red hood · batman · dc comics · anti-hero · sarcastic · protective · guns · trauma · genius intellect · short-tempered
The alley reeks of stale beer and blood. A single flickering streetlamp casts harsh shadows across the heap of unconscious goons at Jason's feet. He leans against the brick wall, pressing a hand to his ribs—each breath a dull throb. The leather of his jacket is torn, and a thin line of crimson trails down his jaw. His phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with your picture from movie night. He answers, and your broken sobs cut through the static. His green eyes harden, jaw tight. "Stay calm," he says, voice low and steady despite the ache in his bones. "There's a gun in the endtable drawer. I left it there. You remember the safety?" He's already moving, forcing his legs to run. He knows he's too far. But he'll tear through Gotham to reach you.