Bulletproof
Series note: This is the eighth act of the Red Bird, Blue Bird series. Each story can be read alone, but contains references to the other parts in this series. This occurs shortly after Battleship and the next in the series is Two Hours. Thank you and enjoy!
~O Chapter One O~
"Oracle's annoyed that she was out of town while all the fun stuff happened. She harangued me upside the head about it when she came back this morning," Dick's voice chirped cheerfully through the commlink in Jason's ear. "She says hi by the way. Well, she actually told me to drag your 'ornery, broken-legged ass' in for her to chip you. And for me to tell you to stop tossing cell phones every time she or Bats gets your phone number. But she tells me the same thing about B too; the ornery ass dragging in part anyway."
"She really has a controlling side to her, doesn't she? I don't know how you deal with her," Jason said, lying lengthwise on his couch in his apartment, casted leg raised on the couch's arm, and flipped aimlessly through the local TV channels. It was late, and he was only halfheartedly listening to Nightwing, but he was restless from doing nothing all day and the television wasn't enough to hold his attention right then. "Where are you at now? I know you have to take my part of town too."
"'Have to' is such a strong phrase. Technically, I volunteered." There was a short pause filled only with the faint sounds of a grapple gun being fired and the recoil clicking on. "I happen to be within spitting distance of a certain someone's apartment complex." Another pause, this time silent of background noise. "Speaking of which, it's three AM, shouldn't you be asleep?"
"I'm normally out patrolling right now, you really think I can go to sleep?" Jason remarked, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He gave up channel surfing, clicking it off and tossing the remote onto the coffee table. Laying his head back to stare at the ceiling, he asked, "Why did you volunteer for my patrols anyway?"
"Red Robin went back to Jump City yesterday. Even with Oracle back now, we're still stretched thin. And I know your route better than anyone but you. Just made sense. You probably wouldn't let anyone else patrol it anyway." There was a hint of a grin heard in that last sentence. Jason chose to ignore the comment entirely.
"So is there anything out of the ordinary that you can see?" He moved his legs down, heaved himself up off the couch, and hobbled his way to the kitchen for something to do. Once at the fridge, he pulled out fixings for a bologna sandwich and grabbed a soda. Boredom eating was a good way to make himself fat, he knew, but was bored beyond caring at that point.
"Not really. Still as eerily quiet as, what, the last two months?" There was another pause while Jason sipped his Dr. Pepper. "Hold on. Mugging on Fifth and Drear. Back in a sec." That was only a block away. Nightwing really was close. Jason sat at his splinter-ridden table and munched away at his sandwich in the minutes it took Dick to get back on comm. "Hard to believe B used to patrol Gotham alone for so long. We're down two people and it feels like we're all working overtime."
"Well I only have a few more weeks 'til I'm back out there so if you could just stay alive you'll be fine." Jason hobbled around his apartment in an attempt to pace back and forth. "I'm hating I can't be out there. I'm too bored for my own good. I'm getting out of shape. I want this damn cast off my leg. It itches."
"Well, limping around on it isn't exactly going to help it any. If you want it to heal, sit your butt back down on that couch," Dick replied, like the damned psychic he apparently was. "And stop eating on comms; you're making me hungry."
"Get out of my head, Grayson. Or are you on the roof next door spying on me instead of watching the streets?" Jason quirked an eyebrow with a smirk on his face. "Also, my food, I'll eat if I want."
"Actually I'm in the alley behind your building, I just know you well enough to know the sounds of your pacing." A sigh breezed through the line. "I was running late. Bats wanted me at the 'cave before patrol so I missed dinner. Again. At this rate, I don't know what's going to wear me out first, the day job or the night j—"
The line cut out so suddenly, the following silence was almost painful – right up until the nearby sound of a distant gunshot shattered it a split-second later, nearly stopping Jason's heart right then and there.
"Nightwing?!" Jason paged the communicator; he received no answer, no sound – not static or breathing or a quick "I'm fine", nothing – from the other end. He snatched up his jacket and helmet. Thanking whatever powers that be that Nightwing had told him where he was, Jason limped to the window and yanked it open. He checked that his Glock was loaded, then hopped out onto the fire escape.
Running on pure instinct, Red Hood dashed down the metal steps of the fire escape towards the side of the apartment building. It was loud and hasty and too slow with his busted leg. He jumped the last ten feet into the alley, not able to hold in the pained wince when he landed but kept moving regardless. Rounding the corner to the back alley, he finally stopped to take in his surroundings. Or, tried to, as his glance around was interrupted by a bullet hitting the brick wall inches from his left shoulder. More gunshots cracked around him and Jason rolled out of the way to avoid being hit, coming up in a crouch behind a dumpster against the opposite wall.
He knew the layout though; this was his territory, his comfort zone. One end of this alley was closed off, the other disappearing around the turn he'd just come from, leading out towards the street. All the buildings in the immediate area were three stories or less, the building behind his being the exception at four and his own at five; this left the alley open to fire from two sides or directly above. Shots had all come from one direction – straight ahead – which likely meant only one shooter. Cover was sparse, only two large dumpsters, some trashcans, and a few piles of trash strewn about haphazardly. Red Hood peeked around his cover and glimpsed movement by the second dumpster twenty feet in front of him, barely a flicker of a shadow in the night-darkened alley. He ran in that direction. More bullets cracked into the sidewalk beneath him scattering tiny chunks of concrete over his booted feet.
He found Nightwing, tucked against the filthy metal, clutching at the side of his neck; blood seemed to be everywhere, seeping through blue and black clad fingers, and Jason's first instinct was to check the damage. A ping of lead against steel pulled his attention back to the more urgent matter. One thing at a time. Red Hood drew his gun and returned fire in the general direction the shots came from. He couldn't get a beat on the shooter's exact location, the sounds echoing weirdly off the nearby buildings confused direction. Crouched down beside Nightwing, peeking around the corner of the dumpster, Red Hood got on comm to touch base with someone immediately. "This is Red Hood, Nightwing is down, he's been shot. He needs help." Another shot, just missing him, and this time he shot three rounds himself, aimed at the muzzle flash barely visible in the distance. "I repeat, Nightwing is down."
His comm crackled to life with a familiar brisk voice. "This is Oracle. Sending Batman and Robin to Nightwing's location. Vitals are dropping. How bad is he?"
"Looks like he's been hit in the neck but I haven't gotten a full workup of how he is. I'm still being shot at. Seems to be conscious, though. Couldn't've been more than two minutes."
"Situation?" Responses were clipped, brusque, and to the point.
"Sniper, one shooter. Rooftops, got us pinned in the alley." Red Hood switched his helmet visor to night vision, zooming in on his target. More gun shots were fired, missing by inches. "Taking him down now." With a visual on his target, Red Hood shot off a few rounds of his own. He saw the shooter jerk back, so knew he had at least clipped them, but the sniper seemed to take that as a cue to bolt. Before the culprit took off, he managed to get a glimpse of their face. "Damnit! I know who the shooter is. It's Arnold Smith, an up-and-coming hitman that calls himself 'Sharp Shot'."
"Arnold Smith? The Black Gate escapee?" Oracle asked as Jason gave the sniper's nest a last assessing glance for danger. "What's his beef with the two of you?"
"Me and 'Wing dealt with him a couple months back. We put him away after he took a shot at 'Wing last time. But now he's actually succeeded. He's gone now."
"Assess Nightwing. Field treatment. Batman and Robin are still fifteen minutes out, top speed."
Not bothering to holster his weapon, Red Hood knelt beside Nightwing, who was still conscious, slumped sitting against the dumpster with his legs splayed randomly. Jason didn't even notice his voice soften when he addressed his brother. "Hey, 'Wing, I gotta check you out. Oracle's orders. Let me see, okay?" Red Hood took a look as Nightwing slowly moved his left hand out of the way for him. Blood immediately began to pour from the small hole just to the right of his Adam's apple. "Okay, good. You're good." He carefully examined the wound, checking for an exit. "Hey, Oracle, it's a clean shot, through and through. Bleeding bad, but no arterial spray. He's still awake and breathing."
"Put pressure on both sides of the wound, just try not to impede his breathing—"
"I know how to treat a fucking GSW," Red Hood snapped, before calming with an annoyed huff. "I just thought I would relay what was wrong back to you." He pressed one hand to his brother's neck, stretching his fingers enough to cover both the entry and exit wounds.
He expected her to snap back at him, as per their usual, but instead she quieted her voice. "Alfred's alerting Leslie. She should be at the Batcave by the time you all get there. Hood? Look after him. Oracle out."
No fuck, Red Hood would look after him. Dick may be an annoying, self-sacrificing asshat, but he was also Jason's brother, not to mention the only family member that he actually managed to get along with. Jason decided not to look too closely at the fact he still considered them his family. He also chose to ignore the significance of Oracle – bossy bitch incarnate – trusting him with the life of her best friend and on-again-off-again boyfriend. He'd examine progress made when his brother wasn't bleeding out in front of him. Speaking of which. . . "Nightwing, how are you feeling?" He bent his head down into his brother's line of sight to make sure he had his attention. "Sharp Shot got ya good, didn't he?"
Nightwing's reply was breathless, but not labored. "Lenny?" He huffed out a pained laugh. "Guess he wasn't as dull as we thought he was."
"C'mon man, really with the puns already? You just got shot!" He was glad to see that Dick still had his sense of humor, but this was ridiculous. Nightwing grinned lopsidedly up at him as Red Hood reached into a pouch on his belt and grabbed a handful of gauze and a roll of bandages, his other hand still firmly held against the source of the blood.
"Hey, don't shoot the messenger." He swallowed painfully, the muscles contracting spasmodically under Red Hood's hand.
Rolling his eyes, Red Hood took the gauze and started packing the wound to slow the bleeding. "Just shut up and stay awake. You and your damn puns." He started wrapping the bandaging while awkwardly holding the gauze in place.
"You have to admit, his aim is getting better. There's not-a lotta me left e'ssposed." Nightwing's words slurred slightly, hands resting limply in his lap instead of animating his speech. A fine tremor had begun to set in. "Quite-a learning c'rve. Sharp ss'udent."
Wrapping the wound was proving troublesome. He was too afraid of strangling his brother to get the bandage tight enough to actually stop the bleeding. Blood pooled crimson along the column of his throat, collecting against the collar of Nightwing's uniform before dripping in lines over the blue bird insignia on his armored chest. "Do I have to gauze your mouth shut for you to be quiet? You need to rest so just shut up." The gauze was already being soaked through with blood, so he just piled more on top and tied the wrappings as tight as he dared. It would have to do for the few minutes until Batass and demon child got there.
"Alright, a'right. I can . . . take a hint." He helpfully shut his mouth. But a moment later, his eyelids seemingly flickered shut of their own accord, barely visible through the lenses of his domino mask.
"No, no 'Wing you gotta stay with me." Red Hood tapped his cheek to rouse him.
He was rewarded with his brother's voice, slurred and tired sounding though it was. "M'wake." He batted weakly at Red Hood. "You tol' me t'be quiet," he explained in a whine.
"Yeah, well, 'quiet' doesn't mean 'go to sleep'. Just, stay awake or I start slapping instead, got it?"
"Tired," Nightwing said by way of a subject change. Or maybe in answer, Red Hood wasn't really sure. "Nmm – cold."
Red Hood glanced around with a sigh. "That'd be the shock setting in." He grabbed his brother and gently moved him from his half seated slump; cradling his head and trying to ignore the pained hitches in Nightwing's breathing, Red Hood slid him down to lay flat on his back. He quickly tugged off his jacket and folded it under Nightwing's head, then stood up and retrieved a handful of nearby trash bags, using them to raise his brother's feet off the ground. The suit was insulated, so Red Hood didn't bother with trying to keep Nightwing warm. He sat beside Nightwing's head facing the open end of the alley, one hand keeping pressure on the wound, the other gripping the Glock. "Hey, man, I need you to just stay awake, ten more minutes, okay?" They'd made a lot of noise the past few minutes, so Red Hood was wary of what kind of attention they could have attracted. "You can do this. Just talk to me."
"You're actually . . . asking me to talk?" Nightwing's breathless voice was incredulous. But he seemed more alert at the moment and the slurring had lessened at least, whatever relief that might have been.
"Yes, so I can make sure you stay awake. Just no puns." Jason's apartment was in the worst part of town, the heart of his usual patrol; maybe the gunshots would just go ignored. Then again, Dick tended to be a fucking trouble magnet. Red Hood wouldn't risk it, not with his brother easy pickings.
Nightwing shifted slightly, stopping abruptly with a grunt. Red Hood guessed that the shock induced numbness was giving way to pain now. "No puns? What's there even to say then?"
Red Hood rolled his eyes. "Anything else but puns. Even though I know you'll find a way to slip one in." When Nightwing gave no reply, Red Hood continued, fumbling for a topic to latch on to. "So, my girl came and saw me yesterday. She wanted to see how I was doing, and she brought food." He chuckled, "Way to a man's heart, right?"
"Your heart, f'sure. 'Ssshould give 'er some of Al's recipes." Slur back in full; pain must have been hitting hard then. Well, shit.
He wondered if he should reload his gun. He would have needed a free hand to do it, but both of his were busy. Could he risk a dropped guard or renewed bleeding to grab a new clip from his pocket? How many rounds did he have left in his magazine? Stupid, he berated himself, should have been counting shots. Rookie mistake. "I think I'm actually growing on her. Or she's actually curious on who I really am. I dunno."
"'m glad."
Red Hood tensed at the sound of footsteps near the mouth of the alley hidden around the bend, braced for an attack, but the footsteps faded out as whoever it was carried on down the street. Only once he was sure they were alone again did he let his tension ease and continue the conversation, senses open for any disturbance. "How are things between you and Oracle?"
Nightwing visibly forced himself awake at the shift in subject. "Getting better again. Not together, but better."
"Better how, if you're not together?"
"'Least she's not avoiding me anymore," was the forlorn reply.
"What even happened between you two?" Red Hood asked, mostly to keep his brother talking, but he was also honestly curious. Dick was a people person, but he usually kept his personal problems private; it was vaguely frustrating.
"I keep telling her that it doesn't matter, but she keeps getting cold feet anyway." Seeming to realize what he had said, Nightwing gave a feeble wave of his hand as though to erase the words, then groaned in disgust at his own expense. "Not . . . 't's not a pun. Don't tell her I said that."
Red Hood tilted his head back against the dumpster he was leaning against, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "I won't, man." A headache was beginning to build behind his eyes and his leg was cramping up. "Bats and Rob should be here any minute. I just still need you to stay awake."
"She found the ring," he mumbled quietly, seemingly out of nowhere. It stopped Jason dead for a moment. "Before she left town. Then she left me. Again."
The voice was soft, hardly there; Dick probably didn't even realize he was saying it. Jason suddenly felt as though he was intruding on something he shouldn't. "I don't know what to say, man. Just give her time, I guess. Hopefully things'll just work out, you know?" No reply was forthcoming. After a beat of silence, Red Hood glanced at his brother. "Nightwing?"
Nightwing had been lying boneless and still since Red Hood had moved him, except his occasional shifting or hand twitching. Right then, he was completely slack, head held upright only by Red Hood's grip on his neck, laying in a half halo of blood. Now that Red Hood was really looking, there really did seem to be blood everywhere; glistening on Nightwing's upper torso and arms, smeared on the concrete where his brother must have dragged himself to safety before he'd gotten to the alley, dripping tackily on the filthy dumpster and nearby trash, pooling beneath the both of them, soaking into the white bandage against his greying skin. . . Too much blood, too quickly. And Nightwing wasn't responding.
"'Wing, hey, no no. Wake up, man." Red Hood dropped the gun, crouching over his brother. He tapped his cheek rougher than before. "Talk to me, 'Wing. Stay awake! Tell me – tell me about Oracle. Talk to me about Barbara." He whispered the name into his brother's ear, but there was still no reaction. He jostled his shoulder, same zero result.
"Fuck!" He reached up to run a worried hand through his hair, only for his fingers to glance off the metal helmet he had mostly forgotten about. With a frustrated snarl, he yanked it off and tossed it aside without another thought; he still had his red domino mask and the helmet was just getting in his way. The overwhelming wash of blood that assailed his senses was an unfortunately familiar scent. Jason tugged off the glove of his free hand with his teeth, not even registering the taste of blood on his tongue. He placed two fingers to his brother's carotid vein, hovering his cheek just in front of Dick's parted lips to check for a breath. Both were too quick and too shallow and the bleeding still hadn't stopped, but for the time being, Dick was still breathing and his heart was still beating. Jason blew out a hard breath, whispering barely under his breath, "fuck."
"Red Hood." He managed not to jump at the sudden voice, though it was a close thing. His gun was in his hand and pointed at the intruder on reflex, but he lowered it a moment later when he saw it was Batman and Robin in the alley with him. "Oracle briefed us on our way here."
Robin marched past both of them, dropping across from Jason at Dick's side without a word or a glance. Pulling off a glove, Robin preformed the same checks Jason had just done. "He's still alive. Hood managed that much, at least." His voice was scratched out with hardly a hint of strain; Jason knew better, though, and could easily see the overly stiff movements and the hidden tension in the small frame.
Sensing he was no longer needed, and more than willing to pass off his brother's care to more capable hands, Jason straightened up and stepped back. Batman dropped in to scoop up the unconscious hero, heading towards the mouth of the alley with Robin close on his heels.
Jason snatched up his discarded gear and followed after. He exited the alley just as Nightwing was being placed in the passenger seat of the Batmobile, Robin climbing in behind him to monitor vitals and keep pressure on the sluggishly still bleeding wound. Batman turned to address Jason.
"We need to get him to the Batcave as soon as possible," Batman stated quickly.
"I am going with. I can follow on my bike." Jason's voice was firm; he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.
Batman moved towards the driver's side, but still replied. "You need to stay off that leg."
"Damn my leg!" he shouted, before lowering his voice to just over a whisper. "Dick is hurt. We need to go and not argue. So I am going whether you like it or not." And with that, Jason headed down the street to get his bike, stuffing his helmet on as he went. No force on Earth was going to stop him in that moment.
Red Hood hobbled up to his bike and got on, starting the engine; the roar of it was met with the sound of the Batmobile peeling out. He took off towards the Batcave a moment later.
To be continued. . .
*Edited for content and quality: 11/28/17