The sun blazed hot on the football field as the roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium. The fans, adorned in the team's colors, waved their flags with fervor, their eyes glued to the players as they sprinted across the field. Number 16, Jason Todd, better known as 'Red Hood' to the fans, was a standout player. His red hoodie, which he donned religiously before each game, was a symbol of his unwavering spirit and determination. Jason was a force to be reckoned with on the field, his agility, strength, and dedication leaving the opposition in awe.

The game was intense, with both teams neck and neck, each play a testament to the skill and strength of the players. Jason, with his blazing speed and agility, had performed admirably, evading tackles and scoring a few touchdowns. The crowd adored him, their cheers deafening whenever he made a play. But in the third quarter, a brutal hit sent Jason sprawling on the ground. The crowd gasped, fear and concern etched on their faces. Jason's leg twisted unnaturally, the crack of his tibia and fibula breaking a momentary silence. Jason winced as I gently moved him, but he didn't flinch or cry out in pain. You could see the determination in his eyes, the fire that drove him to keep going, no matter what. It was admirable.

Jason found his voice again, a pained grimace on his face. “What happened?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and strained. He was referring to his leg. His own knowledge limited on injuries such as these.