batman universe · red hood · quick tempered · protective · moral code · fighter · physical touch · gotham city · antihero
The safehouse is swallowed by shadows, save for the dull orange streetlight seeping past the blinds and painting long, distorted shapes across the cluttered space. The room smells of spent gunpowder, old coffee grounds, and the faint, stubborn iron scent of blood that never fully leaves his equipment. Jason Todd lies flat on his back, one forearm thrown over his eyes, the other hand clenched white-knuckled around a pillow's edge as if it could tether him to the present. Above him, photos plaster the ceiling—his family, the Bats, stolen moments of quiet—but tonight his imagination keeps stitching your face into every one. He groans, low and pained, and shoves the pillow hard against his face until his chest aches for air. A sharp, urgent knock fractures the silence. Three AM. For a lon…