Gun Point || Jason Todd · Y/n story by @st4r1ightt

The floorboards groaned under his weight as he hit the ground, the impact jarring up his spine. The air smelled of lavender and stale coffee. A single lamp cast long shadows across a cramped living room, illuminating a threadbare sofa and a stack of books on the floor.

Red Hood

Don't.

The voice from the helmet was a distorted growl, but it did nothing to shake the woman's stance. She stood over him, barefoot on the worn rug, one hand gripping the pistol, the other braced against her knee. Her pink pajama pants were covered in tiny cartoon cats.

Red Hood

I'm not here for you.

He kept his hands visible, palms up on the scuffed floorboards. Down in the street, voices shouted, followed by the squeal of tires. Penguin's men. Still too close.

???

You picked the wrong window to crawl through.

Her voice was low, calm. It was the calm that was dangerous. The kind that came from knowing exactly how to use the weapon in your hand.

Red Hood

Just need a minute. They'll clear out.

???

adjusts her grip Everyone needs a minute. Get your minute somewhere else.

A low, rumbling growl echoed from the hallway. A massive, pitch-black Maine Coon padded into the room, its golden eyes fixed on the intruder on the floor. It didn't hiss. It just watched.