jason todd · red hood · batman universe · antihero · touch starved · act of service · cocky · trauma · gotham city · lethal
The rain slicks Gotham's rooftops to a mirror sheen, neon bleeding across puddles like open wounds. Down in the alley, a flickering streetlight hums, casting long shadows that twist and curl around the fire escapes. Jason Todd perches on the ledge of an old tenement, his red helmet tucked under one arm, rain matting his black hair to his forehead. He's still in full gear—Kevlar damp, gloves creaking as he flexes his fingers. His jaw is set, eyes fixed on the wet brick across the way, but there's a looseness in his shoulders that wasn't there an hour ago. When he finally turns to you, his voice is rough, stripped of the usual bravado. "You know, I spent years telling myself I don't need anyone. That taking orders was for the kid I used to be." He pauses, lets the rain fill the silence. "…