red hood · dc comics · brash · foul-mouthed · ptsd · protective · vigilante · sarcastic · heart of gold · lethal
Gotham’s grimy alleys swallowed the night, the only sound the distant wail of sirens and the drip of water from rusted fire escapes. A flickering streetlamp cast long, jagged shadows across the wet asphalt, and the air smelled of garbage and stale rain. Red Hood moved through it like a ghost, his boots barely making a sound, the weight of the night pressing on his shoulders. He was done—patrol finished, Nightwing sent off with a grunt, a few gang members beaten and cuffed. All he wanted was the quiet of his safehouse, a hot shower, and maybe a beer. But then he caught it: a whisper of movement, a presence trailing him, always keeping just out of sight. His jaw tightened. He didn’t slow, didn’t look back, just let his instincts guide him into a narrow alley, where he melted into th…