AN: You guys suck. I said-I FUCKING SAID-'tell me if I'm about to get shot in the back! I don't wanna die!' And what do you do? Let me get almost murdered-for real this time-by a cannibal. Fine. Go ahead. Get mugged. I'll help…the mugger, not you ingrates. Jeeze.

Ignore the drama queen.

Hell, you think bein' mugged is bad? I'll dangle your asses over Mercy Bridge! DURING A LIGHTNING STORM!

Batman would probably have to show up, you do know that.

God dammit…IN BROAD DAYLIGHT, THEN.

Alfred would come.

…book it, brats, before I risk it anyway. I find out any of you so much as THOUGHT about swiping a pack of gum…I DON'T RESPAWN, YOU KNOW. This isn't a video game. THERE ARE NO DO-OVERS.

Fight scenes are hard, and THIS ASSHOLE can't just pick fights with one assassin, oh, no. He has to piss off the whole bar.

Part of my charm. ;)

AndAnotherOneBitesTheDust -Gee. Thanks. And partly because if I die, it might be stuck in my apartment for who knows how long, partly because the last thing either of us wants or deserves is for me to come of a nightmare, mistake it for the Joker, and shoot it.

Some people (Bruce…) accuse Jason of not thinking things through, of being impulsive.

They're not always wrong. He's not thinking now, just moving-whirling to the side just as a knife strikes the scarred counter.

Well, he did say he was looking for Flamingo…

He grabs the nearest thing-a chair-and swings it up in time to block a knife. There's a cheer from behind him and aw, crap, they probably wouldn't mind killing me.

Not today, motherfuckers.

He vaults behind the counter, ignoring the bartender's angry screech, and yanks her down. She tries to bite him, only to hurl herself flat against the floor when a bullet shatters a bottle behind her.

"Stay here!"

"Why'd you have to come in?"

Oh, this thankless job…

He fires back, hits a shoulder and a framed autograph (probably forged) and ducks down again when Flamingo shoots at him.

"He is mine!"

Jason's always wondered if assassins have an honor code…

"You can't afford me!" he shouts back, taking another shot. On the ground, the bartender looks torn between frightened and pissed. He's hoping she stays scared-if she's pissed enough to get involved, she might get herself killed.

Flamingo laughs and that's it, Jason's been laughed at by enough psychos in his life.

Okay. Flamingo's two tables away from the bar. There's three other guys scattered directly between them, six others in general. The bartender doesn't seem inclined to burst out, broken bottle in hand.

Piece of cake.

He fires again, this time at the closest kneecap.

Or…tries to. The gun clicks.

Sonofa-

He's throwing the gun before he can really think about it. It nails the guy in the forehead, bounces off, and skitters back over the counter.

Holy shit, that actually worked.*

The guy he hit is looking at him with a dazed and insulted expression. It promptly turns to pain when Jason shoots him in the knee.

"Fuck-"

He goes down when a bullet whizzes past his head, hitting the guy behind him, and Jason takes a shot at a hanging lamp. It falls, clipping somebody's shoulder and shattering on the sticky floor, sending glass shards everywhere.

"You asshole!"

"Priorities!"

"My bar is my priority, fucknut!"

He needs to get away from the bartender.

He jumps over the counter, narrowly dodging a bullet to the head, and shoots down another lamp. This one hits somebody head-on and they crumple, gun skittering under a table.

Flamingo apparently doesn't feel as though his claim to Jason's potential corpse is being respected, because he shoots one of the last few in the head, sending brains and bits of bone all over the floor. Jason can't bring himself to care.

He can, however, bring himself to use it to his advantage.

There's two more, and one of 'em's already stumbling from when the first lamp clipped him. Jason takes a swing at him, misses, and lets the guy retaliate. Flamingo shoots him, too, and Jason staggers back, trips over a chair (okay, that was an accident) and goes down.

Flamingo's laughing, teeth bared, and he takes his sweet time swaggering over. He's not gonna lie-any plan that ended with him flat on his back, watching a laughing lunatic come towards him…may not have been his best.

"Still feeling our last encounter? I am not."

Liar. He's trying not to, but Jason can see him favoring his leg a little.

"Screw you."

"I expected more. Alas…"

Come on. Another few inches, man, come on…

Gotcha.

Flamingo brings his gun up just as Jason sweeps his legs out from under him, bringing him toppling forward. He grabs that fucking pink jacket and yanks him on top of him, the pressure triggering the electricity.

ZAP!

The sight's almost comical-Flamingo's eyes widen and his mouth flaps for a few seconds before he passes out, twitching like a fish. Jason kicks him off and scrambles to his feet. The last guy's booked it. The bar…is a mess.

The bartender pokes her head out from behind the counter.

"You."

"Sorry-"

"Get out."

"I didn't mean to-"

"If I see you again," she hisses, voice shaking with rage, "I will shoot you. And then I will run you over with my car. And then I will cut your fucking balls off and make you eat them."

"I'll just…take this with me-"

"Leave."

He turns off the body-taser, hefts Flamingo off the floor and over his shoulder, and inches towards the door.

"I'm really sorry-"

She hisses at him-hisses-and he shuts up and inches faster.

He takes Flamingo to the nearest rooftop, sets him down, frisks him, and wakes him up by pinning him to the roof with a knife through his shoulder.

"Rise and shine!"

"You-"

"Me." He waves and reaches over, flicks the knife a few times. "We gotta talk."

Flamingo snaps at his hand and he pulls it back.

"There is nothing to talk about."

"There is, though. I wanna talk to the guy who hired you."

Flamingo chuckles through clenched teeth.

"You are crazy."

"So are you." He flicks the knife again. "So where is he?" He doesn't get an answer. That's fine. He has the man's phone. "Don't go anywhere."

Yes, he is an asshole. So sue him.

It's fingerprint-protected and he grabs the nearest index-attached to the pinned arm. Flamingo hisses and tries to yank his hand away, but is unsuccessful.

"I'm in." he mutters, because Babs always used to do that (maybe she still does?) when she logged into the Batcomputer and it stuck.

Flamingo is nothing if not professional-there are no texts and his call log is empty. Jason's betting his voicemail's empty, too. Humph.

Oh, well.

"We've got a couple of choices." he says, stowing the phone in his belt after changing the security on it. "One, I can pull that knife down and you can bleed out in two minutes, tops. Two, you can tell me where you met Sionis and how that went, and I might feel generous enough to take it out carefully." He leans over, hand on the hilt. "Or three, you can keep bein' a stubborn prick and I break your teeth."

Flamingo twists his head, looks at the knife.

"I met him in a warehouse." he says, and Jason has the uneasy feeling this is going to end badly.

Oh, well.

"Keep talking."

*It's a thing! He does it in Injustice 2.