#Jason’s death is the change of the ‘war’ landscape: no longer is it ordinary men against men

[shewhowillrise]

“Are you sure I shouldn’t be armored?” Bruce asked as he watch Zatanna set up his bedroom for the Death Walk. Dream like state to walk between worlds into the infinite.

“War chose Bruce, not Batman,” she stated, dropping a pillow on the floor at the foot of the bed. And another one on the bed, “now lay down.”

Bruce hesitated.

“Watch,” Bruce looked up where Cass had spoken from her perch on his dresser, “safe.”

“I’ll be standing guard too,” Damian said behind him at the door. Damian’s been…off since contacting his mother. It seems the pits have all been dried up.

With the knowledge he and Zatanna would be protected, he laid down. He felt Zatanna’s breath in his hair.

“Relax and clear your mind,” she said, moving each hand about an inch away from each of his ears.

A deep breath and he closed his eyes. More he unclenched his body, the more the world fell away.

His hand twitched but instead of the assumed soft comforter beneath him, he felt dry leaves. He opened his eyes to a grey sky. Sitting up, he took in the environment around him. Everything seemed grey, the trees to his right, and the building to his left. The building looked like the roof had exploded, and thick grey clouds billowed from within. But it was the chain link fence that surrounded it that got his attention. A dark yellow sign in Ukrainian.

Radiation Zone. Do not enter.

A memory from a long time ago of old broadcasts came to the forefront of his mind.

“Chernobyl?” He asked to no one. A truck’s honk behind him answered.

Turning, he saw a pale blue truck, at almost looked bubbly, with a tall metal truck bed. The passenger door swung open. A girl sat inside at the wheel.

“Hey traveler,” she patted the bench cushion beside her, “let’s get ya somewhere less…toxic,” she giggled to herself like she made some inside joke.

Bruce took one more look around and decided that probably this was the best he was gonna get. Hopping up, he noticed a few things at first glance. A novel sat on the bench next to her, a gas mask sat at the floor, and she had a burn scar on the left side of her face, that went into the hairline and stopped right before her chin.

“Not many chosens visit before first death,” she held out her hand, “Natalia,” she introduced herself.

He clasped her hand, “Bruce.”

“I’m guessing your here for your chosen horseman. Unfortunately I can’t take you all the way, but I can at least get you to the next one.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said, buckling, “may I ask which one you are? I don’t see how,” he gestured to the world around them, “plus horsemen have been around long before this particular event.”

She smirked at him as she put the truck into gear and started down the road away from the plant.

“Ah, yes, well, horsemen are chosen in accordance with the times of the alive world. As trends and technology and reasons for death and destruction change, we change as well. We were all once human. And our deaths signified a change in the world.”

Bruce hummed. It made sense. Life changed, death changed, so the afterlife would change too.

“I am the one people call pestilence.”

“Pestilence? What does that have to do with…”

“Ah yes, see, pestilence doesn’t have to be an illness of the body. It’s whatever can be considered a disease. Pollution, insects, animals, humans. If it can infect, it is a disease, and if it’s a disease, then it is me.”

“So it was the pollution of Chernobyl that created you?”

“Partially,” she states, “but it was also the corruption of higher ups, the infestation of incompetence, and the disease of greed. My death was the result of different infections that culminated together. Chernobyl was a turning point for the USSR. Thus, I became Pestilence.”

“What about the other three?”

“Oh, that is not my story too tell. While we four that are the only one’s comfortable talking about our death’s, it is still inconsiderate to talk about others.”

Bruce hummed and relaxed into the seat.

“Unless you have other questions, it’s a long drive, so if you wanna read,” she handed him the book she had sitting next to her.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

Bruce smiled slightly. He remembered when the book first came out how much Jason complained about it. Opening it up there was an inscription on the first page.

Because you’ll only read things with zombies.

—J

He was halfway through chapter three when the truck stopped.

“This is as far as I take you,” Natalia said. Bruce looked up. It was surreal. The grey forest abruptly ended to a beach, that was surrounded by building rumble. He could see far off into the distance a small tent.

“Where is this?”

“West Bank,” she says, a sad note in her voice.

Bruce thought about what she said earlier, how the name of the horseman doesn’t have to be literal.

“Famine,” he stated as he got out the truck.

The walk to the tent was long. It felt as if it kept moving away with every step he took. After was felt like an eternity, with his mouth dry and knees weak, did he finally reach it.

Almost as if sensing him, someone opened the flap and walked out. A little girl came out, scars littering her body.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Dalia. And you?”

“Bruce,” he says, kneeling down to eye level. It hurts knowing what she has been through. He wants so badly to take her in his arms and care for her. But he can’t, and it makes him angry that now her parents can’t love her and cherish her either.

“I am sorry, I do not have food to share, but maybe I can still help you?”

“I’m looking for the next horseman’s…haunt,” he states unsurely. That is what Zatanna called it, “Natalia dropped me off here.”

Dalia hummed, and grabbed his hand, “I can lead you.”

Bruce stood up and let the little girl guid him, thank you.”

“You are a chosen aren’t you?” She asked.

“I think so,” he answered, “yet I do not know what that means.”

“The others say it’s the one that keeps up to the alive realm. Like a tether. Something to keep us human. Other beings like us get angry, emotional, forget their lives. We must remember, so we do not raze the earth,” she looked around, “but it seems it is not us that should be reminded of that.”

Bruce squeezed her hand, hoping to give even a tiny comfort to the little girl.

A cloud of fog practically materializes in front of them.

“This is it,” Dalia says, “through that fog is War.” She let go of his hand. He turned to say goodbye, but she was gone. His heart broken a little more.

Turning back to the fog, he took a deep breath and walked in.

When it cleared, his breath left his lungs. He was standing in the alleyway. The alleyway near the movie theater. The alleyway that he only ever came to once a year. The alleyway that created Batman.

DC x DP Prompt

The Horseman War was angered. Someone took his Death. He could not find him in the realm beyond, could not feel their bond thrum in his core. Every island, every small community, big fortress, and lone travelers were searched, interrogated, no grave left unchecked.

There was only one place left, one place War swore to never return to, but to find his Death, he must.

It was terrifying waking up in the box, feeling the rush of air in his lungs again after what felt like a lifetime. The wetness of his blood on his fingertips gave an unsettling feeling of nostalgia for days among rooftops.

Jason Todd climbed out of his grave, angry, and nothing would stop him from finding Danny Fenton.

[kizzer55555]

Hey, you ever seen the Webtoon Hooves of Death? Well in that, there are four horsemen of the apocalypse and then death disapeared. Because of that, he didn’t do his job and people stopped dying…..kind of.

Well they died, but they didn’t say dead. And this is how the zombie apocalypse started. So…it would be such a shame if something similar happened in DC.

DC x DP Prompt

The Horseman War was angered. Someone took his Death. He could not find him in the realm beyond, could not feel their bond thrum in his core. Every island, every small community, big fortress, and lone travelers were searched, interrogated, no grave left unchecked.

There was only one place left, one place War swore to never return to, but to find his Death, he must.

It was terrifying waking up in the box, feeling the rush of air in his lungs again after what felt like a lifetime. The wetness of his blood on his fingertips gave an unsettling feeling of nostalgia for days among rooftops.

Jason Todd climbed out of his grave, angry, and nothing would stop him from finding Danny Fenton.