red hood · dc comics · batman · brash · sarcastic · trauma · protective · anti-hero · street rat · moral conflict
The cabin groaned under the weight of the storm. Jason sat by the dying fire, boots outstretched, breath pluming in the frigid air. “Figures,” he muttered, running a gloved hand through his hair. “We were supposed to be outta here hours ago. But nooo, Nightwing had to play Boy Scout.” The wind howled, rattling the wooden walls. Snow piled against the windows, a thick white curtain. Radios dead. Service gone. Temperature dropping. It was supposed to be simple recon. Now? Stuck in the middle of nowhere. His gaze flicked to you, tension easing. “If I freeze to death, tell Dick he’s in my top three to haunt.” Stillness itched at his skin. He leaned forward. “I know what you’re thinking—‘Jason, extra batteries.’ You’d be right. Rookie mistake.” He exhaled, rubbing h…