helmet also indicate how brutal he’s being tonight. He then drags his screaming victim by the hair across the sidewalk]

It’s time to get back to basics.

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((OOC: Got something else in mind? Hit me up! I always welcome new CRs as well. My contact information is on this journal's profile and I'm in the game's Discord server. Feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns as well. My contact information is on this journal's profile and I'm in the game's Discord server. Feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns as well. I also have a feedback post.))

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Donnie doesn't answer right away, still trying to pull his focus back together. His helmeted head lifts again towards Red Hood when he realizes the other's moved closer, hesitantly pulling his hand away to let him have a better look at his arm wound. He's torn between looking himself and not wanting to.

"...y-yeah," he says after a moment, not completely sure why he's being asked, but after another second or two he adds, "Society."

Edited 2024-03-23 04:57 (UTC)

“Good. That’ll make things easier,” Jason says. “Just in case we can’t get a magic healer, what kind of doctor do you need?”

His voice is even as panicking isn’t going make an already grim situation better.

"I don't know I- We never really went to any hospitals or anything back home. Huvrye took me to some...clinic or something back when I was unaffiliated and got stuck under a collapsed museum but I don't remember where it is."

Breathe, just breathe.

"I-is the bullet still...in there?" Will he still be able to use his arm? Donnie's barely keeping his own panic down but his notorious overthink's starting to shift into gear, the emotions he'd been keeping at bay starting to bubble up along with it.

"-ohhhmy gosh I am so sorry, I could have- I should have said something earlier, I just... I-I don't know-"

“I’m a Society member too. They got resources, remember?” Jason says as he tightens the bandage. “You’re in my turf. I know some places we can go. And yeah, the bullet is in there but I need you to try and not panic.”

Jason knows that’s easier said than done but he also can’t let Donnie freak out. Control and focus are what’s more important at the moment.

"-ow." It's understated considering how much it actually hurts, the thought that the bullet's still there just making him feel sick. Donnie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus, nodding at Red Hood's advice.

He's kind of neglected the whole guild resources thing. He's been so used to them all being on their own, and even though Donnie had been dipping his toes into Society workings and Mechanima himself has taken up mentoring him, having anyone to actually go to is still...different. Strange.

For a moment Donnie doesn't say anything, just focusing on breathing. The face shield of his helmet slides back at a thought, and while he hates being seen when he's emotionally compromised, he needs a fresher breath of air.

"Think you can move back down to the street? My bike's parked nearby," Jason says. He's finished triaging. Now it was a matter if Donnie can be moved safely on his own or if Jason will have to haul him.

Donnie nods again. "Ye- yeah, I think I should be able to..." he says pausing only to review his options. At least it helps him get his mind off of his arm a little. He can probably manage the fire escape so long as he doesn't have to climb.

He stoops carefully to pick up his staff, contracting it so he can stow it away, cradling his arm again to keep from jarring it as he starts towards the fire escape. At least Red Hood's helped minimize blood loss or this would be a lot harder.

Jason follows after Donnie and watches him. He's ready to try and catch him if needed. Once they reach the street, Jason takes the lead.

"This way," he says, walking towards where his motorcycle is parked.

There might be a few times where Red Hood will have to intervene, Donnie swaying a little too far here and there. He stumbles on the landing, somehow managing not to end up on his face.

Another nod and his helmet's faceplate lowers again as he follows, muffling his breath.

Jason remains close to Donnie as they walk and occasionally reaches to steady the turtle. About two blocks later, they arrive at his motorcycle.

“Just hold on. It’ll be a short drive,” He says as he sits on his vehicle and gets ready.

Similar to Donnie, he’s glad his face is fully covered by his helmet. He’s very anxious about what tonight’s events could lead to and what it says about him.

Donnie hauls himself behind Red Hood, bracing with his feet as best he can, hesitating before he puts his other hand around him.

"...sorry," he murmurs again.

It's weird riding behind anyone other than one of his brothers, but it's not like he has much of a choice.

“We’ll work out who gets to be mad at who after you’re treated,” Jason replies. His anger remains directed at himself than at Donnie. He starts his motorcycle’s engine and then zooms off towards a Society-sanctioned clinic deep within the Backbreakers’ territory.

That's not something Donnie looks forward to, fully expecting to be the one getting scolded and just as prepared to accept it.

He says nothing more as they go, concentrating on hanging on. At least it gives him time to think. He's still not to keen about having a bullet in his arm. Maybe... He can at least take care of that much. Being in contact with the object in question isn't a problem, and ultimately just breaking the thing down into non-existence would probably be less painless than having it dug out by whatever means.

Breathe out, breathe in.

Jason’s speedy and efficient with his driving. It takes less than 10 minutes before they arrive at the clinic. It’s a 2-story innocuous brick building. However, despite how late the night is, the building’s windows are all lit.

Jason parks near the front entrance and looks back at Donnie.

“Still holding up?” He asks.

He feels... something in his arm, he thinks. It's hard to tell, really, beyond the overlying pain, but without looking he can't really say for sure that he's unmade the bullet. He really doesn't want to look anyway. But it's not the first time he'd used his weird power, and he's familiar enough with the sense of it. Well, they'll find out soon enough.

"Yeah," Donnie replies, just a touch strained, and he hadn't realized how much he'd started leaning against Red Hood during the drive. The adrenaline's long worn out and all that's left is just him trying to bear the pain, telling himself it's nothing compared to what happened to Leo.

“Come on then,” Jason says as he gets off of his motorcycle. Though he’s leading the way, he’s also still keep close to Donnie like before the drive. Jason knows he did his best to triage but it can only hold up for so long.

“Whole place is Society-backed and they know me. It should be quick.”

Very carefully, Donnie dismounts and lets the man lead the way, still hugging his wounded arm close. Maybe he should have transmuted the bullet into a painkiller. Except he wouldn't have been able to calculate the dosage. Ugh.

"Come here often?" A sad attempt at some levity, if difficult to tell. He tried anyway, but he's not really feeling it. "...at least they shouldn't have to worry about the bullet."

Edited 2024-03-25 01:56 (UTC)

Jason lightly huffs, recognizing the attempt at levity. They could both use a little of that tonight.

“Luckily not too often but they know whose turf they’re at,” Jason replies.

They enter the building and Jason is all business again. The staff recognize and greet him. Jason explains that he’s met another Society member and that he’s been shot. He gives the exact caliber the bullet came from and brings up that Donnie isn’t human so perhaps a magic healer would be best. What he doesn’t tell the staff is that he was the one who shot Donnie.

The staff listens and attends to Donnie like any other patient. Perhaps it’s because Jason’s a trusted Society member that not too many questions are raised. However, Jason does mention that he knows he’ll need to do “a job” in exchange for tonight. He seems untroubled by that. Or maybe his helmet makes it easy to hide how he feels about owing a favor.

If Red Hood hadn't given them that cover story, Donnie was ready to pass off the incident as a spot of bad luck with the guy managing to happen upon him at the right time. With his own face covered, it's hard to see the kid's reaction, although when exchanges of services are brought up, he can't help but look in Red Hood's direction.

Being treated by humans is...weird. Being treated in general by anyone not family is weird, to be fair, so Donnie can't help but be a little anxious, trying very hard not to fidget while they have a look at his arm. There's no exit wound, but no bullet to be found either, which while strange is at least one less thing for them to deal with.

He's glad for the mask so they can't see him flinch or anything, but his other hand gives him away for how tightly he balls up his fist or grips onto the edge of wherever he's been made to sit.

Jason’s helmet is physical armor and to some degree, emotional armor. As he watches the medical staff treat Donnie, his hidden facial expression is grim. The adrenaline and single-minded focus on an emergency is beginning to wear off. The guilt of having been so reckless starts to creep in again. If he had just taken a moment to think about who it was as opposed to diving straight into a fight, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

But then again, that’s just how he always works, isn’t it? As usual he’s the street rat thug with a nasty temper. At least he can say he’s consistent.

“How’re you holding?” He asks after a while. The worst of the gunshot wound seems to have been taken care of and Jason could tell from how Donnie tightened up during treatment that it was not the smoothest ride for him.

He can barely remember what had happened the last time he'd had to get treated, but then to be fair, it had been far worse and consciousness was a relative thing. Being alert and aware of what's being done to you is a completely different experience, harder still when you don't have a brother or a friend there to support you. He's still not sure where to slot Red Hood in, short of an acquaintance, not that it makes the situation any less awkward.

"...managing," Donnie says carefully. It's a safe answer, more or less the truth while not betraying how much he'd like to just curl into a ball.

“Not a bad getup you have there,” Jason says. The topic he had put aside earlier now needed to come back. He and Donnie in this context are not friends but not exactly enemies either. More context was needed for what tonight was really about.

"Thanks..."

Under different circumstances Donnie'd be more proud about the feedback, not that he was asking for it. It hasn't been hard for him to figure what people like about helmets and masks that completely conceal a person's face, especially with what all had happened tonight, and he's glad for that bit of a wall to obscure that particular vulnerability. It's too bad it doesn't just shut away emotions completely, he's been having problems dealing with those since the start of the year and it hasn't gotten any easier.

Silence settles tensely after his single-word response, and he has a feeling he knows where this is going. He wants to get it over with but there's still a part of him that dreads having to touch upon it, not sure he has any good answers.

There’s not much use dancing around the subject for too long. Once the staff are done and orders Donnie to rest for a bit so they can monitor his vitals, Jason launches into what they’ve both been dreading.

“What were you trying to do tonight?” Jason’s voice is calm and he leaves his hands to the side. His body language is trying to not come off as too tense like he’s being an interrogator.

It's hard to really rest and the only reason he even manages to slump back against the seat is because the adrenaline's long worn off, leaving him exhausted and empty.

"...I don't have a good answer for that." Donnie says this after some thought, the question not quite phrased as he was expecting but maybe it's better that way. But he still feels like he has no adequate response. He draws in a slow breath.

"I...a lot has happened and...I just needed to be out. To try and just... I don't know. I-I wasn't thinking," he admits, reluctant because thinking is all he ever does, but for once it had been good to not think, to find something that actively got his thoughts off things back at the apartment, about what was going on with his brother. "...I didn't want to think," he says more quietly.

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