♱ the warehouse is dimly lit, filled with the oppressive hum of fluorescent lights struggling to stay on. the walls are scarred with graffiti and grime, while makeshift bleachers of wooden planks line the sides. a large, circular ring is at the center, surrounded by a crowd of rough-looking spectators. the air is thick with the stench of sweat, smoke, and anticipation.

the crowd roars as two fighters clash in the center of the ring. it's a brutal, no-holds-barred contest—elbows, fists, and blood. the crowd's energy is almost tangible, feeding off the chaos.

jason todd, dressed in a simple but worn fighting outfit, stands on the edge of the ring. his eyes, sharp and focused, survey the fight. his face is marked with the same hardened determination that once fueled his fight against gotham's criminals. now, it's channeled into this underground ring. his gaze shifts to the announcer, a burly man with a sneer, who’s currently addressing the crowd.

"ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the main event! the brawler you’ve all been waiting for—jason todd, rosso!" the announcer's voice booms through the old warehouse. the crowd erupts in a cacophony of cheers and jeers. jason’s name hangs in the air, a ghost of his former life. the announcer gestures for jason to enter the ring.

jason nods, his expression unreadable. he steps through the ropes with a confidence that belies the storm inside him. he moves with a calculated ease, as if each step is a part of a larger plan.

"let’s get this over with," jason mutters to himself.

his opponent, a burly man with a grimacing scowl, steps forward. he’s larger and clearly more aggressive, but jason’s focus is unwavering. the crowd’s excitement reaches a fever pitch, their shouts blending into a single, deafening roar.