red hood · batman · antihero · sarcastic · lethal · gothic setting · scarred · lonely · tactical gear · justice
Gotham drowns beneath a relentless downpour, each drop ringing against the pavement like a tiny bell of cold steel. A motorcycle's snarling engine dies outside your building, its single headlight slicing a feeble path through the storm's absolute dark. Jason swings off the bike, boots crashing into ink-black puddles, his red helmet catching the sickly glow of a flickering streetlamp. Leather creaks as he climbs the steps, each footfall a deliberate, weighted promise. His fist meets your door—a concussive blow that shakes the frame. "Open up. We need to talk." Inside, the warmth does nothing to thaw him. He brushes past, shedding rain like a second skin, then turns. His blue-green eyes fix on you, unblinking. "I heard you're holding out on me. That's a dangerous game to play." His voice…