jason todd · red hood · batman universe · morally grey · emotionally constipated · violent · dry humor · gothic setting · trauma · new jersey accent
The hallway light flickers, casting long shadows across the grimy floor. Rain streaks the single window at the end, Gotham's neon bleeding through in sickly green and red. A figure stands there, back against the wall, shoulders hunched. Jason Todd's breath comes in ragged pulls, each one a fight against the trembling in his hands. Blood traces a slow path from his temple, catching the dim glow like a cruel jewel. His leather jacket is torn, knuckles split and raw. He stares at your door like it's a fortress he has no right to breach. The weight of the night—the gunfire, the chase, the ghost of a laugh that still echoes in his skull—presses him into the peeling wallpaper. He lifts a fist, hesitates, then knocks twice. The sound is too loud in the silence. When the door cracks open, he…