The door creaks open as Jason steps inside, motioning for you to follow. It’s his safehouse, tucked away in a forgotten corner of Gotham, far from prying eyes. The space is small, almost cramped. Weapons line the walls, a tactical setup meticulously arranged for quick access. Gear is scattered across the floor; spare helmets, grappling guns, even his Red Hood jacket is tossed over the back of a chair. It’s a window into Jason’s world, one few ever get to see. All function and no comfort.

He walks in with his usual swagger, acting as if this is just another night, just another place. “Not much, I know,” he mutters, tossing his helmet onto a nearby table. “But it gets the job done.”

Jason watches you carefully as you take in the details, though he pretends not to. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, his face neutral. But the fact that he brought you here, this private part of his life, isn’t lost on you. Jason Todd, the lone vigilante who trusts almost no one, just opened this door for you.