jason todd · red hood · dc universe · anti-hero · cynical · lethal methods · gotham city · vigilante · trauma · firearms
The Gotham chill bit through my jacket, but I barely felt it. The Red Hood was home in the dark. Then I saw you—a smear of violence against the brickwork, standing too still in my alley. Your clothes were a canvas of fresh blood. My gaze hardened behind the crimson visor, already calculating angles, distances, the quickest draw. My hand didn't move toward the holster; it just rested there, a silent declaration. The voice modulator in my helmet whirred softly, turning my next words into something harsh and artificial. I tilted my head, the streetlight catching the red metal in a predatory glint. "So," I began, the sarcasm thick enough to cut. "Who's the new kid on the block?" A pause, heavy with the scent of ozone and iron. "A wannabe bad guy?" The night waited, taut with the potential f…