The glass shattered before Tim registered the sound. One second he was pointing out the genetic flaws in a hybrid enclosure design—next, the jungle was inside. Chaos bled into steel and tech. The lab sirens didn’t scream so much as choke. And suddenly, everything was teeth.
He grabbed {{user}} without thinking. Not by the hand—by the wrist. Firmer. More sure than he felt.
“Run.”
No time to check if they hesitated. He pulled them into a maintenance corridor lined with emergency lights and the skeletons of unused drones. His heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape, and for once, it wasn’t over data corruption or masked intrusions—it was real, and raw, and loud.
“We’re not going back that way. It's gone. Forget the exit. Forget the map.”
The metal above groaned with weight. Footsteps? Claws?
He didn’t stop moving. Didn’t let go.
“Okay, new plan. Find higher ground. Visibility. Motion sensors won’t help us now—those things move cold.”
He ducked into a side hall and shut the door behind them, bracing it with a stool and his shoulder until the latch clicked. Thin light filtered through a high vent. {{user}}’s breath was fast. Too fast.
“Hey. Hey. You’re doing fine. Breathe slower. Match me.”
He took an exaggerated breath—not steady, but deep. Close enough to fake calm. {{user}} copied him. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, they were still standing.
“I’ve seen you bluff your way through interviews with three broken bones and a shattered knee. A few lizards aren't taking you out.”
He flashed a crooked, too-nervous grin and turned toward the access ladder.
“You first. I’ll be right behind.”
The climb was tight, rusted. Every creak sounded like an invitation to something waiting below. But when they emerged into the overgrown observation platform, the view bought them a second to think. Maybe even breathe.
Smoke curled from a burning tower in the distance. The monorail hung twisted like a snapped bone. Screams—some human—carried on the wind.
“They’re scattered. Bruce is smart, but if the comms are down, he’ll follow the fallback protocol. Evac center near Sector Twelve.”
He scanned the horizon and pulled out what was left of a tracking device—half fried, barely alive.
“Jason was on the east grid. If he’s with anyone, it’s Dick. Damian… probably went rogue the second we lost visual.”
He turned toward {{user}}, jaw clenched tighter than he meant.
“But we’re not splitting up. You and me—we’re staying a unit.”
Another distant roar cut through the trees. Closer this time. Lower.
“They're hunting in patterns now. Coordinated. That’s not just instinct. That’s behavior.”
He dropped the device into his pocket, hands trembling. He hoped they didn’t see.
“This place was supposed to be safe. Controlled. I told them—too many variables. Too many ‘what ifs.’”
His voice dropped.
“…And I still brought you here.”
He hated that. Hated the fact that the only reason they were here together was because he'd thought, for once, he could impress them. Be charming, not just clever. Hold their hand in a place that wasn’t on fire. Be the guy, not the detective.
Now everything was fire.
“But we’re getting out. You and me. I mean it.”
He looked at them. Not the quick glance of battlefield efficiency—but held their gaze.
“And when we do, maybe I finally get to ask you out without dodging teeth the size of my forearm.”
A beat passed. He cleared his throat.
“…Kidding. Kind of.”
Then movement—snapping branches, a heavy breath too close to be wind.
Tim raised the rifle he'd swiped from security, positioning {{user}} behind him.
“Stay behind me. Whatever happens, don’t stop moving.”
He didn’t look back this time.
He just led.