In honour of the spooky season, thought I'd do another oneshot.

______________

Warning: This is horror based so there will be depictions of graphic content and dark stuff

Have you ever seen hell? Experienced what it's like for the world to seem at its most chaotic, its most destructive. Well let me tell you something friend, I have. I was born in Raised on Earth itself, Arkham Asylum. Before Bruce stepped up, let's say Arkham was worse than Hell. The system was broken, no one cared. No one cared about about a child being admitted to the Asylum because the system didn't care, didn't notice a four year old running about the place. It was only when one Dark Knight came in, dragging a Killer Clown into the Asylum did someone finally notice me. But that's a tale, for another day.

Bruce took me away from that Hell, made sure I had a decent home. And when the time came, brought me up into the Light. Enabled me to make sure no child will fall into the same Hell I was. But there are some things even Bruce Wayne can't control. Cause right now;

Hell had Come to Earth, Literally.

Hours Earlier

3rd Person POV

A man in his middle twenties wildly swung his hand around, attempting to slam it down and press the snooze alarm on his alarm clock which repeated to beep. While the twenty something year old managed to silence his alarm, he had accidentally hit the snooze button which he did not know. Looking over at his alarm, the man known as Y/N L/N gently rubbed his left eye, swinging his legs over to sit up properly. The time was 10:15 AM, he had allowed himself to sleep in after a successful blow to Great White Sharks criminal organisation last night.

Pushing himself to his feet, Y/N groaned out loudly, there were a few bruises scattered across his body from the beating he took just a few hours ago at the Gotham Docks. Shark had gotten his greedy little fins on a small supply of Venom and Y/N had been tracking the shipment from New York all the way to Gotham. Thankfully Bruce was okay with having another pair of hands to help. I mean, Tim, Dick, Barb and Jason were currently in town. Shark and his goons pretty much got jumped by the Bat Family.

Y/N looked out the nearby window of his Gotham apartment, while he wasn't wearing a top it's not like anyone would be looking at his specific window. The city was alive as ever, cars stuck in traffic, people yelling over each other, businessmen trying to get to their office jobs. It was like every other Metropolitan City around the globe, save for the obvious supervillains and superheroes lurking in the shadows.

Just then, the snoozed alarm clock suddenly burst to life once again. Blaring whatever the local radio station was playing;

'The Justice League have given no response to the videos of their very own Victor Stone, Cyborg. Seemingly abducted by Parademons of Apokolips, while Booster Gold did-' the clock was shut off by Y/N once again. Making sure to fully switch the clock's alarm off for good today.

"Abducted? Ha" Y/N laughed as he made his way towards the bathroom to get himself washed, showered, and shaved. "Like the League would ever let that happen" he added, shutting the bathroom door and allowing that to happen" the League were like a well oiled machine. When one of them came under attack from other worldly enemies, the others would spring into action. Probably some propaganda G. Gordon Godfrey was shilling to his viewers.

Dressed in plain dark blue jeans, a white short sleeved shirt and jacket over that. Y/N left his apartment to move into downtown Gotham, he needed some food and he knew just the cafe to cure his hunger.

Y/N had just left the cafe, with a cup of hot coffee in hand, and a bag full of pastries in the other, his fingers wrapped around the warmth of the cup. He took a sip, relishing the rich, bitter taste. Life was good, or so he thought. Little did he know that his life was about to take a horrific turn.

The first sign that something was terribly wrong came in the form of a scream. It was a high-pitched, blood-curdling shriek that pierced through the cacophony of the city. Y/N froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked around, searching for the source of the sound.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered under his breath, the words barely escaping his trembling lips. Panic began to bubble within him as he saw people around him react. Faces turned to the source of the scream, and a collective sense of unease settled over the crowd.

Then, as if on cue, chaos erupted. A woman, her eyes wide with terror, stumbled forward, her movements erratic and unsteady. Y/N watched in horror as she crashed into a lamppost, her body convulsing. It was as if she had lost control of her own limbs.

"Someone help her!" a man shouted, rushing forward to assist the woman. But when he reached out to touch her, the woman turned with a sudden, jerking motion, her eyes vacant, devoid of life. Y/N's heart sank as he realized what he was witnessing.

"Zombie," he whispered, a sense of dread creeping over him. The word was common in pop culture, flesh eating hordes of the undead. Hell bent on consuming flesh of any variety, human or animal. 28 Days Later, Walking Dead, COD, Dawn of the Dead, Shaun of the Dead, so on and so fourth. Each iteration tend to have their own unique spin on things, but at the end of things they were all the same.

Panic spread like wildfire through the crowd. People screamed and shoved each other in their desperation to get away from the infected woman. Y/N took a step back, his coffee mug slipping from his fingers, forgotten on the pavement. He needed to get out of there, to find safety.

Y/N looked around, seeing whatever this plague was in effect. Individuals of all genders and ages, looking down at their devices, technology connected to the world wide web. As soon as someone looked down at the screen of the phone, the virus took hold of their brain. Their screams of pain and terror echoing and tearing apart the insides of their vocal chords, the screams slowly turning into animal like snarls. Their hands tug into their foreheads, clawing at them, trying to claw the virus out of their very skull leaving their hands bright blood red and their faces a mess.

The vigilante spun around and delivered a kick to an undead creature that attempted to dive at him. As the former person landed on the ground, they instantly pushed themselves back up and towards Y/N. Whatever this plague, virus, disease was, it made the ordinary person an relentless carrier, pushing their bodies to the limit in order to spread the plague.

But as Y/N turned to run, he realized that the nightmare was closing in on him from all sides. More infected individuals emerged from the crowd, their movements jerky and unnatural. They stumbled and lurched, their eyes glazed over, hungering for something that Y/N couldn't comprehend. The horde were trampling and pushing each other over, piling up in hopes of grasping at Y/N and infect him with the virus.

"Shit," he muttered, his heart racing as he backed away from the advancing horde. He felt trapped, cornered by the relentless tide of the infected. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced himself to think, to find an escape.

He spotted an alleyway to his left, a narrow path leading away from the main street. Without hesitation, he darted into it, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. He needed to find a place to hide, to regroup and figure out what to do next.

The alleyway was dimly lit, the high walls casting long shadows that seemed to close in on him. Y/N's breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled over discarded trash and debris. He reached into his pocket for his phone, desperate to call for help, but his trembling fingers struggled to unlock it.

And then, as if to add to his despair, he heard them. Low, guttural moans echoed through the alley. Y/N froze, his eyes widening as he realized that the infected were not far behind. They had followed him into the alley, drawn by the scent of his fear.

He turned to face them, his heart pounding in his chest. There were three of them, their faces twisted into grotesque masks of hunger. One of them, a man in tattered clothing, reached out toward him, his fingers clawing the air.

Y/N had no choice but to defend himself. He swung his coffee mug like a makeshift weapon, smashing it against the head of the closest infected. The hot liquid burning the flesh causing the creature to reel over in screeches of fear, and the creature stumbled backward, a guttural growl escaping its lips.

But there were still two more to deal with, and Y/N knew that he was running out of time. He kicked a discarded cardboard box toward the second infected, causing it to trip and fall. Then, he turned and sprinted deeper into the alley, hoping to put some distance between himself and the remaining threat. Just as the second creature was closing the distance, release harsh growls and snarls.

With all his might, Y/N leapt upwards grabbing hold of a nearby fire escape latter leading upwards. He quickly claimed, his arms swinging and grabbing the cold metal hoping to get himself upwards and to safety. The undead beneath him growled like animals who had lost their prey, throwing themselves up in hopes of reaching Y/N but to no avail. As Y/N reached the rooftop, he could see the chaos and destruction this plague has caused while only being five minutes active. Screams rung through the air, large fire balls were being created as cars toppled over and burst into flames with civilians still inside. With just a few minutes gone, hundreds, no thousands, perhaps millions across the globe have already been infected. The screams of innocents running for their lives were followed up with the growls of the undead chasing after them.

The once vibrant streets were now a haunting tableau of chaos. Buildings stood as silent sentinels, witnessing the horrors that unfolded beneath their shadows. The moans of the undead echoed through the empty streets, a grim symphony of despair.

Y/N took in sharp breath, trying his best to control his emotions. In just a few short minutes, Gotham had been transformed into literal Hell on Earth. Closing his eyes, Y/N sucked in a sharp, calming breath through his nostrils. There was nothing he could do at the moment, he needed to get back to his apartment, get the suit. Then try and figure out a real plan through all this.

The journey to the apartment was an unpleasant one to say the least, Y/N stuck to the rooftops avoiding all the undead he could. He made sure to assist what people he could, get to higher ground away from the plagues. High ground was the best place to be, while the infected were agile and could definitely get up there. By severing the emergency steps, and only keeping ladders as a primary form of access.

Y/N literally dove into his apartment through the window, tucking and rolling as shards of glass exploded everywhere and covered the small living room. Y/N could hear the growls and creeks out in the corridor, infected were already in the building. And judging by high tech this apartment block was, wouldn't surprise him if the most of the building is infected. But first he went to his suit, packed away neatly in a corner.

"Come on, come" he mumbled to himself, unscrewing the black of the helmet to get access to the main circuitry. Taking a small razor blade, Y/N severed the major connections of the suit that allowed it to receive data from the internet, JL Watchtower and whatever the Titans used. He didn't however, sever any of the connections the suit used to access radio signals. As Y/N figured, that from he'd seen, you needed to look at a screen to get infected, not listen to anything. Piece but piece, Y/N slotted his heavy armour over himself. Connecting each pad, and rotating his shoulders and cracking his neck to ensure that everything was working fine. Finally he slotted the helmet over his face, the bright lights turning as he stood up. Suited up and ready, as the;

Arkham Knight

The dual handguns hung at his sides, ready to dispense justice in the form of cold steel. He hung out of the window, eyes scanning the desolation that had befallen his beloved Gotham.

With steely determination, Y/N moved forward, his every step calculated and purposeful. He knew he couldn't save everyone, but he would be damned if he didn't try. His training kicked in, honed reflexes guiding his movements as he dispatched the infected with swift, efficient precision.

The crack of gunfire punctuated the air as Y/N fired round after round into the approaching horde. His aim was true, each shot finding its mark with lethal accuracy. The infected fell, their bodies crumpling to the ground in grotesque tableaus of death.

As he fought, Y/N's mind raced. He needed a plan, a way to stem the tide of the infected and find a sanctuary for the survivors. His mind's eye flickered to the Cave. If anyone would have contingencies for times like these, it would be Bruce of all people. Whacking an infected in the back of the head with one gun, and blowing its brains out with the other gun. Looking over, Y/N saw they just kept coming.

The infected were relentless, an unending horde were if you cut down one zombie. Four more were around the corner ready to take its place. Holstering one handgun Y/N fled, popping off shots into the horde as he folded open his left arms wrist mounted grapple gun, which fired upwards and lifted Y/N away to safety. For now at least. The journey to Wayne Manor was definitely less than easy, but once he had reached the outskirts of Gotham, the undead seemed to be less and less present. Finding a school bus which had been abandoned, blood littering the inside, Y/N started her up. And began his journey to what was once his home, and prayed to God he'd find someone. The drive would take a few hours, he had to avoid the main highways after all.

Y/N's footsteps echoed through the cavernous hallways, the sound ringing out like a ghostly refrain. The grand chandeliers that once illuminated these halls were now dark, their ornate glass casting elongated shadows that danced on the walls. Dust and cobwebs clung to every surface, shrouding the manor in an aura of abandonment.

As he ventured deeper into the heart of the manor, Y/N felt a shiver run down his spine. The portraits of the Wayne family that adorned the walls seemed to watch him with mournful eyes, as if lamenting the tragedy that had befallen their once-proud legacy. The air was heavy with the weight of secrets and sorrow, making every step through the manor feel like a descent into madness.

Finally, Y/N reached the hidden entrance to the Batcave, hidden behind a bookshelf that creaked in protest as he pushed it aside. The Batcave, a place of sanctuary and technological marvels, had become a tomb of despair. The fluorescent lights buzzed to life, casting a harsh, sterile glow over the cavernous underground lair.

Emotions surged within Y/N as he took in the grim tableau before him. Lined up on the floor of the Batcave, in front of the massive Batcomputer, were the lifeless bodies of Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, and Bruce Wayne. The heroes of Gotham had succumbed to the infection, their lifeless eyes staring into eternity. His family, left just left here.

Tim Drake, once the bright and resourceful Robin, lay closest to the computer, his red and green costume marred with dirt and dried blood. Dick Grayson, the first Robin, was beside him, his Nightwing suit torn and disheveled. And at the center of this mournful scene was Bruce Wayne, the Batman, his iconic cowl removed to reveal the lifeless face of a man who had fought for justice until the very end.

It was clear that they had been put down, their once-mighty bodies now still and powerless. The scene was a gut-wrenching tableau of loss, a cruel reminder of the relentless cruelty of the infection. Y/N's heart ached as he gazed upon the fallen heroes who had once protected the city.

"Not you" Y/N whispered to himself, removing his Arkham Knight mask as he found it difficult to breathe as thew shock and horror of the situation hit him. "Not you" he repeated as tears streamed down his face, his shoulders shaking with sobs that echoed through the cavernous lair. He had lost his family, the people he had looked up to, admired, and loved. Tim, Dick, and Bruce, their faces etched into his memory, were now lifeless, their heroic spirits extinguished by the relentless tide of the infection. In that solitary, heart-wrenching moment, Y/N's world had shattered. His cries echoed through the Batcave, a lament for the heroes who had fallen, for the city that had been consumed by darkness, and for the family that would never return.

Y/N heard something scuttling in the darkness, in complete anger and sadness he reached for one his sidearms and aimed it in the direction of the noise. But behind the large penny, came a familiar face, and a welcome one at that. Ace the Bat Hound. Growling at Y/N as he didn't recognise Y/Ns scent, the old dog was getting old after all. Slowly Y/N inched closer to the dog, who gave Y/N a small sniff and instantly recognised him.

"RR?" Ace asked, snuggling up to Y/N who welcomed the trusty hound with a hug.

"I know boy" Y/N said as Ace began to wag his tail, finally met with a good sight. But Y/N quickly looked to the corpses in front of them, "Don't worry. We're not gonna leave them like this, it's okay".

Y/N's steps were heavy, laden with sorrow, as he made his way through the cavernous Batcave. The cavern that had once been a sanctuary for heroes had now become a tomb. He knew what he had to do. He needed to give his fallen brothers and father a final resting place, a place befitting of the heroes they had been.

His fingers found a shelf filled with shovels, and he selected one, the metal cold and unyielding in his grip. As he walked back to the somber scene before him, he couldn't help but resent the world that had forced him to take on this grim task.

The earth in the Batcave was unforgiving, but Y/N didn't care. He began to dig, the sound of the shovel scraping against the ground filling the cave with a mournful rhythm. Each scoop of earth was a painful reminder of what had been lost.

He started with Tim, his once-vibrant friend and ally. Y/N carefully placed his fallen brother in a makeshift grave, a sense of finality settling over him as he covered Tim's body with soil. Then, he moved on to Dick, a mentor who had always stood by his side. Y/N's hands trembled as he laid Dick to rest, the weight of his loss almost unbearable.

Finally, Y/N came to Bruce, the man who had been a father to him in every sense of the word. The tears in his eyes blurred his vision as he gently lowered Bruce into the ground. He couldn't help but remember all the times they had stood together, the lessons, and the sacrifices. It was an agonizing farewell.

With the last of the earth covering Bruce's body, Y/N felt a deep sense of emptiness. The cave, once a symbol of strength and resolve, was now a grave, a solemn reminder of the heroes who had given everything to protect Gotham.

Y/N leaned on the shovel, his breath ragged, his eyes filled with tears. He had done what he could for his brothers and his father, but the pain of their loss would never truly fade. In that dark and quiet cave, he made a vow to honor their memory, to continue the fight, and to be the hero Gotham needed, even if it meant bearing the weight of their absence for the rest of his days.

Hours passed, and Y/N's efforts to establish contact with the outside world had been in vain. The isolation of the Batcave weighed heavily on him, and the reality of the situation seemed even more suffocating. He had done what he could to honor his fallen family, but the solitude was a constant reminder of their absence.

It was in this heavy silence that Y/N heard the sound of footsteps echoing through the cave. He turned, his heart pounding, and there, emerging from the shadows, was Jason Todd, the Red Hood. Behind him, Rose Wilson, the Ravager approached with a solemn expression. They had arrived, drawn by Y/N's desperate attempts to reach out.

Jason's gaze locked onto Y/N's, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and understanding. He knew something was terribly wrong, and the heavy atmosphere in the cave only confirmed his suspicions. "Y/N," Jason said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.

Y/N struggled to find the words, to articulate the pain and loss that he had experienced. He took a deep breath, and with a heavy heart, he broke the news to his brother. "Tim, Dick, and Bruce... they're gone, Jason. They succumbed to the infection. I had to... I had to put them down."

Jason's face contorted with grief and anger. He had lost his family once before, only to be reunited with them under the most harrowing of circumstances. Now, he was faced with another painful loss. His jaw tightened, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion.

At that moment, Rose Wilson. She had her own history of loss and pain. She reached out to him, offering a comforting presence, a silent gesture of support.

Behind them, Y/N saw an odd sight even with all the shit he had seen these trying times. A bus, a school bus, filled with men, women, children, all looking scared and holding another in these sad times.

"You wanna explain that to me?" Y/N asked Jason, who looked to Rose. He placed a firm hand on Y/N's shoulder, his expression softening as he nodded.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. This... this isn't something we were ever prepared for. But we're not alone." Jason's voice was low, steady. "I found others—survivors. People who managed to escape the infection somehow."

Y/N glanced between Jason and Rose, his gaze searching. "Where did you find them? How'd you know they were even out there?"

Jason took a breath, the weight of his words heavy in the stillness of the cave. "I was scoping out Burnside, hoping for supplies, and I found them holed up in a fortified church. They were starving, on edge... They'd survived by sheer luck, hiding out after the infection swept through their neighborhood."

Rose crossed her arms, looking off to the side, her expression a mix of tension and resolve. "We brought them here. Figured we'd grab what we could from the Batcave—ammo, food, water. Then, we're heading as far out of Gotham as we can get. Away from... all this."

Y/N felt a twinge of doubt. "Leaving the city? Bruce... he wouldn't want us to run. He'd want us here, holding the line, finding a way to fix this."

Jason's expression hardened, his brow furrowing. "And he died because of it. Bruce was a good man, but he'd want us to save who we can, even if it means bailing. What's left of Gotham is already lost, Y/N. And if we stay here? We're going to end up like him."

Y/N swallowed, torn between his loyalty to Bruce's ideals and the grim reality Jason laid out. The idea of abandoning the city didn't sit right, but he couldn't deny the truth he saw in Jason's eyes—the resolve to save what little was left, even if it meant letting go of everything else.

Rose stepped forward, her voice softer than usual, and placed a hand on his arm. "Y/N, we can't fight the entire city. The infection spreads like wildfire, and there's no help coming. If we don't get these people out, they won't survive." She tilted her head toward the shadows of the cave, where several frightened faces peeked out, clinging to the thin hope that the Batcave could offer safety.

A chorus of whimpers and shuffling footsteps drifted into the dimly lit cave as the survivors moved closer, each one exhausted and fearful. Jason glanced at Y/N, his voice firm yet unyielding. "If we go, we can keep these people alive—maybe start over somewhere safe, find out if this plague has a weakness."

With a resigned sigh, Y/N nodded, his gaze falling on the shadows of the Batcave where the three graves lay. "Alright," he said quietly. "We'll load up, get what we need... and get out of here."

"Good" Jason said, looking towards a nearby Batmobile that was parked. "I just have one thing I need to do"

Jason, Rose and Y/N crammed as many survivors and Ace as they could into the Batmobile. Disconnected from the internet it meant they wouldn't get infected, its armour and weapons would make sure no infected could get in. It lead the charge, ramming through cars and roadblocks of flesh as it lead the way for the school bus loaded with the rest of the survivors and the trio of heroes.

And what did Jason have to do that was so important?

He mounted a corpse to the front of the Batmobile.

A Warning

"Seriously?" Rose asked from back of the school bus looking towards what could have been the last remaining members of the Batfamily. "Are you sure that's necessary?"

Both men looked at Rose, then at each other, and then back to Rose;

"Yes" they answered at the same time.

In a fleeting moment, Rose tried to keep away the deafening silence. "Well, on the bright side, no z list supervillains anymore, right?" she joked, forcing a small smile, her voice laced with a sense of bitter irony. "THey're all equally dangerous now"

Jason smirked, but his eyes stayed sharp, scanning the perimeter. "Yeah, don't gotta deal with the Eraser huh?" His hand tightened around his gun, and his posture remained guarded. "If you ignore the whole bloodthirsty monster thing pretty sweet deal."

Y/N added, a bit softer, "Least we don't have to worry about Condiment King, damn suit would smell for weeks." They all let out strained chuckles, but beneath the laughter, the grimness weighed heavy. "Bet the Bad Samaritan is thriving" he chuckled looking at a bank on fire. Referencing a villain that Rose could only cock her head at in confusion at the name.

The humor gave way to silence as they crossed another ruined street, but then the noise changed, subtly at first. A strange scraping sound, faint at first, but it soon grew louder, rising in volume and tempo. Then, all at once, figures appeared on either side of the bus, shambling first, then sprinting, bloody faces distorted with raw hunger.

The first of the infected hurled itself at the bus, smacking against the metal with a sickening thud. It left a streak of blood and grime on the window as it slid down, clawing desperately. More infected appeared, emerging from alleyways, dark doorways, and even from the shadows of broken-down cars. With each impact, the metal of the bus vibrated, and Y/N, Jason, and Rose's grips tightened.

"Guess they're not fans of us leaving," Jason muttered, drawing his weapon, but his eyes never left the oncoming flood of infected.

A loud crack sounded as one of the windows shattered, and a grotesque hand reached through, fingers clawing at anything they could grab. Rose was the first to react, slashing down with her knife and dispatching the infected with a brutal efficiency. Jason moved to assist, kicking another infected that managed to cling onto the side, sending it flying back into the horde outside.

Despite their efforts, the numbers of the infected only seemed to grow. They threw themselves against the bus with a desperate, maddened frenzy, piling on one another, bodies stacking and sliding as they clawed and shrieked. It was a horrific display a rolling wave of decay and hunger attaching itself to the vehicle, pulling it back with the weight of its own dead.

The bus began to slow, struggling to pull forward under the burden of the infected that latched onto it, creating a macabre trail of clinging bodies that dragged like a chain. Each thud, each scrape, felt like a blow to their hope of escaping. The Batmobile tried to pull ahead, clearing a path for the bus, but the infected were relentless, only drawn further by the sound and sight of potential prey.

"Faster, come on!" Y/N yelled to the driver, the urgency in their voice rising. The bus engine revved, but the horde's weight was relentless, pulling them back inch by inch.

Y/N and Rose kicked the rear door open, revealing the zombies who held onto the rear for their undead lives. Skin peeling back due to the contact with the metal and their bodies ripping apart as more and more infected threw themselves at the end of the pile. Both unloaded their pistols into the infected holding on, blowing their bodies to pieces both they were quickly replaced.

"Come on you fucks" Rose cursed, whipping out her sword and stabbing into another. But seeing two fresh meat bags in front of them, only drove the horde even more feral as they began to climb over another. "Shit" Rose cursed.

Y/N looked in front of him, seeing this unending tide of fresh and blood approaching him. Behind him, Jason was dealing with his trouble. More infected throwing themselves through windows, teeth and claws at the ready as they went for the people. Y/N felt his heart rate sky rocket, from behind his mask sweat poured. A dreadful feeling overcome him, the feeling of hopelessness, spreading through his core. And this, was matched by his brain, which had an even more dreadful and suicidal idea.

"Rose" he said, gaining her attention as the Titan ejected a pistol magazine and replaced it.

"Yeah?"

"Look after Jason for me" was all Y/N said, looking from the white haired woman to the horde. With pistols blasting, eyes of both infected and living on him, the Arkham Knight leapt into the horde, screaming his lungs out. A scream that echoed through all of Gotham, garnering the attention of all the infected that were lunging at the bus. A scream so powerful that all living humans on the bus could only stare in awe, as Y/N let out a war cry.

"Come on you fucks!" the Knight swore, rolling along the ground, emptying his pistols into the undead who charged at him. With one empty, Y/N threw the pistol and an oncoming infected knocking them to the ground and stabbing on their head killing them.

"Turn the bus around!" Jason demanded angrily, seeing his brother in the distance, his figure getting smaller and smaller.

"Jason" Rose said, trying to get the vigilante to calm down.

"Turn the fucking bus around!" he repeated again

"JASON!" she said again, this time he looked at her. Through her eye Rose was able to see the mans face, tears strolling down his face. The only thing Rose could do was hug the Red Hood, giving him comfort.

An explosion rung out, the Knight throwing grenades into the horde that once attached itself to the bus. Spraying brains, blood, guts and bones around Y/N as he loaded another magazine. One infected dove at his shoulder, peeling away at the armour but right before it could chomp down it was met with a knife through the eye.

Reaching to his belt, the Arkham Knight pulled out a submachine gun. Spraying bullets into approaching undead, striking several of them in the head but some in the bodies still going. The Knight breathed heavily, exhausted. Right when his guard was down, another undead was upon Y/N. This time its teeth bit into his shoulder. The man let out a screech of pain, and the blew the infected's brains out.

Y/N looked to his wound, blood pouring from it, bite marks present as he knew this was it. The Arkham Knight peeled the mask from his face and threw it aside. More undead just continued to rush towards him. He let out a sigh.

"Come on then boys" he said, reaching for his belt as the undead tackled him to the floor. They claws and bit down, throwing the armour away and tearing his flesh apart. Skin was peeled away effortlessly like a banana, his eyes wide and bloodshot, but the man felt no pain. Despite his body about to be torn open, the man held a smile. "Have a bite" he finished, un-clicking two grenades. The Arkham Knight, and the horde, were blown sky high.

The Arkham Knight had given a small band of survivors a chance, and in his last moments. Y/N was just glad he made some small form of a difference in this miserable thing he called a life.

Author's Note

So that was a thing. Bet you all wondering where this came from? This was actually something I was gonna publish about a year or 2 ago. And I've just kinda added to it here and there. Just thought I'd finish it up for the spooky season. Get it out there for people to enjoy.

That's why it might feel disjointed, some areas have detail while some don't. This for a time turned into the frustration book I'd write in when feeling I just needed to write something. So fun.

Very different from what I usually do, so I hope it was okay. Bit of a downer ending, but its DCeased, most of the first book was depressing lol

Anyway,

What was your favourite part of the chapter?

Check Out My Other Works

Thoughts? Praise? Criticisms?

Hope You Enjoyed

Have a Nice Morning/Day/Evening/Night

See You Next Time