ECHO (Jason Todd x reader)

Chapter 1 - Malachi Forman

The air is cold and crisp this gloomy Autumn morning on the streets of Gotham. People hurriedly walk past her as she hides her face in the thick scarf wrapped around her neck, offering her red and runny nose shelter from the nippy weather. She should have prioritized warmth over style, she thinks to herself. Her long, beige coat barely reaches her calves. However, it completes her fashion ensemble quite well. She picked out her favorite black skirt, a cozy white knit sweater, and sleek black boots for the occasion, completing the look with black tights. It is a job interview, so she has to look her best.

First impressions are everything.

She rounds the corner of a nondescript commercial building, making her way to the sketchy back entrance. Stopping before it, she pulls a small card from her coat pocket. "Arkhaven Research Institute," it reads. After confirming the name matches the one on the door, she knocks twice. A small window slides open to reveal an older man, his eyes the only thing she can see.

"H—" She begins, only to be cut off by the man's gruff voice.

"What's your business here?" He demands.

"Oh, well, I got this business card from the Gotham University job fair a week ago, and—" As soon as he spots the card in her hand, the man interrupts her once more.

"Come in," he unlocks the door, holding it open for her.

She hesitates for just a moment, but the man's impatience causes him to push her inside by her arm and lock the door behind her. She stands in the long, dim hallway as her thoughts run wild. Alarm bells sound within her mind—is she going to become a victim of sex trafficking? Or perhaps this man will gut her and sell her organs on the black market? The internal crisis is cut short by the guard giving her directions to the one whose name is on the business card, a doctor named Malachi Forman. She walks down the hall, the air growing colder with each step she takes. How is it possible it is colder here than outside? The walls are metal, serving as good insulation, she muses. Her trembling hands clutch her shoulders tightly to keep warm.

The bulkhead door finally comes into view, the initials "DR M.F." etched into the metal. As she raises her hand to knock, it meets only air instead of the expected metal.

"May I help you, miss?"

Her gaze follows up on a long, white lab coat. The name tag with the same initials catches her eye before she finally looks up at the face of the doctor. She uses every ounce of her willpower to keep from reacting to the sight of the distorted face. The skin is pockmarked and a sickly grey, with eyes deeply sunken. He appears to suffer from alopecia and congenital nasal absence. His lips are an unsettling shade of purple, so are his eyes. His strangely warm, yet guttural, voice is a complete contrast to his unique appearance.

She finally breaks away from her examination of the man in front of her to respond to his question, which he had waited so patiently for.

"Sorry. I'm here for the job interview?" She shows him the card.

His forehead tenses in a questioning manner. "Curious. Do come in." He offers her a hand to aid her in crossing the raised threshold. She presents him a tight smile before taking his hand, which feels icy and damp like it had been submerged in cold water just moments before he had opened the door.

Looking at it from the outside, she would not have guessed that the room would be so spacious, nor that it was a lab. Beakers of various colors and sizes clutter the room, and tables are littered with notes.

He gestures gracefully for her to take a seat in front of the mahogany desk, then moves around it to settle into the large red leather chair. He rests his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers, creating a contemplative, intense pose.