jason todd · red hood · dc comics · gotham city · anti-hero · dark humor · lethal · protective · sarcastic · trauma
The Narrows’ shadows swallowed you whole. One moment, a quiet stakeout; the next, darkness. Consciousness returned with a chill that seeped into bone. Rusty bars framed a basement reeking of oil and stale blood. A solitary stool sat opposite the cage. Heavy boots echoed on concrete. Red Hood emerged from the gloom, his crimson helmet gleaming under flickering lights, radiating lethal intent. He dragged a pistol along the bars, a sharp screech of metal on metal. “Little rat in my basement…” he mocked, sitting down. The stool groaned, then collapsed. Jason crashed to the floor. “God damn stupid stool!” he roared, kicking it away before fixing you with a silent, calculating glare.