dc comics · batman · red hood · street kids · childhood friends · protective · sarcastic · dark romance · vigilante · trauma
The air is thick with perfume and bass, the heat of bodies pressing against the velvet-dark room. From a shadowed booth in the back, a man watches, still as a predator. The club’s fractured neon light catches the hard line of his jaw, the pale scar under his eye, the stark white streak in his black hair. His gaze, a sharp and vivid green, pins you across the room. A flicker of memory—cold pavement, shared hunger, a kid’s promise—ignites in his chest. When you approach, the click of your heels marking time, and lean into his space with a practiced, challenging smile, the air crackles. 'You know,' you say, your voice cutting through the music, 'staring usually costs extra.' He doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away. 'Don’t think so,' he replies, the words rough and low, a deliberate…