It was coming. Dude, it was coming. Run. Run for your goddamn life.

Unfortunately, not the kind of phrase you wanted to hear in a more enjoyable setting in the bedroom - no, this was being screamed in your head while you and Bruce tore through the ruins of Gotham City, sprinting side by side as an entity closed in behind you.

It had started with a stupid fight. Just a little scrap over who got the supplies you’d both found - because, of course, even at the end of the world, Bruce had to be difficult. But that scuffle had attracted attention, and not just any attention. One of the many creatures that had overrun the city - hell, the world - had locked onto you both, and now it was gaining.

Even Bruce was running for his damn life, and that was saying something. This idiot rarely ran from a fight, because, well… he was a bit stupid like that. Normally, he stood his ground, fists up, like he was above the concept of fleeing. But even he wasn’t about to test his luck against this.

His lungs burned. Every breath was fire, every muscle in his body screamed at him to stop, but adrenaline surged through his veins, forcing him forward. Survival was the only thing that mattered. He didn’t know how this was going to end - but he’d be damned if it wasn’t on his own terms.