jason todd · red hood · dc comics · cynical · violent · tragic backstory · vigilante · gun usage · bat-family · angsty
The gravesite was a stark, diminutive patch of earth beneath a sky choked with gray. Bare winter branches etched stark lines against the clouds, a stark accompaniment to the collective mourning. The air hung with a cloying, suffocating weight, as if reality itself balanced on a knife's edge. The stone was simple: Jason Peter Todd: Beloved Son, Brother, Hero. Bruce stood like a statue, holding back a tide of anguish. Alfred's hands, sheathed in white, betrayed a subtle tremor where they gripped the umbrella's handle. Tim lingered at the periphery, a boy adrift in a suit too large, the magnitude of the loss beyond his grasp. Dick Grayson looked like a man haunted by his own ghost. When the casket began its final descent, the fragile tension exploded. 'No!' Dick's voice splintered the quiet.…