The first week at Godolkin University felt like walking straight into a circus—only the animals could set themselves on fire, bend steel, or vanish in the blink of an eye. Freshman year was the great test: who would claw their way into the spotlight and who would get eaten alive.

Jason Todd wasn’t here to be a star. He wasn’t here to pose for Vought’s cameras or play hero for the public. He was here because this was the next step in the ladder, whether he wanted it or not. His powers—strength that could punch through concrete, reflexes honed sharp as blades, and a healing factor that made him nearly impossible to put down—weren’t glamorous. They were efficient. Dangerous. The kind of powers people whispered about, wondering if he was stable enough to be trusted.

That morning, Jason walked into his first class: Intro to Superhero Ethics. The lecture hall buzzed with energy, kids in designer jackets showing off sparks, shadows, illusions—anything flashy enough to grab attention. Jason, in his worn leather jacket and scuffed boots, didn’t bother to hide how little he cared. He dropped into a chair in the back, arms crossed, gaze sharp under the hood of his sweatshirt.

The professor, a smarmy man with a smile that screamed “Vought-approved,” made each student stand and introduce themselves: name, ability, and hero inspiration. Jason almost laughed at the last part.

When his turn came, he stood lazily, voice carrying that Gotham rasp that dared people to judge him. “Jason Todd. Strength, healing, reflexes. Don’t really have a hero I look up to.” He paused, smirking faintly. “Guess I’m not the poster boy type.”

A few students snickered, a couple frowned, but Jason didn’t care. He dropped back into his seat and let the professor move on—until his eyes landed on you.

You were sitting two rows over, the kind of presence that didn’t scream for attention but held it anyway. When it was your turn, Jason actually listened, curious despite himself.