Teen Titans: Apocalypse

~One~

Animals. Wild, fierce, unpredictable animals. That was what they were to the man. Always shoving microphone after camera in his face. He would almost bark back at them, but becoming an animal was what they wanted. They'd feed off his rage like hungry vaulters swarming a long forgotten carcass. The last thing he wanted to do was give them that satisfaction. No. He would not feed them.

"Mister Wayne!" A voice cut in, louder than the rest. However, he continued walking as if he hand't heard the woman. "Please, sir, how do you feel about it being one of your own?"

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth falling open just a few inches. The question had shocked him. It made everything seem.... real. That was something he had been trying to deny for months. Yet, with this lady-this one reporter asking one question-it made everything a reality. Bruce clenched his jaw and squeezed his fists until his knuckles turned white. "We are doing all that we can; for him and everyone else infected." He hissed flatly, not daring to turn toward the curious woman.

"Mister Wayne-"

"No more questions!" The distressed man growled before stomping up the marble steps to his front door. The shouts continued behind long after he had stepped through the threshold and shut the door.

Bruce stood in the dark entrance hall like a stature. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before beginning to remove his cloud grey scarf from around his sweaty neck and hung it on the coatrack. Lost in thought, he hadn't heard the footsteps until the girl with the lush rainbow locks was tugging on his coat.

"Dad?" Destiny Di'Angelo whispered, observing the man with bright, hopeful leaf green eyes. Bruce stared down at the timid seventeen-year-old for a second before pushing by her. "What is it, Destiny?" He inquired, his tone icy and worn. Destiny bit her lip, hesitating. "I was just... How is he?"

Bruce stopped abruptly in his tracks, his blue eyes widening a little. It didn't feel right lying to Destiny. However, he didn't wish to worry her with the details. The man sighed, but turned and plastered a soft smile on his face.

"He is only in the first stage. Hopefully it was caught early enough. The doctors are hopeful."

Destiny nodded, but didn't fully believe him. She had seen videos of the first stage. It didn't look like something to be hopeful of. Bruce turned away once more and continued toward the kitchen.

The kitchen had once been a lively place in the manor; full of laughter, arguments, and the occasional theft of Alfred Pennyworth's cupcakes. Now a days it was mostly empty and silent. The life had ceased to exist there anymore. The windows had long since been boarded up, sunlight barely shinning through the minuscule crevasses in the wood. Bruce gazed sadly around, longing for the sounds of life once more.

Destiny watched the sunken man before her. He looked so much older now. His eyes were bloodshot and baggy. His hair wild and unkempt. His face unshaven and sweaty. He looked frail and broken; as if he would fall with just one, gentle push. She wondered if she looked the same way; exhausted and stressed. Her stomach had wound itself into what seemed like a permanent knot that just didn't want to leave. The fear was what was killing her.

"Hey, Bruce." A voice announced from behind Destiny. Bruce turned his attention to the young teen making his way into the kitchen with a smile pulling at his olive cheeks.

Jason Todd walked right up to Bruce and wrapped his arms around the man's middle in a hug. Bruce was silent for a moment, gazing sorrowfully down at the head of dark hair beneath him before returning the warm gesture. Pleased, Jason tightened his grip.

"Alright, Jason, don't kill him." Destiny smirked from the doorway, crossing her arms. Jason chuckled and pulled back. "Sorry, Bruce." He apologized.
Bruce couldn't help but smile at the two.
"Say," Jason began, "how's-" but a sudden crash from the next room interrupted the teen. Destiny gasped in surprise, suddenly being shoved aside by a wide-eyed Bruce, who plowed out of the room like a train.

His heart raced, pounding against his chest. His stomach flew to his throat. "Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again." He mumbled repeatedly to himself as he raced down the hall. Bruce turned right and stumbled into the living room in time to see Olivia Rey dart behind the couch. A tea set lay shattered like a pieces of broken window all over the floor.

"What happened?!" Bruce demanded hysterically. The wide-eyed teen darted down completely. The silence of the room was broken by a woman on the TV, standing in the middle of a street lined with blue bags. Bruce knew right away what was in those bags. His blood ran cold as he listened to the trembling reporter.

"As you can see there was yet another attack; leaving at least five hospitalized, as police had arrived too late. Downtown Gotham is now under lockdown. Nobody is permitted to enter, or leave."

Olivia peeked her head up, looking toward the pale, heavily breathing Bruce guiltily. "It startled me." She admitted, nodding toward the television. "I saw one of them."

Bruce's expression softened. He approached the girl slowly and pulled her into his body in a loving hug. "It's getting worse." She shook, burying her face in his black coat. "More and more people."

"Shh, Olivia," Bruce whispered, rocking the girl like a father would a child. "We're safe here. We're-"

"Lloyd wasn't safe!" The girl snapped, pulling away.

Bruce stared at her in open-mouthed silence, shocked at Olivia's sudden outburst.

"He was here. And he wasn't safe. None of us are."

Although he didn't admit it for her sake, deep down he knew she was right.