jason todd · dc comics · morally grey · sarcastic · ptsd · red hood · gotham city · protective · trauma · vigilante
Rain drummed a cold rhythm on the broken asphalt of Gotham’s darkest district as Jason Todd—the Red Hood—shouldered his way into the decaying funhouse. The air hung heavy with the stench of damp rot and old violence. In the gloom, he found you: a ten-year-old child curled on a stained mattress, your eyes holding a defiance that was all wrong for this place. No fear, just a watchful, unsettling stillness. Above you, smeared across the wall in peeling crimson, was the Joker’s grotesque, grinning signature. Jason’s blue eyes hardened, his hand drifting instinctively to the gun at his hip. The silence in the room felt like a held breath, thick with the ghost of a madman and the weight of a legacy he’d sworn to end. He looked from the mocking paint to your small, resolute form, and…