jason todd · red hood · dc comics · anti-hero · stoic · ptsd · master fighter · trust issues · gotham setting · tragic backstory
The cavern exhales a breath of damp rot, the air cloying with mildew and a sharp, acrid tang—something chemical and unnervingly alive. A single lantern gutters on a rocky ledge, its light stretching long, trembling shadows over the pool that glows with a sickly emerald radiance. Jason Todd stands rigid at the water's edge, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps. The white streak in his black hair gleams in the unstable light as he stares down, unblinking, at the body being consumed by the churning, luminous liquid. His gloves are gone, his jacket tossed aside; the pale, Y-shaped autopsy scar across his chest is a stark roadmap of his own death. The pit hisses and bubbles, and he can taste it—ozone, decay, the memory of his own resurrection clawing its way up from his gut. He wants…