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??? | In a police car | 7 pm; Sun. 17. Sept.
It was cloudy. Of course it was cloudy it's Gotham. He was lucky it wasn't raining...
Of course he had to test his luck.
A heavy down pour announces itself from the thick, dark clouds over the city and it begins to hit down on the car roof, the older man hopes that crime will be on a minimum this night, he can hope but hope isn't much in a city like Gotham.
Just half a hour and then you can go home Jim. These are his thoughts not mine, I am just a meeky little Storyteller.
Anyhow the poor guy doesn't have that luck today.
The ringing of his car radio jerks him out of his thoughts, his eyes find the right button and like possessed he clicks in it and he picks up the communication device.
'Yes, Commissioner Gordon speaking.'
The radio replies with static for a moment before someone begins to speak again.
'Hey Commish, this is 1/A/19 we need a Code 3 be of a possible DB.'*
—•—
J. Grace | ??? | ???
It hurts. Why does my chest hurt?
It's cold.
Why do I feel so fuzzy and tingly?
Where am I?
The Demigod falls into unconsciousness.
The next time he wakes up he hears the steady beat of a heart monitor and feels the pressure of bandages around his torso.
There is a silent bustling of people and he also hears soft breathing from beside him. When he opens his eyes meet a off-white ceiling.
Jason tries to sit up pushing his back against the hard hospital bed his sight gets blurry.
"Fuck." He breaths out as a hand flies to his head to steady it against the incoming headache.
A glass of water lands magically in his hand. Or does it?
He follows long nimble fingers to a hand, all littered with small nicks and scars, oh how many scars there are...
Then there appears a mint green clad arm and up to a face with red slightly curly, rather long hair surrounding it, their–
her face is a little bit blurry, everything seems to be actually.
He sceptically picks the cup from her hand and firstly sniffs it before taking a sip, then he decides it is okay to drink and chuggs it down.
"Are you okay or should I call a nurse?" The young woman asks
He places the empty cup down on the bedside table.
"I'm good." He calculatingly glances at the young woman and tries to estimate his chances at escape with his injurys.
He might have a chance, when and if he can distract her long enough to even try.
—•—
Some time later, the young woman, he still hasn't gotten a name, is in a heated argument with some dick, apparently.
Back to the topic, now is his chance to escape. He waits for the perfect moment, over the span of a few long minutes he slowly moves to the side of the bed and places his bare feet on the cold, tiled floor.
The woman hasn't even noticed, although, if he is right with his observation, she would have noticed him getting up by now, not that it matters pfft... Yeah no it matters quite well.
Lady Peppermint, as he has dubbed the woman for now — because of the mint coloured sweater her hair and skin colour...
You know what? Forget it.
So... As we were writing, Lady Peppermint is still standing at the window phone in hand and talking to someone so far so good.
He slowly pushes himself up and off the mattress to look around for his belongings, he had to have something on his person when he died...
The following is what he finds while sneaking around Lady Peppermints back, absolutely nothing.
With nothing in hand or on his feet he hurrys to the door and is down the hallway in a few moments, it is then that the woman probably realizes that he is gone and he hears her calling for a nurse or a doctor, but he doesn't care.
He looks over his shoulder while pulling open the door to the stair case when no one notices him he slips through the door and runs down the stairs while takes ng three steps at a time, be even trips once and almost stumbles down a flight of stairs.
Despite everything Jason stops in the main lobby where he looks around once and is out of the hospital before anyone notices him standing there.
Freedom. He takes in a deep breath and promptly begins to cough,a grimace forms on his face.
The air is not what he is used too, an almost vile smell fills his lungs, a mix out of stuff he doesn't want to begin thinking about.
He shakes himself out of his stupor and looks around him, big skyscrapers tower over him, almost like a cage, he can't breath,
Where is the sky? His eyes hush around searching the clouds for the all familiar blue.
The scar on his chest hurts, the skin tries to stretch further than it actually can, he flinches and then looks around to a way to the roofs.
There! A fireescape on the side of a basic –Well basic for this city– run down scrubby apartment building.
He hurrys over to the end and jumps up to grab the side of the rail to pull himself up and onto the stairs.
Over looking the city gives him some kind of peace, as if he was seeing everything from a birds eye, peaceful and without a care in the world.
But what now?