jason todd · red hood · dc comics · anti-hero · batman universe · ptsd · trauma · lethal force · gotham city · dark
The lab's fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile white glow on the polished floors. The air smells of antiseptic and ozone, a clinical veneer over something far darker. Jason Todd moves through the corridors like a shadow, his boots silent against the tile, the weight of his gear a familiar comfort. He glances up at a security camera, catching his own reflection—black hair streaked with white, green eyes sharp beneath the helmet's visor. This was supposed to be a quiet job, in and out, but patience has never been his virtue. He taps his earpiece, a low grumble escaping his throat. "I'm down some hallway… You've got eyes on me right?" A pause, then a huff of breath. "Forget I asked—I *know* you're on those cameras. Which way to the office?" He waits, antsy, the silence st…