BATBOYS ONE-SHOTS

Jason ~ Paint It Red

Part I of II

I won't say much about my recent break, just that funerals suck, I'm overworked and underpaid, and I appreciate the few of you wonderful stars who DM-ed me and asked if I was alright. I appreciate all of you and your concern. 

Inspired by a time I was staring at my gorgeously sleep-deprived, puffy-eyed face in the bathroom mirror at four-thirty in the morning. I was also wearing a red sweatshirt. Go figure. 

(P/N) - Professor's Name 

Rated: R (violence, gore, language); shit gets disgustingly fluffy, too

Dopamine ~ Maggie Lindemann & Siiickbrain 

* * * 

Jason hated getting his feet wet, even more than the pungent irony aroma filling his nose. 

Scoffing, Jason turned and knocked his boots against the building behind him. Drops of red rolled off his muddy soles and splattered across the bricks, but the liquid had already seeped well into his socks. At least socks were easy to dispose of; the sheen of blood across the cement struggled to filter into the gutter, even with help from the night's downpour. 

Sweat trickled down his temples beneath his helmet. He yearned to wipe it off, maybe take a moment to let the raindrops fall across his skin and wash it away. Despite his mask underneath acting as a second layer of protection, it was too great a risk. Tonight's target hadn't come alone, and it wouldn't be long before reinforcements showed up. All Jason had left to do was clean up his mess, and then he could go home to a long-awaited shower and the six-pack sitting in his empty fridge. If he tried hard enough, he could already imagine the stout beverage sliding down his throat. 

A groan emanated from the broken man lying on the sidewalk in front of him. It was time to go.  

Muffled shouting echoed off the alley walls, carrying voices from a few streets away. They were closing in. Jason reached down and grabbed the man by the shoulders, who released a frail wheeze as every bone in his body screamed under duress. His pain was ignored, and the heels of his loafers scraped against the cracked stone as Jason dragged him further into the shadows. The latter's eyes frantically scanned his surroundings before landing on an object looming in the darkness to his left. A rickety trash compactor sat against the far wall, rust-eaten and abandoned by the restaurant to which it once belonged. Operational or not, it would prove an adequate hiding spot. 

The door creaked as Jason forced it open, disregarding the nauseating smell of rotten produce and stale liquor. The voices grew louder, now just down the block. While the injured man wasn't much larger than Jason, he still found lifting the dead weight a difficult task, and getting the man high enough to fall into the machine was laborious. With a strained growl, he grabbed hold of the man's filthy soles and gave one final shove to hoist him over the edge of the chute. Glass shattered and cardboard squished as the body sank into the preexisting pile of garbage. Jason quickly threw the door shut and engaged the lock, and as he prepared to make a hasty exit, a faint glowing light caught his attention. 

The light in question was hidden beneath a layer of grime, yet bright enough to pierce the darkness. It was partially concealed between a discolored button and the shredded remnants of what used to be a utility warning label. Fueled by pure curiosity, Jason shot a glance at the alley's mouth before driving the butt of his fist into the crooked button. He wasn't expecting the machine to come to life so easily and winced as the gears began grinding and moaning in opposition. The compactor trembled violently as its cylinders started compiling the garbage inside together, and Jason took a step back when a stiff whine erupted above the noise.