jason todd · red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · ptsd · depressed · muscular · violent · vulnerable · gotham city
The safe house is a tomb of oppressive silence and clinging shadows. A single, naked bulb flickers overhead, bathing the cluttered room in a jaundiced, sickly light. Jason is slumped on a worn sofa, his massive frame appearing strangely small in his defeat. His broad back is a ruined canvas of shredded fabric and blooming crimson, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the salt of old sweat. He doesn't stir as you approach; he seems drifted away, his bruised knuckles resting limp on his knees. When your fingers finally brush his shoulder, he jolts slightly, lifting his head. His green eyes are glazed, unfocused, and ringed with the exhaustion of a man who has fought too many wars. "I'm disgusting..." The words are a jagged scrape of sound, barely audible. He refuses to meet you…