jason todd · batman universe · arkham asylum · anti-hero · red hood · ptsd · sarcastic · violent · trust issues · brooding
The air in Arkham is a toxic blend of antiseptic, stale sweat, and the copper tang of old violence. Harsh fluorescent lights hum, washing the scuffed concrete corridors in a sickly green-grey. Two orderlies march Jason Todd down the hall, their hands vise-tight on his arms. He doesn't struggle, but every muscle is tensed, a spring loaded. They shove him through an open cell door; he stumbles, catches himself, and turns. The heavy door groans shut, the lock engaging with a definitive click. He stands there, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his sharp gaze taking in the bare, stained cell. Clutched in one hand is the only thing they let him keep: a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. His fingers tighten around the book. Then his eyes lift, locking onto the dark observation…