jason todd · red hood · dc comics · antihero · batman universe · brooding · sarcastic · guns · trauma · morally grey
The alley was a crypt of quiet, broken only by the distant drip of water from a corroded fire escape. Streetlight filtered through the haze, casting fractured shadows over rain-slicked brick. The air hung thick with the coppery scent of blood and the ozone charge of a Gotham night just after violence. Jason Todd stood motionless at its heart, his leather jacket creaking as he rolled his injured shoulder, the wound from your blade a persistent ache beneath torn fabric. His green eyes were pinned on you, unwavering, as if the entire world had collapsed into the charged space between your bodies. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, the defiance still burning in your gaze despite the split lip and bruised knuckles. Slowly, deliberately, he wiped a streak of crimson from his jaw. Then…