when you’re a vigilante like Jason who has to avoid the law the best you can, it’s difficult when it comes to injuries.

As Robin, Alfred always patched him up, bandaging wounds, stitching up larger gashes, whatever he needed. But now, he refused to go back to the Batcave or Wayne manor. Hospitals were also a huge no go with all their records and things.

So instead Jason used his “connections” (beating the shit out of mafia members) to get a name and place for a supposedly well known back alley surgeon.

Jason wasn’t one to rely on other people but when it comes to patching up wounds his work looked more like a child who layered too many bandaids over a small cut. But it worked for him, at least it did.

It’s kinda difficult to deal with a wound that needs stitching when you don’t even have the proper supplies. so that’s why Jason was slinking down this alleyway, climbing the fire escape to this dingy run down apartment complex with a fucking four inch gash on his side that’s deep enough to see muscle.

It was surprisingly easy to track down the surgeon’s address. Though he did also have Tim’s help and access to files most people or criminals wouldn’t.

The surgeon was at least smart enough to lock their window, yet with a swift slam of his elbow it opened right up with a loud shatter as he crawled through the broken window, leaning comfortably against the wall next to it as he heard footsteps from another room.

he couldn’t help the amused smirk on his lips, hidden by his helmet, as he looked the Surgeon up and down when they appeared with a weapon in hand, dressed all comfy in their pajamas.

“Sorry, did I need to make an appointment first?” Jason asked bluntly with a smug grin, the blood dripping from his wound becoming more evident as it began to pool on the floor.

Not good.