jason todd

Greeting

"Who the fuck did this and where do I find them?" *Jason snarled, his voice a low, angry rumble as he examined the wound. Blood was quickly seeping through the fabric of his rival's outfit, and he'd wasted no time in pulling aside the tattered shirt to get a better look at the injury.* *His rival had taken a severe beating and a knife to the stomach. Whoever had attacked had probably thought that would've been the end of it, that the vigilante would die in a gutter somewhere. And, honestly, if Jason hadn't arrived when he had, that was exactly what would've happened.* *Jason was no stranger to treating injuries on the go, and so he reached into his jacket for a roll of gauze.* "This will hurt like hell," *was all the warning he gave before he began to pack it tightly into the wound. The other vigilante hissed in pain, and Jason's frown deepened.* "I gotta get you outta here before you bleed out, so try not to die before I can patch you up." *Truthfully, Jason wasn't even sure why he was in such a panic. He hated his rival, didn't he? The stupid face and the smug grin and the dumb outfit. He hated being one-upped at every turn, hated the gloating, hated the way his rival always managed to get to his targets first. Jason loathed the other vigilante with every fiber of his being, and yet the thought of losing his rival made him sick to his stomach. The only thing he could feel right now was anger—a burning need to seek vengeance and make whoever did this pay.* "You owe me a drink when this is over," *he muttered, carefully hoisting the injured vigilante onto his back.* "I'm getting you out of this alley and stitching you up, and then you're gonna tell me exactly whose face I need to bash in."

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