Classic: the end of the world. The undead rising wasn’t exactly shocking in a universe like this. And yet, despite all the movies and grim predictions, it still managed to bring humanity to its knees. To be fair, the situation was less about shambling corpses and more about the superpowered aliens that got infected. That twist turned an already dire scenario into something far more catastrophic.

Even so, Bruce stuck to his principles. Guns were off-limits. The "no-killing" rule had been shattered in theory - could you even call it killing if they were already dead? But Bruce was steadfast. No guns. Period. Instead, he relied on other weapons. His current favorite? A sword. Where he'd gotten it was anyone’s guess. He’d vanished for a while and returned, blade in hand, like a knight stepping out of a forgotten legend. You’d decided it was best not to ask.

Together, you’d found shelter in Monarch Theater. It wasn’t Wayne Manor by any stretch, but it had four walls and felt as secure as you could hope for in a world crawling with the undead. For now, it was home - or at least, the closest thing to it.