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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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.

That was not the kind of response Jason was expecting nor did he expect to understand all too well the feelings Donnie’s trying to explain. Feeling overwhelmed and suffocating in a situation and needing to do something physical to break out of that miasma is a mental state Jason’s been in more times than he cares to count.

His short temper certainly makes launching into something dangerous easy. Or maybe his short temper is a result of how many times Jason felt like he needed something to pull him away from the much uglier and darker feelings he was facing.

With the new context given, Jason can see easily how Donnie’s actions are all things he probably would’ve done too. It’s… an uncomfortable recognition.

“I get it,” Jason says quietly, after an uncomfortably long silent moment. “Whatever shitty thing you’ve gone through, you got sick and tired of that and needed something else.”

The silence that follows only makes Donnie tense again, waiting for a scolding, anything really, than what actually does come. He lifts his head, blinking at Red Hood, not that either can see the expressions behind the other's mask.

'Sick and tired' sounds a little harsh to him, but that's...basically what it boils down to. It's not his brother that Donnie's mad at, but the lack of knowing where exactly his frustration should be directed, where it's even sourced, that's been eating at him, and Leo just served as a constant reminder for what had happened, what could have happened.

"...yeah," he says with a heavy sigh. "I still should have said something. I...I used you as an excuse." An escape.

Jason shrugs. His body language is still one of someone not offended. He’s still much more upset at himself, feeling like he should’ve had a better handle on the situation. He’s the one who was supposed to have been trained by the world’s greatest detective.

“I’ve been a lot worse. That wasn’t even my first rooftop race,” He says.

"Not surprised there," Donnie says, with maybe just the tiniest snort. "...it was kind of fun though. Which...I know is kind of reckless to say, looking at things in hindsight." He could have gotten a lot more injured, especially given that Red Hood hadn't recognized who he was. From Donnie's standpoint, he knew who he was fighting and conveniently forgotten that it possibly wasn't vice-versa until that shot rang out.

"...I meant it about not telling Huvrye or Leo," he says. "Especially since..." How many people actually know what happened to Leo? Donnie decides it's not something he needs to throw around, so he shakes his head, tucking it all away again. "A-anyway, Leo was just kind of starting to change his mind about you so I don't want that to get messed up because of me."

Clearly more had happened before their encounter tonight but Jason has to let it go for now. Donnie’s got a lot on his mind.

“Not like we’re drinking buddies anyway. They won’t know,” Jason says. “Should I be flattered about your brother then?”

"Well. No, probably not. I mean, he already had some kind of idea about you after something about Huvrye getting shot, and it sounded like he was making it all a you-thing, which was why I said I'd talk to you instead, that other time." Donnie waves it off; not important, but it's some context to why Leo had been sneaking around that time Donnie had been asking about the D'Amicos.

"Enough's happened with him already. I don't want to add this on top of it." Knowing Leo, he'd probably find a way to blame himself. Maybe he was already blaming himself for things, and Donnie needs him to not bury himself deeper. It'd help if he could get himself out of a similar hole.

“Fine. Bad things sometimes happen when you’re around me,” Jason says, trying to keep his tone matter-of-fact. “It’s a hazard when you do the kind of work I do.”

Not that Jason necessarily relishes in it. Sometimes, he accepts it as the nature of being a violent vigilante and a crime lord. Other times though, it makes him think that maybe Bruce was right that he’s a danger to himself and others. Tonight feels like the latter.

Edited 2024-03-31 23:32 (UTC)

"Not all the time," Donnie says, shrugging a little and glad that the helmet hides his wince from the movement. "...but I get it. You don't gain a rep like that otherwise."

He fingers the cuff of a sleeve, anxious as the quiet comes tumbling back all too eagerly between their words.

"...you mad at me?" He has to ask. He'd be mad at him- he is mad at himself.

Jason feels another pang of guilt at the question and is again grateful for his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m not,” he replies. “Just was confused to what you were doing.”

It's a small reassurance, but the admission still makes Donnie hunch up his shoulders again. He isn't proud of being a source of confusion, especially when things had gotten so dangerous. But he'd already tried to explain away his reasons as best he could figure, yet it hadn't felt like a good excuse at all.

What is wrong with him! How would this make Leo feel any better? What would've happened if Red Hood hadn't just decided to go for a shot in the arm? Donnie's expression is hidden but his posture is telling, body language giving him away as he wraps his arms gingerly around himself, hoping that sniffle hadn't been too loud. He's so tired of the tears and the last thing he wants to do is go back to the apartment and cry on his brother again. It's hard when there's no one else to go to, and after losing Leo, Donnie's felt that loneliness so much more acutely.

"...can we go yet?" he asks quietly.

Jason’s own guilt grows as he watches Donnie become more visibly upset. Whatever else had happened to him, it was clear it was taking a toll on him. Jason feels like he made it worse. He wouldn’t exact label Donnie as a traditional friend but he does consider him someone he wouldn’t have shot at with so little thought. The kid doesn’t deserve that.

“Not yet,” He murmurs. He doesn’t want Donnie to unnecessarily move and aggravate his newly patched-up gunshot wound. Then, after taking a moment on what to do next, Jason continues to talk. “I promise you I’m not mad. You’re doing more than enough kicking on yourself that you don’t need that.”

His disappointment at that shows as he shifts his position, slumping a little as he keeps favoring his left. He sighs.

"Okay..." It's not that he didn't believe Red Hood the first time, but that acknowledgment seems an odd bit of needed confirmation. Who was he to measure things in levels of being miserable? It seems Donnie keeps finding new highs...or maybe lows is more appropriate.

He falls silent again, mostly because he's not sure what else to say. The least he can do is focus on breathing so he won't start to break down again.

"It's okay to let it out," Jason says softly. The harsh growl Jason uses as the Red Hood lessens this time as he continues to be sympathetic to Donnie. It hurts to watch someone like this.

That's an invitation Donnie wasn't expecting, more so the surprisingly almost gentle tone. He hadn't wanted to cry in front of someone who's virtually a stranger, but then maybe that's better than crying in front of someone he knows. It's a toss-up, really. Not that his opinion seems to matter when the tears readily fall.

He'll probably absolutely deny that this happened, later, but right now there's no escaping the sobs after one manages to slip.

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