Radioactive Chapter 1: Waking Up, a batman fanfic

Radioactive

And yet, they say that the dead cannot rise… Tell that to Jason Todd.

WARNING: This story contains abuse, suggestive themes, self-harm, gore, violence, and language (mainly from Jason). I do not own Batman or anything related (if I did Damian would not have died).

This story is the prequel to Breaking Point and Blood of the Skull. So if you like this story, check out the others.

I don't own the Batfam or Radioactive by Imagining Dragons… or practically anything. I'm a poor, broke college student, who should probably be studying.

Chapter 1: Waking Up

Maggots and insects consume his rotting flesh. The smell of the corpse is revolting. The body has already started to decompose. Darkness surrounds the corpse. For three years this body has been decomposing. For three years this body has been lying in the satin lined coffin. The body has not received the justice it deserved for three years.

Whoa, oh, oh
Whoa, oh, oh
Whoa, oh, oh
Whoa

Rain pelts the body's grave from above. The wind screams in anger as the thunder rolls. Lightning fills the graveyard with electric blue light. A stone guardian angel weeps above the headstone. A single tear rolls off of the statue's face as a single bolt of lightning strikes the marble slab that hides the body beneath it. The slab cracks open as the earth begins to rumble and shake.

I'm waking up to ash and dust
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust
I'm breathing in the chemicals

"Aaaah! Bruuuce! H-help! B-batman!"

I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse
Whoa

The soon to be walking dead's screams are swallowed by the storm. His fists pound against the lid of his prison as he panics. He's hyperventilating. He doesn't know what's going on. He hasn't realized that he was dead. It doesn't take him long to realize that he's in a coffin. He does the only thing he can think of. He calls for his father to save him as he pounds on the coffin and claws at the lid of his prison.

I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my systems blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive
Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, oh, I'm radioactive, radioactive

He calms himself down a little as he tries to ignore the fact that maggots are consuming his flesh, that he's buried alive, that Batman isn't coming. He's alone. Taking a deep breath, he slips the buckle off of his belt as he trembles with fear. He'll be alright. He's trained for any situation.

I raise my flags, don my clothes
It's a revolution, I suppose
We'll paint it red to fit right in
Whoa

The metal tip of the belt's buckle is repeatedly driven into the lid of the wooden coffin. Finger nails are ripped from damaged skin as he claws his way out. Bloodied and bony fingers work diligently as he tries to preserve what little oxygen is left in the tomb.

I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus
This is it, the apocalypse
Whoa

The wood begins to crack. He takes a final breath and kicks the already cracked lid of the coffin. The damp soil begins to rain down on him. Yet, he keeps trying. He's not going to give up. Tiny splinters imbed themselves into his skin. But, he doesn't care. He only wants to escape the darkness, this Hell he's been buried in.

Finally, his right hand breaks through the top layer of the soil as he begins to haul himself out. He's crawling on all fours until his body can't take the strain anymore. Tears pour from his half sunken and hollow eyes. He's dragging himself by his hands, while screaming for his father to help him. A trail of blood, maggots, and torn flesh extend from the grave to the boy. His body has finally had enough. The walking dead is no longer crawling. He passes out from extreme exhaustion, with his father's name on his lips.

All systems go, the sun hasn't died
Deep in my bones, straight from inside

The stone angel weeps as the body is carried away in order to serve a dark purpose. Hands work assiduously to repair the damaged coffin and marble grave. No one will even notice that the body is missing for another year.

And yet, they say that the dead cannot rise… Tell that to Jason Peter Todd.