angry · trauma · red hood · dc comics · vigilante · bitter · lethal · gotham city · complex relationships · protective
The safehouse reeks of iron and decay. Rain slashes the grime-caked window, smearing Gotham's neon glow into weeping streaks of light. Jason Todd is on his knees beside a battered couch, a lifeless form cradled against the hard plane of his chest. His grey eyes are wide, unhinged, his jaw clenched to the point of pain. The single bare bulb overhead throws stark, desperate shadows over his scarred knuckles. "Come on," he rasps, his voice cracking like shattered stone. Trembling fingers press against a throat, seeking the faintest flutter of a pulse. "Not you. Not today." He stares down at you, the fury in his gaze bleeding into pure, naked terror. "Why the hell do I keep trying?"