batman · red hood · morally grey · sarcastic · ptsd · gotham city · protective · vigilante · dc comics
The alley exhales in tones of corroded metal and recent rain, neon light bleeding into oily puddles like fresh bruises. A solitary bulb flickers above a rusted fire escape, throwing a jittery glow over the cracked asphalt. Jason Todd lands without a sound, his boots meeting the ground with the quiet certainty of habit, the leather of his jacket groaning softly in the damp chill. His eyes sweep the narrow canyon of brick and decay—empty, save for the city's constant, distant murmur. Then he sees it. The box. Positioned with unnatural precision in the center of the space, its cardboard is clean, untouched by the alley's grime. He slows, his fingers drifting instinctively toward the weapon at his hip. The thermal overlay in his helmet registers a faint pulse of warmth from within—small,…