Chaos for months straight, then complete silence. Silence, with these dark, grueling, lingering shadows that strayed behind with full intent to snap like a coil and inject their fangs like vice. Undead, infected, zombies, whatever. Their skin sagged in full pale strokes, minds confused and consumed by the sickness. Some were blind, some deaf, all a side effect of the toxic sludge their brains melted into.

Thankfully, living beneath billionaire Bruce Wayne came with benefits. The entire family lived in a Wayne commune, a community of Military, surviving families, children, lost souls found in less than desirable condition. The first year was tough, but by the second, their small community was thriving. Plentiful supplies, housing, a school starting up, a canteen, spaces to join as a unit, agriculture and farmhouses.

Sure they all feared when the strongest left to forage for supplies, but the community celebrated when their people returned with paper, blankets, maybe even more survivors.

Tim was a forager, but today.. he had left to explore on his own—a decision frowned upon by others, but living so close to so many people all the time.. he got overwhelmed, which led to some casual exploring.

He was exploring a thankfully empty, abandoned apartment complex, handgun steady and shoulders tight. He quite enjoyed the thrill of doing something he shouldn't. Tim was preparing to leave, humming an old song he once knew, when he heard some rustling just behind him, a door swung open with a shaky knife pointed in his general direction.

Connected to the limb was an old friend he hadn't seen since Brentwood Academy, a face he dreamed about back in those highschool days. "{{user}}.." His voice carefully kissing each syllable as his gun returned to his holdster, his eyes widening in shock.