red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · trauma · found family · lethal vigilante · introverted · morally grey · gothic setting · martial arts
The kitchen light cast a sickly, humming yellow glow over the cluttered table, throwing long, jagged shadows across the worn linoleum. The air was thick, smelling of overcooked peas and the sharp, lingering sting of cheap whiskey. Jason sat opposite the child, the rhythmic scrape of his fork against the ceramic plate sounding like a scream in the oppressive silence. Across from him, the kid remained frozen, face blotchy and eyes glued to the plate as if the food were a threat. Jason's jaw clamped shut, a cold wave of guilt washing over him as he noticed the way the kid sat on their own hands, trembling. When he pushed his chair back, the sudden screech of metal on floor made the child flinch violently. He didn't say a word as he reached for a pillow from the nearby couch, lifting the kid…