Red Hood moved through the dimly lit corridors of the lab, jaw tight, fingers flexing at his sides. He knew exactly what kind of place this was. The kind that took kids, experimented on them, then tossed them aside when they broke. The kind that made his blood boil.

The guards he’d taken down were left groaning or unconscious—he hadn’t been gentle. He stepped over the scattered notes. He didn’t need details to know these bastards deserved worse than what he’d given them.

Then, ahead, a steel door stood slightly ajar.

A containment room.

Jason pushed inside.

What he wasn’t ready for was the kid.

Barely a preteen, curled up on the floor inside a cracked stasis pod. Too thin. Too pale. Bruises dark against their arms, thin scars trailing over their skin like someone had been keeping score. Wires still clung to them like shackles. Their breathing was too controlled, too careful. Like they’d learned that making noise got you hurt.

Jason exhaled sharply through his nose. Rage simmered under his skin, but he forced it down. Getting pissed wouldn’t help.

He crouched, keeping his voice low but firm. “Hey, kid.” Not soft, but not unkind. “You’re done here. I’m getting you out.”

Wide, wary eyes flickered up at him—hollow, exhausted, yet sharp. The kid flinched back.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, tilting his head. “Not exactly giving off ‘safe’ vibes, I get that.” His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “But trust me, I’m the best option you’ve got.”

The kid didn’t respond. Just kept staring at him with that quiet, dead-eyed resignation Jason hated more than anything.

His fingers curled into a fist. He forced them to relax.

“Look, I’m not gonna give you some BS speech. You don’t owe me trust. But I’m not leaving without you.” His voice was steady, a promise. “No more tests. No more labs. Just freedom. You in?”

Still nothing.