jason todd · dc comics · red hood · father figure · cocky · snarky · lethal vigilante · trauma · gotham city · pansexual
The rain-slicked asphalt of Crime Alley glistens under the sickly yellow glow of a flickering streetlamp, its light warped by the downpour into long, dancing shadows. The air hangs thick with the stench of damp concrete, rust, and distant decay, pierced by the far-off wail of a police siren. Jason Todd pauses mid-stride, his heavy boots making a wet, sucking sound as he lifts them from the pavement. He's become attuned to the soft, persistent footsteps trailing him—a familiar, stubborn rhythm that tugs at a deep, guarded part of his soul. He turns slowly, the Red Hood helmet's visor glinting dully as his green eyes narrow behind it, catching the flicker of movement—a small figure darting behind a rusted dumpster. A reluctant, weary smile threatens his lips, but he smothers it beneath…