Catwoman followed Lex Williams' gaze toward the looming structure of Arkham Asylum. Even in daylight the place looked wrong—windows shattered, iron gates twisted, dark stains trailing down the stone like old tears. The wind carried a faint, sour odor that didn't belong to rot alone. There was something else in it… something cold and unnatural.
"You're sure?" she asked quietly.
Lex nodded. "I can feel it. Whatever killed John Black isn't like the others."
He stepped forward, the Black Dragon armor unfolding over him in segments, plates sliding into place with soft mechanical clicks. The tentacle-like actuators flexed once behind his back, ready.
"Stay alert," he said. "If anything comes out, get Barbara to safety first."
Catwoman rolled her eyes slightly. "I know how to handle myself."
"I know," Lex replied. "But she's still a kid."
That softened her expression just a little.
Lex turned and moved toward the broken entrance.
—
Inside, Arkham was silent.
Not the restless silence of a building filled with zombies, but a heavy, suffocating stillness. Dust hung in the air. Papers lay scattered across the floor as if abandoned in a hurry months ago. Somewhere far down the corridor, metal scraped faintly against concrete… then stopped.
Lex moved slowly, scanning with the mech's sensors. Thermal readings were erratic—cold pockets where nothing should be, sudden flickers of heat that vanished before he could lock onto them.
"Strange," he murmured.
The corridor opened into a larger hall. Rusted wheelchairs lay overturned. Restraint straps hung loose from a gurney. The walls were clawed and gouged, but not in the chaotic way zombies usually left behind. These marks were deliberate… controlled.
A faint whisper echoed behind him.
Lex turned instantly.
Nothing.
The sensors registered a disturbance for less than half a second—then it was gone.
"So you can hide," he said softly. "That confirms it."
He continued deeper.
The deeper he went, the colder the air became. Frost crept across the floor in thin, branching patterns. His breath fogged inside the helmet.
Magic, he thought.
That explained Bruce's observation. This wasn't just a zombie. This was someone who had possessed power before turning… and still retained fragments of it.
A door ahead stood slightly ajar. Inside was what had once been a therapy room. A chair lay overturned in the center, restraints snapped. Symbols were scratched into the walls—jagged, uneven circles and lines, drawn with something dark.
Lex stepped inside.
The temperature dropped another few degrees.
Then he heard it clearly.
Breathing.
Not the ragged wheeze of a zombie… but slow, steady inhalations, as if someone were calmly waiting.
"Come out," Lex said. "I know you're here."
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the shadows in the far corner shifted.
A figure stepped forward.
It had once been a man in a long coat, now torn and stained. His skin was gray, veins darkened like ink beneath the surface. His eyes glowed faintly—not with hunger, but with a cold, lucid awareness.
A zombie… but not mindless.
"So," the figure rasped, voice dry as paper. "Another one comes to hunt."
Lex studied him carefully. "You remember who you are."
"Fragments," the man said. "Names… faces… pain."
His head tilted slightly. "You are strong. I can feel it."
Lex didn't answer.
"You seek the one who died outside," the figure continued. "The policeman."
"Did you kill him?" Lex asked.
A faint smile cracked the corpse-pale lips.
"Yes."
The word echoed softly in the room.
"Why?" Lex asked.
The figure's eyes flickered. "Hunger… and instinct. But also… curiosity."
He lifted one hand. The air shimmered faintly, distorting like heat over asphalt.
"He saw me," the zombie said. "He was afraid… but he did not run. I wondered how far a man could be pushed before breaking."
Lex's expression hardened.
"So you shot him," he said flatly.
"Yes."
The answer came without hesitation.
Anger stirred in Lex's chest—not the reckless kind, but a cold, focused resolve.
"You retained your magic," he said.
"Not all," the zombie replied. "Only echoes. Enough… to play."
The air suddenly twisted.
An invisible force slammed toward Lex, smashing into the Black Dragon armor and driving him back a step. The floor cracked beneath his boots.
Telekinesis, Lex realized instantly.
The zombie moved faster than expected, lunging forward with unnatural speed, fingers clawed. Lex's mechanical tentacles snapped out, intercepting the strike and hurling the creature across the room.
It hit the wall, bones cracking… and immediately began to rise again.
Regeneration. Not as strong as the Hulk's, but significant.
The zombie laughed softly, a dry, broken sound.
"Yes… fight," it whispered.
Lex didn't waste time. He fired a burst from a wrist-mounted launcher. The explosion engulfed the creature in flame, blasting it through the far wall into the corridor.
Before it could recover, Lex moved.
He crossed the distance in an instant, seized the zombie by the throat, and slammed it into the floor hard enough to crater the concrete.
The creature struggled, telekinetic force lashing wildly, cracking walls and shattering glass. One invisible strike dented the armor's chest plate.
But Lex tightened his grip.
"Your magic," he said quietly, "isn't strong enough."
The zombie's glowing eyes flickered with something like fear.
With one sharp motion, Lex twisted.
The neck snapped.
He didn't release it immediately. Instead, he drew an antitoxin grenade from his belt, triggered it, and let the white mist engulf the corpse.
Seconds passed.
Then the familiar bubbles began to drift upward, dissolving into Lex like faint motes of light.
"Minor Telekinetic Control."
"Residual Arcane Sensitivity."
Lex exhaled slowly.
Not powerful abilities—but useful.
He stood and looked down at the body.
John Black hadn't stood a chance.
—
Outside, Barbara was pacing beside the Batmobile when the doors of Arkham creaked open.
Lex stepped out.
"Well?" she asked immediately.
He looked at her for a moment, then said quietly, "I found the one responsible."
"Was it… bad?" she asked.
"Yes."
Barbara swallowed but nodded, determination returning to her face.
Catwoman studied Lex carefully. "And?"
"It's handled," he said.
The wind stirred across the empty grounds of Arkham Asylum as the three of them stood there, the silence now feeling just a little less oppressive than before.
....
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