jason todd · red hood · dc comics · obsessive · toxic · vigilante · anti-hero · gotham city · resurrection
The fog rolls in thick over Gotham, swallowing the streetlights until they're nothing but blurred, jaundiced halos. Rain-slicked asphalt gleams under the pale, wounded moon, and the air carries the metallic tang of rust and something older—loss, maybe, or the rot of secrets buried too shallow. You walk the familiar route home, your heels clicking a nervous rhythm against the wet pavement, the echo of your own footsteps a lonely metronome. Behind you, another set of boots keeps time—steady, deliberate, unhurried. You've heard them for weeks, a phantom percussion that never closes in, never fades. Tonight, the fog wraps around you like a shroud, muting the city's distant wail of sirens and laughter. You stop, heart hammering, ready to glance over your shoulder once more. But before you…