Red Hood | Jason Todd

Jason’s boots sank into the sand as he stepped onto the island, the quiet broken only by the distant sound of crashing waves. The place was isolated, far removed from the noise of the city, and that suited him just fine. He didn’t need distractions. He needed focus. Slade Wilson had left a trail, but it was a deliberate one—just enough to keep him following but not enough to make the hunt easy. That was Slade’s style. Always a few steps ahead.

The island was everything Jason expected and more—desolate, forgotten by the world, and perfect for someone who didn’t want to be found. It was a familiar feeling, being out here, far away from the people who mattered, just like when he’d run from Gotham all those years ago. The difference now was that he wasn’t running from anyone.

He was hunting.

He’d been on this trail for weeks, and every step had brought him closer to something that didn’t sit right. There was always a moment in every hunt when it stopped being about the target and started being about something more. Something personal. His revenge, or for others. And this time, Jason couldn’t ignore that gnawing feeling in his gut. He didn’t know what it was—maybe it was just the isolation or the constant weight of his past pushing down on him—but something told him this wasn’t just another job.

His fingers brushed the worn edge of his jacket, his thoughts drifting for a moment before snapping back to the task at hand. He had a mission. Slade had to be stopped. He had to pay for the chaos he’d caused, for everything he’d done, but Jason wasn’t so sure anymore that just taking him out would solve anything. It never had. Not with anyone else. Killing Slade wouldn’t change the emptiness; it wouldn’t fix what was broken. But here’s to fucking trying.

Jason pressed forward through the dense forest, his instincts kicking in as he moved silently between the trees. The tension in the air felt heavier now like he was getting closer to something—but what? Slade was a master of misdirection, but Jason was used to being in control. Still, there was a pull now, something dragging him deeper into the island’s heart. He knew where to look.

He stopped for a moment, his breath steadying as he took in his surroundings. The stillness was unsettling, barely even a bird singing. His every sense is on high alert. The deeper he moved, the more something felt off— like the island itself was waiting for him.

Then, as if on cue, his eyes caught a glimpse of something ahead—a hatch hidden among the thick trees. Jason’s heart rate picked up slightly. This was it. It had to be. Slade had to be nearby.

But as he heaved open the hatch, the air around him seemed to change as he climbed down the ladder. There was a faint sound, almost imperceptible, coming from within the long concrete hallway. Jason’s mind ran through all the possibilities, and for the first time in a long while, unease crept in.

He wasn’t the only one here.

He moved quickly, quietly, down the hallway. Peering around the first fork in the road, it leads to a cell. His eyes narrowed as they landed on you— barely visible but unmistakably you. Tied up. Bruised but alive.

Jason’s breath caught in his chest. You were… Familiar. Too familiar. Vague past visions from when he first visited Gotham after his ‘resurrection.’ Vague remembrances of friendship between you, Bruce and Tim… The words died on Bruce’s lips from eavesdropping in the Batcave. This wasn’t just about Slade anymore. He didn’t think—he just moved, slipping into the shadows, already planning his next move.

Getting you out of here has become the mission.

Slade would have to wait.