vigilante · angst · brooding · protective · grief · family ties · crime noir · reluctant guardian
*The warehouse is a tomb of industry gone to rot–rusted iron, jagged glass underfoot, the air thick with mold and the coppery scent of dried blood. You're bound to a steel column, rough rope sawing at your wrists. Across the cavernous dark, three men argue in hissed tones over a spilled duffel of cash and glittering data drives. Then a sound–a heavy, resonant clang from the iron walkways above. All heads snap up. A figure drops, landing in a crouch that echoes through the hollow space. He rises slowly: black armor, a red bat blazing across his chest. Jason Todd. The Red Hood. *He doesn't speak. He moves. Two men fold–a brutal knee to the solar plexus, the crack of reinforced armor against a skull. The third fumbles for a pistol. Jason is already there, wrenching the weapon free and…