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**for redscales
Jun. 11th, 2020 01:09 pmRedscale.
What a fucking dumb name, Jason thought as he checked his holsters for the fourth time. Although he'd also admit that The Red Hood with a literal red helmet on his head had little room to talk about being a bit on the nose when picking an alter-ego. But hey, his name had a storied past, a fucking history behind it, not that anyone but Jason remembered. Anyway, that was beside the damn point that a name like Redscale was lame, and lamer still was how effortlessly the beast had fucked up Jason's month-long case on Liam Parsons, drug kingpin in the making but goddamn dumb enough to cross paths with a snake dude. The thing was, Liam was a worthless piece of shit, and Jason was glad he was dead, but he'd needed Liam for something much, much bigger, and now that end was loose again, and Christ he hated loose ends.
And nobody had ever accused Jason Todd of having a relaxed, easygoing personality or taking his time to think first, act second. His fuse was shorter than most, and when someone stepped on his turf, he tended to see red.
No pun intended.
Guns were locked and loaded, knives at the ready in case he could get close enough to swipe some scales off this asshole's fucking face (he wasn't actually sure if he had scales on his face or not, considering the video footage he'd pieced together from shitty surveillance cameras was pixelated at best). Bruce had always told him to bring backup even when he thought he didn't need it, but since when did Jason take anything Bruce said to heart? He'd do the opposite just out of spite.
So. Not his best plan to walk right into the snake pit (literally) with a gun out and at the ready, but fuck plans.
"Yo," he announced, his voice slightly altered behind the tech of the Red Hood's helmet and his entire body clad in leather and jeans, underneath of which was padding and bracers that put even more bulk on top of his muscles. He raised one gun and fired at the ceiling, loving the sound it made when it shattered wood and plaster came sprinkling down around him. "Red Hood here, looking for the big slimy thing that calls itself Redscale."
What a fucking dumb name, Jason thought as he checked his holsters for the fourth time. Although he'd also admit that The Red Hood with a literal red helmet on his head had little room to talk about being a bit on the nose when picking an alter-ego. But hey, his name had a storied past, a fucking history behind it, not that anyone but Jason remembered. Anyway, that was beside the damn point that a name like Redscale was lame, and lamer still was how effortlessly the beast had fucked up Jason's month-long case on Liam Parsons, drug kingpin in the making but goddamn dumb enough to cross paths with a snake dude. The thing was, Liam was a worthless piece of shit, and Jason was glad he was dead, but he'd needed Liam for something much, much bigger, and now that end was loose again, and Christ he hated loose ends.
And nobody had ever accused Jason Todd of having a relaxed, easygoing personality or taking his time to think first, act second. His fuse was shorter than most, and when someone stepped on his turf, he tended to see red.
No pun intended.
Guns were locked and loaded, knives at the ready in case he could get close enough to swipe some scales off this asshole's fucking face (he wasn't actually sure if he had scales on his face or not, considering the video footage he'd pieced together from shitty surveillance cameras was pixelated at best). Bruce had always told him to bring backup even when he thought he didn't need it, but since when did Jason take anything Bruce said to heart? He'd do the opposite just out of spite.
So. Not his best plan to walk right into the snake pit (literally) with a gun out and at the ready, but fuck plans.
"Yo," he announced, his voice slightly altered behind the tech of the Red Hood's helmet and his entire body clad in leather and jeans, underneath of which was padding and bracers that put even more bulk on top of his muscles. He raised one gun and fired at the ceiling, loving the sound it made when it shattered wood and plaster came sprinkling down around him. "Red Hood here, looking for the big slimy thing that calls itself Redscale."
