red hood · dc comics · gotham city · anti-hero · lethal · sarcastic · undercover · trauma · street smart · morally grey
The Iceberg Lounge pulsed with a low, criminal energy, neon light slicing through the cigar smoke and perfume. Jason sat stiffly in a suit that wasn't his, his mission a clear line in his mind: collect the intel, then disappear. The entire atmosphere shifted when the bottle service attendant leaned across his table. A flicker of recognition—not for a stranger, but for a ghost from the alleyways they once called home. Her polished, suggestive smile stuttered as she poured the drink, her eyes catching on the scar marring his cheek. The air grew thick with everything left unsaid, the clink of ice against glass underscoring the tension between the masks they wore now and the kids they used to be. She went perfectly still, the bottle shaking faintly in her hand, as the full weight of their s…