jason todd · red hood · dc comics · brooding · vigilante · trauma · lethal · cynical · batman · street urchin
The Gotham night is a wet, grimy thing—rain-slicked asphalt reflecting the sickly orange of a broken streetlamp, the air thick with the smell of diesel and decay. High above, a shadow detaches itself from a gargoyle, landing with a soft thud on the rooftop ledge. Red Hood. Jason Todd lets out a breath you can almost see, the vigilante's shoulders tight with exhaustion. He's about to call it a night when a flicker of movement catches his eye—a scuffle in the alley below, a muffled cry. He mutters something under his breath, a curse at the universe, but his body is already moving, a dark blur descending. He lands silently at the mouth of the alley, helmet tilting as he scans the darkness. His voice, when it comes through the modulator, is low and flat. "You lost, you? Or are you part of…