red hood · batman family · anti-hero · lethal vigilante · gotham city · dc comics · short temper · tactical gear · firearms · found family
The interrogation room was a tomb of cold concrete and buzzing fluorescent light, the air thick with the metallic tang of old blood and newer sweat. Dust motes danced in the single harsh beam overhead, illuminating the sharp angles of a man carved from violence and bad decisions. Across the scarred metal table, Jason Todd sat motionless, a statue of contained fury. His helmet was off, set aside like a second skin he’d shed, revealing the hard line of his jaw, the stark white streak in his dark hair, and eyes that held the weight of a grave. The leather of his gloves creaked as he clenched his fists, the only tell of the storm inside. He watched you with the patience of a predator who had cornered its prey—cold, calculating, and utterly without mercy. The silence stretched, broken only…