The room had once been a guest suite.
Now it was a holding cell with nice sheets.
Lex Williams didn't particularly care what label they slapped on it. The mattress was soft. The pillows didn't smell like mildew. And for the first time since the outbreak, he wasn't sleeping with one eye open behind a barricade of overturned furniture.
Handcuffed or not, he'd passed out the second his head hit the pillow.
When the faint metallic click of a lock turning reached his ears, his eyes opened instantly.
No grogginess. No confusion.
Fully alert.
His gaze flicked first to the window.
Wire mesh had been bolted over the outside frame. Not decorative—defensive. The kind meant to stop something from flying in.
The infected weren't limited to shambling corpses anymore. There were dogs. Deer. God knew what else.
And the worst of them?
Rats.
Birds.
Small. Fast. Unpredictable.
The mesh meant whoever ran this place understood that.
Outside, night had fallen. The sky was clear—crystal clear. Stars glittered in a way they hadn't in decades. With most of civilization offline, the air had scrubbed itself clean.
Gotham looked almost peaceful under starlight.
Almost.
He'd slept at least seven or eight hours. His mind felt sharp again. Muscles loose. System interface steady.
The door creaked open.
A middle-aged man stepped in, carrying a tray.
Glasses. Tired eyes. Steady posture.
Even without context, Lex would've recognized him.
On the tray: hard bread. Black coffee.
Given the apocalypse? That was practically fine dining.
"I hope I didn't wake you," the man said politely.
Lex sat up, raising his cuffed wrists slightly.
"For a prisoner? Hard to call it an interruption."
He tilted his head.
"Commissioner Gordon, could you pass a message to Catwoman for me?"
The man paused.
"You know who I am?"
Lex snorted softly.
"Former commissioner of the GCPD. Public face of law and order. Closest ally to Batman. It'd be harder not to know you."
James Gordon studied him carefully before setting the tray down on the nightstand.
"Well," Gordon said mildly, "it seems you've done your homework."
He took a seat across from Lex.
"If you feel mistreated, I'll apologize on Selina's behalf."
Lex noticed the name choice.
Selina.
Personal.
"But understand this," Gordon continued. "A man who confronts Two-Face, rescues Catwoman, and then drives straight to Gotham's last safe haven? We don't skip the vetting process."
Lex picked up the coffee, inhaled deeply, and took a slow sip.
Strong.
He bit into the bread without complaint.
"So," he said evenly, "what did your investigation turn up?"
Gordon folded his hands.
"You claim your name is Jack Lee. Actor. Film, television, stage."
"Correct," Lex replied. "And commercials, if the paycheck's right. I'm not picky."
A faint smile tugged at Gordon's mouth.
"Our background checks confirm you exist. Minor roles. Supporting parts. Nothing high profile."
Lex shrugged.
"Character actor. Versatile."
Gordon's eyes sharpened.
"That doesn't explain your shooting ability. Or your combat instincts."
Lex didn't hesitate.
"I play soldiers. Cops. Mercenaries. If you want to portray something convincingly, you train. Hard. Firearms courses. Tactical workshops. Stunt combat."
He leaned back slightly.
"I also know basic medical procedures. A little field surgery. Cooking, too. You'd be surprised what productions require."
Gordon watched him in silence.
"You're telling me everything you know came from preparation for roles?"
"I'm telling you," Lex said calmly, "that without practical skills, I wouldn't be alive."
A beat passed.
Gordon considered that carefully.
Finally, he nodded once.
"I can't find holes in your story."
Lex allowed himself a small shrug.
"If the police commissioner can't, I'll take that as a compliment."
Gordon reached into his pocket, withdrew a key, and unlocked the cuffs.
Metal clicked open.
"You're right about one thing," Gordon said quietly. "The world is worse than it's ever been."
He stood.
"As the leader of this shelter, I welcome survivors."
He paused.
"But everyone earns their place."
Lex rotated his wrists, feeling circulation return.
"What's the test?"
Gordon moved toward the door.
"Surveillance."
They walked through dimly lit corridors of Wayne Manor. Backup generators hummed faintly beneath the floorboards.
"More than half the city's cameras are offline," Gordon explained. "We monitor what we can, but there are blind zones."
"Which means someone has to go outside," Lex said.
"Yes."
They descended the grand staircase into the main hall.
"We need reconnaissance. Supply recovery. Survivor extraction if possible."
Gordon's voice was steady but firm.
"The more people we bring in, the stronger we become."
Lex nodded slowly.
"So I'm exploring the dark."
"That's right."
They entered the main lobby.
Only two people were present.
A blonde girl sat sprawled across a couch, lazily chewing bubble gum. An SR-25 sniper rifle rested comfortably across her lap like it belonged there.
She couldn't have been older than thirteen.
Across from her stood a young man in a police uniform, methodically sharpening a curved Nepalese kukri with a whetstone. The scrape of steel against stone echoed softly.
Lex's eyes flicked to the girl.
SR-25.
Precision platform.
Earlier shot.
So it had been her.
Gordon clapped twice.
"Barbara. John. Meet your teammate for tonight's run."
The girl didn't stand. She blew a bubble, let it pop, and tilted her head.
"New guy, huh?"
Her eyes were sharp. Far too sharp for her age.
Lex looked at Gordon.
"Barbara," he repeated carefully. "As in…"
He looked back at the girl.
"Wouldn't happen to be your daughter, would you?"
The blonde rolled her eyes.
"Wow. You must be a detective."
Barbara Gordon swung her legs off the couch and stood, slinging the sniper rifle over her shoulder with easy familiarity.
"Yeah. I'm his kid."
She extended a hand casually.
"Barbara Gordon. Don't slow me down."
Lex shook it.
Firm grip.
Calloused fingers.
Definitely the sniper.
John stepped forward next.
He offered a nod rather than a handshake.
"John Blake," he said simply.
John Blake
Lex recognized the name from somewhere in the back of his memory.
Good cop. Sharp instincts.
Now sharpening blades in a dead city.
Gordon addressed them all.
"Tonight's objective: Sector Twelve. Camera coverage lost three days ago."
He looked at Lex.
"This is your first test."
Barbara cocked her rifle slightly.
"If he panics, I'm not carrying him."
Lex smiled faintly.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
John slid the kukri into a sheath.
"Gear up," he said.
Lex felt the familiar hum of the system in the back of his mind.
New mission.
Unknown sector.
Armed teammates.
And Wayne Manor at his back.
He flexed his fingers once.
Let's see how Gotham levels tonight.