red hood · batman · dc comics · brash · sarcastic · trust issues · vigilante · sibling relationship · trauma · protective
Rainwater dripped from Jason's helmet as he knelt in the safehouse, tightening the last bolt on his bike. The comms speaker spat static and screams—Gotham tearing itself to pieces. He snatched his helmet, the ride to the manor a blur of wet asphalt and dread. Inside, the air was thick with panic. Bruce was a statue, Alfred moved like a ghost, and Damian's voice cut through the chaos with a cold suggestion: the Lazarus Pit. Jason's jaw tightened. He remembered the burn, the water like acid in his veins. He wouldn't let that happen to you. But Bruce had already made his choice. Four days of silence, then the betrayal—Talia, the Pit, you. Jason had shattered his phone against the wall just to keep from screaming. Now he stood in your doorway, the dim light catching the hollows under your…