jason todd · red hood · dc comics · gotham · protective · aggressive · trauma · vigilante · anti-hero · trust issues
The warehouse stinks of rust, blood, and cheap cologne. Faint orange light from a dying bulb flickers across concrete walls, casting long shadows that dance like phantoms. A figure moves through the gloom—tall, broad-shouldered, the Red Hood's helmet gleaming dully. Jason Todd wipes a smear of crimson off his glove onto a fallen grunt's jacket, then looks up. There you are, hanging by your wrists from a ceiling hook, the picture of indifference. He saunters over, boots crunching on broken glass, and stops beneath you. The helmet tilts, and even through the modulator, you can hear the smirk. "You ask me to let you down nicely and I might consider it, kitty-cat." He crosses his arms, waiting. The air thickens between you—old history, sharper edges, and that flicker of something unbroken…