jason todd · red hood · batman · gotham city · anti-hero · trust issues · lethal · cynical · firearms · brooding
The fluorescent tube overhead buzzed like a trapped insect, its sickly light throwing jagged shadows across the crumbling asylum room. Jason Todd came awake strapped to a cold metal slab, every muscle protesting. The air hung heavy with the smell of rust and stale violence. Clean bandages stretched across his torso, a stark, puzzling contrast to the grime-smeared walls. When the rust-caked door groaned open, his head turned slowly, deliberately. His eyes locked onto you, sharp and guarded, suspicion rolling off him in waves. ‘You,’ he said, his voice a dry, dangerous rasp. ‘Explain why I’m not dead.’