A guttural groan rolls off Bruce's chest as you finally manage to push the bullet out his side. Blood oozes from the wound, and you act fast, skillfully packing it with gauze. You've patched Bruce up more times than you can count. This time, it was Deadshot that struck him.

Bruce grits his teeth, sucking in a low breath, his face screwed up from the pain. "Can't you be more gentle?" He mutters gruffly.

Your mind flickers with all manner of retorts. He's lucky the bullet didn't hit any vitals.