GOTHAM CITY
March 31, 23:25 EST
Batman was wrong, it wasn't a madhouse, it was Hell.
Robin stared out the window of the Batmobile in shock. The toxin had spread so quickly…
Cars were burning, spewing smoke into the air. Through the haze, the shambling hordes were like something off of The Walking Dead. There were hundreds of them flooding the streets and sidewalks, men in ripped suits and women dressed in once-fine dresses. They'd been normal, ordinary people enjoying date night, perhaps in celebration of escaping the end of the world at the hands of a gigantic asteroid. But thanks to the sick, twisted mind of a psychopath, they'd wound up in the middle of a totally different apocalypse.
"They're not dead, remember that." Batman's voice broke the silence hovering over the duo, "they're just sick. We can cure them if we deliver the antidote in time. So, don't go shooting anyone in the head, okay?"
Robin raised an eyebrow at the man beside him. Was Batman trying to make a joke to make Robin feel better? A gun joke about murder at that.
Huh. Desperate times…
Robin let a smile play across his face, "I'll keep that in mind, Bats."
The silence descended again.
They'd been unable to get in contact with Alfred. Apparently, the network was down, and all that had come through was static.
Batman weaved the car through the still traffic, and Robin was once again grateful that the zombies crowding the city seemed to instinctively move out of the way of the speeding vehicle. If they managed to cure everybody the last thing they needed was three hundred squished pedestrians.
When. Not if, when they managed to cure everybody.
But how?
"Batman, when we find the antitoxin, how in the world are we going to distribute it to a whole city?" Robin worriedly asked.
"I'm hoping we'll find a version of the antitoxin that can be easily aerosolized, and once we work out where Strange set up the toxin distribution we can trade it out and cure everyone as easily as they were infected." He answered.
"Okay, good Plan A. What's Plan B?"
Batman smirked. Always prepare for the worst, that was his mantra. "Plan B is to manufacture as much non-aerosolized antidote as possible, and cure as many people as we can by hand. Anything else, such as putting it in the water supply or dropping it from crop dusters, depends on the makeup of the antitoxin itself. We have to make sure each person receives the right concentration, or it won't work."
The Batmobile's monitor beeped, telling them that the air analysis was complete. Robin leaned over and looked at the results.
"Anything?"
"Nothing, the air's clean."
"The toxin must have dispersed just as quickly as that smashed antitoxin vial." Batman said.
"Do you think it's safe to take our masks off?" Robin asked, rubbing his hand over the smooth plexiglass that had spared him from the horrible fate of the people outside.
"Probably, if the air analysis is normal we shouldn't be affected."
Both of them slid their masks off, breathing deeply.
As Batman had predicted, nothing happened.
"Great, now we just need to worry about the old-fashioned method of infection." Robin said, rubbing his sore leg absentmindedly. The old-fashioned way: bites. As every zombie fan knew, getting bitten was paramount to a death sentence. When he'd felt the intense pressure on his leg back in the Asylum his heart had just about stopped. He had been so sure he was bitten, so sure Batman would have to watch him turn into an undead monster. But he was safe, Bruce's overprotectiveness and insistence on thick armor on basically every inch of his body ensuring that he still walked among the living.
"I sure am glad you got me this new costume, Batman. It probably just saved my life."
"I'm glad too."
The Batmobile rounded a corner and raced down the long street leading to the police station. They were maybe a block or two away when the sky overhead was suddenly lit up by the familiar symbol.
Robin shared a sigh of relief with Batman. If the signal was being lit then someone on that roof was uninfected. And the only person with the key to turn on the signal was Jim Gordon.
They quickly parked and grappled to the roof, a repeat of the same thing they'd done about two hours ago.
Framed by the gigantic spotlight was a familiar outline in a long overcoat.
"Commish! Thank God, you're all right! Strange's bioweapon…" Robin's excited greeting trailed off as more dark shapes emerged from behind the shadow of the Batsignal.
"Commissioner." Batman demanded, getting a sinking feeling in his stomach.
The familiar silhouette turned to face him, and the light from the beam finally reached their face.
Pale, peeling skin. Bloodshot, deadened eyes. Drooling mouth, teeth bared in a snarl.
The commissioner was infected.
And based on the sounds coming from behind him, so were his friends.
Robin cursed, "oh shit."
"Language." Batman murmured quietly, already shifting into a fighting stance.
The zombified commissioner and fifteen extremely large, undead police officers charged towards them.
As Robin fought, he tried his best not to severely injure the infected officers like he had that Arkham guard, but it was getting harder to simply evade the longer the fight went on.
To his alarm, the zombies appeared to retain a few things from before they were infected, particularly their ability to run very fast and fight with adequate hand-to-hand combat skills. Even on an off-day Robin could have taken down any one of these guys with one hand tied behind his back, blindfolded. But it wasn't just one attacker, there were at least six or seven. And because they were innocent victims caught up in a madman's scheme he was forced to dial down his retaliatory strikes and simply evade the reaching hands.
From the corner of his eye he could see Batman holding his own against the other half of this nice little surprise party. He was throwing what Robin had dubbed "KO punches," because nine times out of ten the strike would completely knock out the victim for at least thirty minutes. Robin grunted in dissatisfaction. His attempted "KO punches" only worked five times out of ten, because he simply couldn't put as much force behind each hit as Batman did.
Hopefully one day soon he'd be able to hit back like that. But until then, he'd have to continue his usual aerial assault.
Oh well. His fighting style was much more fun, after all.
Launching into another flip, Robin lashed out with his foot and delivered a sharp kick to the temple of a particularly nasty-looking zombie. He collapsed backwards into one of his buddies, who pushed him off and charged directly for the Boy Wonder.
Robin ducked the first fist, but grabbed hold of the second one as it whooshed by his face and pulled, flipping his larger opponent over his shoulder and onto the ground. A punch to the temple took him out of the fight for a while.
Robin whirled around as hands tightly grabbed his shoulders, using the next man's chest as a springboard to catapult himself backwards through the air. He adjusted his body in midair, and landed in a fighting crouch a few yards away.
The acrobat took a second to take a deep breath and focus his mind on the "big picture" of the fight. How many were left? He'd taken out four of his attackers, so that left three closest to him. Batman had taken out six attackers, and was finishing off his last two. Also, Gordon was lurking around somewhere, but he couldn't spot him at the moment. The Batsignal was still lighting up the roof and the clouds above. The door to the rest of the precinct was still closed, no reinforcements yet. The fires from the streets painted ghastly shadows on the surrounding buildings.
We need to finish this fight and get back to the Batcave, maybe call in reinforcements?
But wait, basically the entire Justice League was currently in space, preparing for a showdown with a planet-killing asteroid. Talk about great timing. On the superhero front they were definitely coming up empty.
But what about the Team?
At the thought, Robin's mood lightened. Yes! His friends weren't in space, and they would definitely have his back. The thought of asking them to come to this warzone filled him with guilt, but the city could use all the help it could get.
Filled with hope once more, Robin eased two batarangs into his hands and simultaneously launched them at his two closest opponents. They groaned and screeched when the sharp blades ripped into their shoulders, falling to the ground and effectively out of the fight. Before the remaining man could even take a step backwards Robin was on him, leaping high into the air and wrapping his legs around the zombie's neck. With a sharp twist of his abdomen he flung the officer to the ground, contorting in a graceful forward roll to maximize his momentum.
God, he loved that move so much. Thank you, Selina.
He popped quickly to his feet. Batman was coming towards him, his body language basically screaming get back to the Batmobile NOW.
He nodded and pulled out a grapple, but before he could launch himself off the roof a bullet bit the roof at his feet.
He paused in surprise, jerking back to face the shooter. If they had wanted him dead, he'd be dead. That was a classic warning shot. But who…
Jim Gordon was holding his firearm directly at Robin. The Commissioner groaned loudly in Batman's direction. If Robin hadn't know any better, it looked like Jim was trying to talk to him.
Then, to his shock, one of the groans contorted itself into a familiar word, "Baaaaaaaat…. maaaaaannn."
"Oh my god." Robin exclaimed, turning sharply towards the equally stunned Batman, "I didn't know they could talk!"
Batman took a step forward, hands up in the universal sign of peace, "Jim, are you there? Say something."
The dead eyes flickered towards Robin for a moment, narrowing with what looked like anger, before focusing on the Dark Knight. He moaned, then put away the gun with a jerky movement.
"Baaaaatmaannn…iiiinnnnnfeeectt…." He lurched forward, and both Batman and Robin unconsciously shifted back into fighting stances.
"Iiiiinnnn….feeeeeecttt…Baaaatmaaaaaa… aaaannnd…..Roooooobiiiiinnnn!"
He lunged.
Without a second thought Batman punched him in the face. KO. He then leaned down and snipped off a lock of his hair.
"Go," he said, grabbing the grapple from his belt. Robin quickly obliged.
Once safely enclosed in the Batmobile and speeding towards the Manor, Robin finally let his body relax, and his mind began pondering the implications of the fight. The infected may be mindless, but they weren't dumb. If Commissioner Zombie knew how to fire a gun, and TALK, that changed the ballgame. They might be able to strategize, to plan, and that was extremely dangerous. And what was that about "infecting Batman and Robin?"
"My current hypothesis is that the toxin that physically altered the citizens of Gotham also planted several of Strange's subliminal orders in their minds." Batman interrupted his racing thoughts.
"One of which is to infect us, specifically." Robin stated. It was the theory he too had been pondering.
"We may have underestimated the elegance of this bioweapon. These are not brainless, idiotic zombies from a B-movie. They seem to be somewhat intelligent beings, as well as physically fit and marginally skilled, and under unknown orders from a deranged psychopath."
"They may not be classic zombies, but that's sure what I'm calling them in my head," Robin sighed.
"Better than nothing, I guess," Batman said.
With a flash of adrenalin, Robin's revelation on the rooftop sprung back to mind.
"Batman! We need to call for backup," He urgently sat up straighter in his seat.
A moment of silence passed as Batman's brilliant mind considered every person he or his partner considered acceptable to work with, then crossed off every member of the Justice League that was currently fighting an asteroid, leaving him with…
"You mean the Team," he grunted, considering the variables of pulling in the trained, professional, covert ops team of adolescents he oversaw in the large caverns of Mt. Justice.
"We need help with this one, it's too much even for us."
Robin could tell Batman's pride was hurting, "we've dealt with worse," he grumbled.
At that moment he had to swerve around a cluster of deranged zombies huddling in the middle of the road around an overturned car.
"Debatable," Robin grumbled to himself as he typed on his holographic glove screen.
"But I agree, backup would be… appreciated in this instance," Batman relented.
Relief once again flooded through him, and he didn't waste another second as he began dialing for a video call with the cave.
The whole Team, minus Robin, Rocket (who got to go to space with her mentor) and Zatanna (blindsided by a last-minute project from her school), was gathered at the cave for an "asteroid lock-in." Wally had planned the whole thing, from the three cakes (two were for him) to the movie marathon of all the asteroid must-sees (Armageddon, Deep Impact, etc.) to the betting pool on which Leaguer could destroy the most in an hour. He had been so excited, and when Robin had broken the news that he wasn't going to come, had actually teared up. Of course, Wally understood exactly why Robin couldn't celebrate on that specific day. He was the only person on the team who knew that Robin was actually Dick Grayson, truly the only close friend he had that knew his background, and had accepted that part of him completely. Well, there was Barbara, but that almost didn't count because lately he had started getting those feelings that signified she was becoming something more than a friend… but there was no time to think about that right now...
The call connected, and then Robin was staring at a blank wall. Someone had to have picked up, but there was currently no one standing in front of the receiving screen. But Robin didn't worry, he could hear music playing in the background, and there were thuds and grunts sounding from off camera that no doubt signified a (mostly) playful fight between Wally and his girlfriend, Artemis.
"Hello?" He called out loudly, hoping his voice could be heard over the sound of his teammates having a little too much fun at their lock-in. He briefly felt a stab of regret about his absence, but immediately dismissed it. If he had gone, he'd have been miserable the whole time. His parents had died six years ago, tomorrow (wait, it was after midnight, so today… yeah, six years ago today… oh crap, just push that to the back of your head now is NOT the time to mourn).
Plus, if he'd gone Batman would have had to deal with this disaster without him, and he'd never let his partner face something like this alone.
"Hello?!" He called out again, impatiently. Time was wasting! Connor had to have heard that shout, right?
A familiar blur flew across the screen, and Robin felt a smile creep on his face for an instant. There was that redheaded spaz of his. It would all be okay.
"Wally!" He called out, "Wally there's been a major…"
He trailed off in horror as the blur stopped moving and revealed the face of his best friend. He was wearing a casual button-down shirt, wrinkled of course. His freckled skin was sallow, and his face looked almost emancipated as it stretched across too-prominent cheekbones. His red hair stuck out in all directions, like a nasty case of bedhead, and his green eyes were fogged and glazed with rage. It was an appearance that Robin had become all too familiar with tonight. Clearly, the toxin had somehow reached Mt. Justice.
Robin felt his newfound hope wither and die.
"Oh no… Wally…" He couldn't stop looking at that face, that monstrous, nightmare of a face. Wally was more terrifying than all of the zombified police officers and security guards combined, and fear leapt in his chest.
"Rooooooobbb…...iiiiiiinnnnn," Wally moaned, baring his teeth in a snarl.
"Oh god." Robin cried, looking quickly over at Batman. He was still, but his tight grip on the wheel threatened to tear it from the dashboard. He had heard the moan, he knew the implications.
Mt. Justice was compromised, and they were on their own.
"Turn it off, Robin." He demanded.
Robin moved to comply, but then another undead friend was shoving her face towards the screen.
Artemis. Her usually thick blond hair looked like pale straw. He stared at her in distress, wishing he could do something, anything, to turn them all back now, right this instant.
"I'll fix this, guys, I promise."
He ended the call, leaning back into his seat.
"How the hell did they get infected? Happy Harbor is hours from Gotham!" He moaned.
"It's also airtight and hermetically sealed, just like the Batcave." Batman clenched his hands even tighter on the wheel as Robin's already chilled blood got even colder. If Mt. Justice and the Batcave had the same air systems, and the toxin had gotten through regardless, then that meant waiting back home for them…
The Batmobile passed through the holograph covering one of the entrances to the cave, and the winding tunnel comforted him. They were almost home.
Sitting there, helpless, Robin felt the edges of a deep depression creeping in. Today was the day. It was the day his parents had been stolen from him, along with his childhood. It was the day his friends had been mutated and twisted into monstrous versions of themselves. But no, he couldn't give in to those thoughts. That wasn't the Grayson way. When the times get tough, you better get tougher. That had been an infamous John Grayson quote, usually accompanied by a hair ruffle and a pat on the shoulder, and it definitely applied right now. He couldn't give up, quitting wasn't in his blood. And it wasn't how he'd been trained. The Batman way. He held himself to a higher standard than most, living by a sacred oath spoken in candlelight, and that oath didn't give a shit about whether or not he was "feeling up for it." He had to push on, had to fight for those who couldn't. It was his duty. And so he would, until he couldn't simply anymore.
Of course, all of those deep thoughts barely registered as they flashed through his unconscious mind as quick as the Flash on caffeine and sugar. But a second later he sat up straighter, determination filling his body. Batman and he would fix this. They had to.
A few minutes passed as they curved towards the Batcave, and Robin mentally prepared himself for what he knew they would find. He could tell Batman was doing the same.
The car skidded to a halt, and wordlessly both heroes leaped out and disappeared into the darkness at the edges of the garage. A moan interrupted the usual sounds of the cave, the dripping of water and the rustle of tiny wings way up high.
Robin pulled out a sleeping gas pellet from his belt, ghosting towards the sound, barely touching the floor. He could sense Batman right ahead of him, flanking the moan on the right, so he went left.
He tried not to focus too hard on the limping, groaning man standing by the numerous banks of computer monitors and screens. Robin peaked towards his partner and waited for the signal.
A swish of black cape. Go.
At the same time Batman exploded towards the zombified form of his loyal butler Robin surged forward, popping the capsule in his hand but keeping the gas contained.
Alfred barely had time to snarl before he was grabbed tightly from behind, and a fist full of sleeping gas shoved directly in his face. Milky eyes rolling upward, he collapsed in a boneless heap. Batman caught him before he could hit the hard cave floor, and gently, lovingly, lowered him down. Robin tried not to focus on his wrinkled, corpse-like face.
"Get the isolation bay ready for him." Batman ordered, and Robin complied. The isolation bay had been installed after one too many incidents with Poison Ivy and Scarecrow. Robin made up a bed, tucking in the corners as sharply as he could, just like Alfred had taught him. He checked the food supply, laying a good week's worth of MREs out on the small counter near the cooking stove. It was only as he turned to check the small bathroom in the corner that he realized the futility of his actions. Alfred didn't care whether or not the sheets were military-precision at the moment, and he certainly wasn't going to calmly cook himself a meal on the stove. He was sick, poisoned in body and mind, and probably would have been better off in an empty, padded room. But, Robin decided, it didn't matter. Alfred would have wanted all the perks, so he was getting the perks, dammit. He deserved that much.
As he finished up, Batman carried in the old man bridal style, laying him down on the bed gently. They exited the room together, and then Batman pushed off the cowl and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes were like steel, and determination laced his voice.
"Lock him up, we have a lot of work to do," Bruce said.
A/N: Thanks for sticking around for Chapter 2! The fight scenes were so much fun to write, and I hope I did our boys justice. Don't worry about the brief appearance of Wally, he gets more screentime later on :)
Also, yikes, looks like the duo is cut off from pretty much all help, what will they do next? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!