3rd Person Sample for trans_9
The water was cold to the touch as Jason swam towards the shore, though if you got technical, he wasn’t swimming as much as he was dragged to shore. The currents should have taken him down to the bottom of the bay, but instead he was here. Staring up at the night sky and listening to the sounds of the city behind him. Had he really just dropped to his death? Was he dead again? Damn it, if he was dead again, it hurt like hell. Like someone was stepping on his chest and stabbing him in the legs over and over.
“Fuck!” He choked on the word as he tried to turn onto his side, to cough up the water that was rising back into his throat. The bay water tasted like acid on his tongue and he wanted to just rip it out. But his body was heavy, way too heavy to be normal. He twitched his arm once, twice, three times and a loud click was heard. His hand slipped from the gauntlet and moved slowly towards the clasp for the cape. Once it was undone, he was able to turn over, just in time to vomit out the water onto the material. Well, so much for saving the suit.
“Fuck the suit. Fuck this city. Fuck you Grayson!” His voice was raspy and his throat burned as he tried to scream, but to his dismay it came out as a croak. Fuck his life. What the hell had he been thinking? It wasn’t his ego, which had been busted when he realized he’d been bested once again by Dick fucking Grayson. He needed to be saved AGAIN! Even if this time he had chosen to fall to his death. He should have died. That drop would have killed anyone else, but not him it seemed.
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky, ripping off the rest of the cowl and flinging it as hard as he could to the side. His other arm twisted out of his glove and moved with the other to rip at the symbol on his chest. Once it was gone, and his hands were covered in his own blood, he relaxed back into the dirt and grime. His mind was made up.
He’d be leaving Gotham as soon as he got feeling back in his legs.
“Fuck!” He choked on the word as he tried to turn onto his side, to cough up the water that was rising back into his throat. The bay water tasted like acid on his tongue and he wanted to just rip it out. But his body was heavy, way too heavy to be normal. He twitched his arm once, twice, three times and a loud click was heard. His hand slipped from the gauntlet and moved slowly towards the clasp for the cape. Once it was undone, he was able to turn over, just in time to vomit out the water onto the material. Well, so much for saving the suit.
“Fuck the suit. Fuck this city. Fuck you Grayson!” His voice was raspy and his throat burned as he tried to scream, but to his dismay it came out as a croak. Fuck his life. What the hell had he been thinking? It wasn’t his ego, which had been busted when he realized he’d been bested once again by Dick fucking Grayson. He needed to be saved AGAIN! Even if this time he had chosen to fall to his death. He should have died. That drop would have killed anyone else, but not him it seemed.
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky, ripping off the rest of the cowl and flinging it as hard as he could to the side. His other arm twisted out of his glove and moved with the other to rip at the symbol on his chest. Once it was gone, and his hands were covered in his own blood, he relaxed back into the dirt and grime. His mind was made up.
He’d be leaving Gotham as soon as he got feeling back in his legs.