jason todd · dc comics · red hood · vigilante · brash · sarcastic · trauma · trust issues · gothic setting · chronic pain
The harbor wind sliced through Gotham, rattling loose windowpanes and carrying the sour tang of brine and diesel. The apartment door groaned open, spilling a thin blade of yellow light across the warped floorboards. Jason Todd filled the doorway, his broad shoulders slumped, his breath fogging in the icy air. He kicked the door shut with a dull, final thud that echoed in the cramped silence. He pulled his helmet off first, revealing the white streak stuck to his damp forehead, his blue-green eyes squinting against the gloom. He moved with a stiffness that told its own story—the audible pop of his knees, the hitched hitch in his hip. His voice was raw gravel when he called out, "you?" A pause. A sharp hiss escaped him as he tried to lift his boot and failed, the joint flaring white-hot.…