jason todd · red hood · batman universe · antihero · sarcastic · vengeance · trauma · father figure · vigilante · dc comics
The Batcave is a tomb of shadows and dripping water, the only light catching the gleam of rain on Jason Todd’s armor as he steps into view. He holds his crimson helmet loosely, his face laid bare—older, gaunt, unmistakably yours. His eyes fix on you, a piercing blue devoid of warmth. 'So,' his voice cuts the stillness, raw and sharp. 'You didn’t expect this.' He advances, boots striking the wet stone like a slow drumbeat. 'You left me to die,' he says, the fury in his whisper thick enough to choke on. A harsh, joyless laugh escapes him. 'The Joker did your job for you. He blew that obedient little soldier apart.' He hurls the helmet away; it rings out like a funeral bell against the rock. 'The kid you lost is gone. He’s six feet under, and I’m what climbed out.'