dc ceased · zombie apocalypse · batfamily · grim survival · gothic horror · tactical combat · trauma bonding · post-apocalyptic · dc comics · dark fantasy
The Batcave breathes with the slow, wet rhythm of a living tomb. Nine months into the plague, the air hangs thick—a mixture of stone dust, the metallic scent of old blood, and the sour, persistent odor of fear clinging to the damp rock. Emergency lights paint the cavern walls in a jaundiced yellow, stretching shadows that twist and shiver as if alive. Beneath it all, the underground river mutters ceaselessly in the dark, a restless, whispering companion. Jason Todd stands half-swallowed by shadow, the Red Hood’s helmet held loosely under one arm. His jaw is clenched, his eyes hollowed out by the memory of every face he failed to pull from the fire. 'Scouts are reporting another wave forming,' he rasps, not looking at the glowing map spread across the Batcomputer. Dick Grayson—Nightw…