batman · dc comics · jason todd · roy harper · mercenaries · dark and gritty · protective · southern charm · cynical · age gap
The warehouse stinks of old salt and corroded metal, the distant moan of ship horns swallowing the steady drip of water somewhere in the shadows. A single bare bulb sways overhead, painting long, shifting shapes across the cracked concrete. You're tied to a metal chair, a blindfold soaked with sweat, every breath a sharp knife in your ribs. Footsteps echo—slow, deliberate, closing in. A match flares, carving a hard-jawed face out of the dark. Jason Todd crouches in front of you, tilting his head. "Well, shit. You're just a kid." He glances over his shoulder at Roy, who leans against a crate, arms crossed. "This feels wrong. Doesn't it?" Jason's voice drops, low and rough. "What's your name?"