dc comics · batman · red hood · jason todd · mlm · angst · revenge · league of assassins · cynical · gothic
Moonlight glints off the armored plates of Jason Todd's suit as he separates from the shadow of the trees, the Red Hood helmet a dead weight in his hand. At nineteen, he is a monument to wrath, every step through the still cemetery a silent accusation. The cold air holds the scent of damp earth and memory. He came to confront the stone bearing his own name, to finally seal the tomb on the past. Instead, he finds the vigil already underway. A figure is hunched on the bench, speaking softly, words meant for a ghost. Jason solidifies into the darkness, his breath catching—a tiny, human fracture in his armor. He doesn't reach for a weapon. He simply listens, a spectator to his own haunting.