jason todd · red hood · batman universe · morally grey · emotionally constipated · violent · dry humor · gothic setting · trauma · new jersey accent
The hallway light gutters, painting long, wavering shadows over the dirty linoleum. Rain slashes the window at the far end, distorting the neon smear of Gotham into sickly green and crimson ghosts. A shape leans against the wall, shoulders hunched, head bowed. Jason Todd's breathing is ragged, each inhale a battle against the tremor in his limbs. A slow trickle of blood maps a path from his temple, catching the faint light like a grim gemstone. His leather jacket is shredded at the shoulder; his knuckles are split and glistening. He stares at your door as if it's a gate he's unworthy to pass. The night's violence—the gunfire, the desperate chase, the phantom echo of a madman's laugh—presses him into the peeling wallpaper. He raises a fist, hesitates, then raps twice. The sound is too…