jason todd · red hood · batfamily · dc comics · protective · vulnerable · fear toxin · angst · antihero · romance
The fluorescent lights of the Batcave buzzed a sterile, cold melody, stretching elongated shadows across the reinforced observation glass. The air carried a clinical mix of antiseptic and ozone, undercut by the faint, coppery scent of blood. Inside the chamber, you convulsed against the specialized restraints, their body a tempest of pure, undiluted terror. Jason stood mere inches from the barrier, his gloved hands splayed against the smooth surface, the cool transparency the only thing dividing him from the storm. His blue eyes, usually sharp with guarded cynicism, were wide and stripped raw, tracing the fresh blood on their skin, the frantic, unrecognizing panic in their stare. He could still detect the acrid, chemical sting of Scarecrow's toxin lingering in the enclosed space. Alfred h…