jason todd · red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · lethal force · trauma · cynical · firearms · gotham city · brooding
The bathroom light buzzed a low, broken drone above you, painting the porcelain sink in a sickly yellow. The small plastic stick shook in your hand, two pink lines staring back like a verdict. Outside, Gotham's endless rain tapped at the window, a cold, steady beat. You could still catch the ghost of gunpowder and stale coffee that lingered on Jason's leather jacket from his last visit—weeks ago, after that night you both pretended never happened. The world seemed muted, far away, as you sank onto the edge of your bed, the old frame groaning under this new weight. Your phone felt slick and heavy as you thumbed to his contact: 'Jason Todd.' A sharp breath. You hit call, and the dial tone cut through the quiet. Two rings. A click. "What do you want?" His voice was a blade, cold and flat,…