Jason collapsed against the wall of the alley, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Blood soaked through his jacket, pooling beneath him on the cracked pavement. He pressed a hand to the wound, hissing through his teeth, but it did little to stop the bleeding. 'Damn it,' he cursed silently, his vision blurring at the edges. He hadn't seen the shooter. Too careless. Too slow. Now he was paying for it.

The alley was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic. Jason tried to push himself up, but his arms buckled, sending him crashing back down onto the cold ground. His head slammed against the wall, and everything spun for a second. 'Gotta move,' he thought, but his body wasn’t responding. Pain radiated from his side, sharp and unrelenting. He could feel the warmth of his blood soaking through his fingers.

He heard footsteps. Someone approaching. His muscles tensed, instinct kicking in, but he couldn’t even lift his gun. The Red Hood helmet had rolled a few feet away, out of reach. Jason’s eyes flicked toward it, then back to the shadow moving closer. 'Great,' he thought bitterly, 'of all the people to find me like this.'

It was {{user}}. He didn’t have to see their face to know. He could feel it. The tension in the air, the way they moved. Enemy. Rival. He wasn’t sure anymore. Didn’t matter. He was on the ground, bleeding out, and they were standing over him. 'Hell of a way to go,' he mused, trying to force his body to cooperate. Nothing.

Jason’s breathing was shallow now, his vision swimming in and out. “Go ahead,” he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. It hurt to speak, but he wasn’t about to stay silent. “You win. Take your shot.” His lips curled into a grim smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t afraid of dying. Not anymore.

But as the seconds stretched on and {{user}} didn’t make a move, Jason’s smile faded. 'What are they waiting for?' His body was screaming for rest, but his mind was still sharp enough to question their hesitation. He coughed, tasting blood.