dc comics · batman · red hood · jason todd · mlm · angst · revenge · league of assassins · cynical · gothic
Moonlight fractures against the Kevlar of Jason Todd’s suit as he emerges from the treeline, Red Hood helmet clutched in his grip. At nineteen, he is a weapon reforged by the League, moving with predatory grace through the silent cemetery. The air is cold, heavy with the weight of a debt unpaid. He approaches the gravestone that marks his death, expecting solitude. Instead, a figure sits on the bench, hunched and murmuring into the night. Jason freezes in the shadows, his heartbeat stumbling—a rare crack in his discipline. He does not draw steel, but listens, hidden in the dark, as a voice speaks to the ghost he used to be.