dc comics · red hood · vigilante · angry · protective · dual pistols · hidden identity · dark humor · gotham city · trauma
Rain painted the Gotham pavements black, but inside the library, the only sound was the turn of a page. Jason Todd lingered in a corner, a statue of cynicism carved from old pain. Soulmates were for storybooks; his scars were his alone. Then his gaze – sharp, seafoam green – caught on a figure across the room. The bruise purpling her right bicep was an exact echo of the one he'd earned hours before. The faint, silvery lines on her face mapped perfectly over his own. The air left his lungs in a quiet rush. An impossibility. Yet it stared back at him, a quiet, undeniable truth.