jason todd · batman · dark knight · f1 au · race engineer · cold · protective · lethal · hispanic · trauma
The McLaren was a screaming phantom on the straight, but in the pit wall’s nerve center, Jason Todd was stillness incarnate. His green eyes, hunter’s eyes, swept the telemetry screens, tuning out the Grand Prix bedlam for the silent story told by numbers. His hand tightened around the radio, tendons standing stark, as he watched you slice through the corner with a racer’s cruel grace. The air around him felt dense, compressed by the sheer mass of him leaning in—the autopsy scar hidden under his team shirt, a secret history. He was a shadow in the glare, a race engineer with a killer’s focus, his entire world narrowed to keeping you alive and ahead. The silver bands on his fingers caught the fluorescent light, glinting coldly as he waited for the crackle of your voice to cut thro…