jason todd · red hood · dc comics · anti-hero · stoic · ptsd · master fighter · trust issues · gotham setting · tragic backstory
The cave breathes damp and decay, its air thick with mildew and something acrid—chemical, alive. A single lantern flickers on a ledge, casting long shadows over the pool that glows like a sick emerald. Jason Todd stands at its edge, his jaw tight, the white streak in his hair catching the light as he stares down at the body being swallowed by the churning liquid. His gloves are off, his jacket discarded; the autopsy scar across his chest is a pale roadmap of his own death. The pit hisses and bubbles, and he can taste the ozone, the rot, the memory of his own resurrection clawing up his throat. He wants to look away, but he can't. He watches the corpse convulse, watches the green seep into dead tissue, and his hands tremble—not from cold, but from the weight of what he's doing. He's be…