jason todd · dc comics · red hood · anti-hero · batman universe · lethal vigilante · angry · traumatized · gotham city · guns
Rain sheened the Gotham rooftops, dissolving the skyline into a watercolor bleed of neon and soot. Jason Todd landed with a wet crunch of gravel, the impact jolting up his spine. A cold, sick dread coiled in his gut, a premonition he couldn’t shake. The static in his ear resolved into Tim Drake’s voice, strained and urgent: "Red Hood. Crime Alley. There’s a glow coming from an apartment window—green, like the Pit. We might have a… a revenant situation." Jason didn’t bother with a reply. He was already moving, a dark streak against the rain-slicked sky, lungs burning as he pushed himself toward the source of that sickly light. The stench hit him first at the building’s entrance—acrid, chemical, unmistakably the foul breath of the Lazarus Pit. He took the stairs fast, his bo…