The Batcave - One Day Later
The cleanup was nearly complete. The shattered glass of the trophy cases had been swept away. The Batcomputer was rebooting. The Azrael suit—that metal abomination—had been dismantled and thrown into the scrap furnace.
Bruce sat in the command chair. He looked tired, but it was a good tired. The tiredness of a job done.
Tim Drake was running diagnostics. Dick Grayson was sparring with Conner Kent on the mats.
"It feels good to be back," Dick said, dodging a playful punch from the Super-clone. "The band is back together."
"Don't get comfortable," Bruce said, though a small smile touched his lips. "Jean-Paul did a lot of damage to our reputation. We have to rebuild trust with Gordon. With the city."
I walked down the stairs with a tray of cucumber sandwiches.
"The city is resilient, Sir," I said. "It has survived plagues, fires, and clowns. It will survive a change in management."
I placed the tray down.
Suddenly, I paused.
My hand hovered over the teapot. The silver began to vibrate.
"Sebastian?" Bruce noticed my stillness instantly. "What is it?"
"Do you hear that, Sir?" I whispered.
"Hear what?"
"The screaming."
I looked down at the bedrock of the cave floor. To human senses, it was silent. To a demon, deeply attuned to the vibrations of the underworld, it sounded like a leviathan waking up.
"The tectonic plates," I said, my eyes widening. "They are... snapping."
The Quake
It didn't start with a rumble. It started with a bang.
The entire floor of the Batcave heaved upward three feet, knocking everyone off their feet.
CRACK.
A fissure opened in the ceiling. A stalactite the size of a bus detached and plummeted down, smashing onto the Batmobile, crushing it instantly.
"MOVE!" Bruce roared.
The shaking didn't stop. It intensified. This wasn't a tremor. This was a 7.6 magnitude earthquake.
The Batcomputer monitors exploded in a shower of sparks. The walkways twisted and sheared metal screaming like a dying animal.
"The Manor!" Tim yelled, grabbing the console for support. "The foundation!"
Above us, we heard the terrifying sound of Wayne Manor—a house that had stood for a hundred years—groaning. The bricks were tearing apart.
"Conner!" Bruce shouted over the roar of the earth. "Hold the ceiling!"
Conner Kent flew up. He braced his hands against the collapsing rock roof of the cave. He strained, his face turning red.
"It's... too heavy!" Conner gritted his teeth. "The whole house is coming down!"
"Everyone to the bunker!" Bruce commanded. "Go! Now!"
We scrambled. The floor was rolling like the ocean. I grabbed Tim as a fissure opened beneath him, throwing him toward the blast doors.
Dick vaulted over a pile of rubble. "Bruce! Come on!"
Bruce was at the console. He was trying to grab the hard drive—the backup of all the files.
"Leave it!" I screamed, abandoning decorum. "Sir! Move!"
A massive chunk of granite fell directly over Bruce.
Conner abandoned the roof to tackle Bruce, shielding him with his invulnerable body just as the rock slammed down.
CRASH.
The lights went out.
The City
Outside, Gotham was dying.
Skyscrapers swayed like grass in the wind. Glass rained down in deadly sheets.
The Gotham Bridge—the main artery to the mainland—buckled. Cables snapped, whipping through the air like lashes. Cars slid off the edge, falling into the churning river below.
In Blackgate Prison, the walls crumbled. Prisoners poured out into the chaos.
In Arkham Asylum, the cells popped open.
In the Narrows, the tenements collapsed like houses of cards, burying thousands in the dust.
It lasted for forty-five seconds. It felt like forty-five years.
Then, the stillness returned.
The Aftermath - The Batcave
The emergency red lights flickered on. The air was thick with dust.
"Sound off!" Dick's voice coughed from the darkness.
"I'm here," Tim said. "Leg's stuck, but I'm okay."
"I gotcha," Conner's voice. He lifted the rock off Bruce.
Bruce stood up, dusting himself off. He looked around.
The Batcave was gone. It was a ruin of rock and twisted steel. The giant penny was buried. The dinosaur was headless. The exit ramp was blocked by tons of debris.
"The exit is sealed," Bruce said, checking his tactical wrist-comp. "We're trapped."
"Not for long," Conner said. He flew to the blockage and started punching. Thud. Thud. "It's thick. It's going to take me a while to tunnel out."
"Dig," Bruce ordered.
The Surface - One Hour Later
We emerged into the twilight.
It looked like the surface of the moon.
Wayne Manor was split in half. The East Wing had collapsed entirely into the sunken gardens. The West Wing was a skeleton of wood and brick.
But looking toward the city skyline... that was the true horror.
Smoke columns rose from every district. The power grid was dead. The bridges were severed.
"My god," Dick whispered. "It's all gone."
Bruce walked to the edge of the cliff. He looked at his city. It wasn't a city anymore. It was a graveyard.
"The government will send aid," Tim said hopefully. "The National Guard. FEMA."
"No," Bruce said. He pointed to the horizon.
Helicopters were circling the perimeter of the river. But they weren't dropping supplies. They were mining the water.
"They're not sending help," Bruce realized, his voice cold. "They're containing it."
"Containing what?" Conner asked.
"Us," Bruce said. "The criminals are loose. The infrastructure is gone. They've decided Gotham is a lost cause."
I stepped up beside him. My tailcoat was torn, my white gloves stained with soot.
"It appears, Sir," I said, dusting off my lapel, "that we have been evicted from the United States."
Bruce tightened his cowl.
"No Man's Land," Bruce whispered.
He turned to us.
"We need to secure the Manor. We need food, water, and fuel. Then... we go into the city."
"To save it?" Dick asked.
"To conquer it," Bruce corrected. "Before the Joker does."
He looked at the burning ruins.
"The rules of law are gone. Now, the only rule is survival."
I looked at the destroyed manor behind me. Then at the hellscape ahead.
"I shall prepare the survival kits, Sir," I said, my eyes glowing in the dusk. "And perhaps... sharpen the silverware. I suspect we will have guests who do not have reservations."
The dark age of Gotham had begun.
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