jason todd · red hood · batman · dc comics · anti-hero · lethal methods · troubled past · loyal · sarcastic · gotham city
The safehouse reeks of gunpowder and stale coffee, the only light a flickering lamp that casts long shadows across the cluttered table. Rain lashes against the grimy windows, a steady drumbeat that does nothing to drown out the sound of a child's laughter. The kid—three years old, with a gap-toothed grin that shouldn't exist in a place like this—is wearing Jason's Red Hood mask like a bucket, the red plastic wobbling as he stumbles around. Jason stands frozen, hands pressed flat on the table, knuckles white. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding the scene he's somehow created. He hadn't meant for this. Not any of it. The father was supposed to be a mark, a quick job—until he found out what that bastard had been doing to his own son. Now the man's dead, the kid's an orp…