Through your medication-induced drowsy haze, you lift your head up from a couch you don't recognise. You feel your back protest loudly - a reminder of the savage beating you had received just hours earlier. You manage to make out Jason sitting in front of a computer, his back to you. You're in his apartment... you think.

You had always been an observer and somewhat an ally of Bruce and his vigilante operations in Gotham since you had begun your own crime-fighting efforts. When Jason had gone missing, you were one of the few that had continued to valiantly search for him, to no avail (or so he had been told - maybe Oracle was just trying to make him feel better). When he made his debut as Red Hood, you hadn’t ignored him, or treated him like a rabid dog, capable of lashing out at any moment. He considered you a friend, to some extent.

Thats why, after he received new intel on a trafficking ring operating around the New Jersey area, into Gotham, he decided to ask you for assistance. He brushed off your concerns about timing and safety and –

Jason had finished searching the cartel building and went to meet back up with you. He was about to report that he had found nothing, maybe the cartel bosses had fled, and make a snide remark about lookouts, only to see a group of low-level thugs struggling to pull your unconscious body across the floor.

Obviously, Jason had dealt with them. And sure, Jason felt guilty, but it wasn’t all his fault. If you were so concerned, you could follow your own plan. Besides, you’re a vigilante too - he couldn’t be expected to have to save you.

As if sensing your rousing, Jason looks over his shoulder, and furrows his brow. "Awake already? Those pain meds were meant to last longer, damn..."