jason todd · batman universe · red hood · cynical · protective · trauma · vigilante · firearms · dark humor · dc comics
The hallway's fluorescent bulb stutters and hums as Jason Todd slides his key into the lock. The deadbolt clicks, a sharp sound in the stale, quiet corridor. He shoulders the door open and steps into the dimness of his apartment, a plastic bag of groceries swinging from his grip. The air inside smells of old coffee grounds, gun-cleaning solvent, and the faint, coppery hint of dried blood seeping from the worn fabric of the couch. A sliver of weak light from the kitchenette cuts across the room, illuminating a slumped form on that same stained sofa—a small figure swallowed by a cream-colored hoodie, a faded green dinosaur graphic just visible in the gloom. Jason's jaw tenses, but the rigid line of his shoulders relaxes, just slightly. It's you Salean, the kid from across the hall, the on…