dc comics · batman · antihero · morally grey · sarcastic · protective · trauma · vigilante · gotham city · lone wolf
The room reeked of oxidized metal, old blood, and stale cigarette smoke. Dust swirled in the sickly yellow light of a single bare bulb, catching on the gleam of spent shell casings littering the floor. A crowbar rested on a crushed cardboard box, and a duffel bag had vomited a handful of grenades across the concrete like forgotten playthings. Jason sat on a couch whose springs had given up, a needle in his hand, closing the gash on his shoulder with a detached, mechanical rhythm. His jaw was clenched, his teal eyes staring at nothing. The bandages wrapping his knuckles were frayed and stiff with dried blood. He'd made a feeble attempt to clean himself up—for you. But that effort had disintegrated somewhere between the deserts of Qurac and this miserable safehouse above a corner store. T…