Pandora Dark

Official Tumblr of the upcoming Pandora Dark book series. The story here is not in the book. This follows a character through the start of the apocalypse onward. You can find my backups on Minds-PandoraDark and Bluesky- pandoradark.bsky.social Disclaimer: this blog is all short stories. There is no spam and no advertisements for products of any sort.

[pandoradarkofficial]

Penquin is in Season

The cave was silent, save for the rhythmic, agonizing drip of water against stone and the ragged, shallow breathing of the man in the chair. Bruce hadn’t moved since Alfred had cut him down three hours ago. He sat in the dark, still wearing the shredded remains of the Batsuit, his eyes fixed on the empty floor where Dick’s body had been before the coroner arrived.

The phone rang. Not the house phone. Not the Bat phone. The burner.

"I missed your call, but how did you even get this number?" The voice on the other end was high-pitched, momentarily offended. "I change it every Tuesday, Bruce! It’s part of the mystery!"

"Jack," Bruce whispered, his voice cracking like dry parchment. "Come to the cave. Please. Just... end it."

The silence on the other end lasted a full minute. The manic energy vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. "I’m on my way."

Bruce didn't give directions. He didn't have to. Twenty minutes later, the screech of tires echoed through the rock tunnels. Jack stepped out of a purple sedan, purple suit immaculate, though his face was uncharacteristically grim. He walked past the high-tech security grids as if they were weren’t even there.

He didn't marvel at the trophies. He didn't mock the costume. He walked straight to the chair where Bruce sat, broken and hollow.

"Three days, Bruce?" Jack asked softly, standing over him. "Alfred told me at the door. Oswald... he really did it, didn't he? He used the boy’s heart against him."

"Dick wouldn't pull the trigger," Bruce choked out. "He died because he followed my rule. He died because of me, Jack.

Jack sat on the floor, cross-legged, leaning his head against Bruce’s knee. He didn't offer a hug; he wasn't built for that. Instead, he looked up with a small, crooked smile.

"You know, Bruce... I heard a rumor that Oswald tried to start a fitness club recently. He called it 'The Waddlers.' It failed within a week." Jack paused, waiting. "When they asked him why, he said he couldn't find any members who were willing to 'wing it' on the treadmill."

Bruce let out a dry, pained sob that might have been a laugh in another life.

"And did you hear about his last heist?" Jack continued, his tone light but his eyes burning. "He tried to rob a bakery. He wanted the 'dough,' but he got stuck in the 'fluff.' They found him three hours later, covered in sprinkles cause he was too fat to pull himself out of the vat."

Bruce closed his eyes, the absurdity of the images cutting through the crushing weight of the grief for just a second. "He’s a monster, Jack."

"He’s a bird who thinks he’s a king," Jack corrected, standing up and dusting off his trousers. "And he forgot who owns the sky."

Jack turned toward the exit. He looked back over his shoulder, the playful light in his eyes replaced by something ancient and predatory.

"Get some sleep, Bruce. You look like hell, and honestly, it’s ruining the aesthetic of the cave."

"Where are you going?" Bruce asked, his voice regaining a sliver of its strength.

"I’m taking my people, and I’m going on a hunt," Jack said, his grip tightening on his cane. "No one breaks my Bat without getting beat by another one. This one’s on me, Batsy. Consider it a professional courtesy."

He stepped into the car, the engine roaring to life.

"Penguin is in season," Jack shouted over the engine.

Bruce knew what was going to happen to Oswald. He knew he would never see him again. For a second he wished he could be there for it. But the thought slipped away. That wasn't him. Then he looked at the spot on the floor. He thought of Batgirl. Cyborg. Wonder Woman. Maybe what Gotham needed was a cleansing. It needed a different kind of Bat now.

[projectspaceanomaly]

ANNOUNCING PROJECT SPACE ANOMALY

Project: Space Anomaly is a nonprofit fan project inspired by the likes of Danganronpa, Zero Escape & Your Turn To Die.

Project: Space Anomaly intends to play like & appear like as close to the main Danganronpa series as possible! It will be fully playable utilizing the Unity Engine!

Round 1 of Casting is live!!!

We're currently looking for a variety of staff as we move our project into the next stage of development. If you're interested in being a part of our journey. Please check out our Casting Call!

If you're an artist, writer, programmer, musician, voice actor or just a fan of games like Danganronpa. Check us out and think about applying/auditioning. Keep an eye out for more Space Anomaly in the future. Thank you!

--------------------------------------------------

Follow Ichigo Iwasaki, the Ultimate Paranormal Investigator as he contends with deadly trials, horrifying traps & complex escape rooms brought about by a sadistic UFO! Trapped alongside 20 other ultimates onboard the Iuppiter Space Station, Ichigo struggles to survive. Help guide him through each trial and unravel the mysteries hidden deep within this science fiction murder mystery visual novel.

21 ULTIMATES - 7 CHAPTERS - FULLY PLAYABLE UNITY ENGINE GAME - AND MUCH MORE

Check out the Casting Call Here!

[pandoradarkofficial]

Day 5: Groton Horde Part I

The naval base had been fairly quiet for two days, too quiet. The installation had felt like a ghost town. But tonight, the silence shattered like glass.

It started as a distant murmur, a low hum of moans and shuffling feet. Then, like a tidal wave, they came, thousands of them pouring in from the city, their eyes locked onto the base.

I heard them from my yacht docked at the rear of the base, then the crackle of a frantic call over the radio: "All personnel to the walls! Immediate engagement!" I ran from my room across the yatch and hopped off the boat. Following a soldier across the tarmac, then through the maze of barricades, I reached the wall where he’d been summoned. What I saw made my blood run cold. The undead pressed forward in a writhing mass. They clawed and bit at anything in their path: metal, concrete, even the rusting cars that had been stacked end to end to reinforce the barriers.

The soldiers around me sprang into action, taking up positions on the scaffolding. Rifles cracked in rapid succession, each shot finding its mark, but for every corpse that dropped, another took its place. The horde never slowed, never hesitated. It was like they didn’t even register the others falling among them.

Beside me, a soldier suddenly turned, his eyes locking onto mine. "Make yourself useful and get that truck!" he barked, pointing to a black F-350 parked about thirty yards away. "Tell anyone in ASP, the big brown warehouse, that we need a LogPac for M27s and 17s, and we need it NOW!"

I didn’t even remember climbing onto the wall, but now my legs felt like lead. I froze.

"Go, motherfucker!" he roared, shoving me toward the edge. "M27 and 17 LogPac!"

I hit the ground running, my loafers hammering the pavement as I sprinted toward the truck. My heart pounded harder than the rifles firing behind me. I reached the door and yanked it open. No key.

Shit. No key. "Fuckin big ass diesel piece of shit. How do i start these things again?"

Before i could remember how to start it, another soldier appeared, vaulting up beside me. He grabbed the doorframe, his presence jolting me. He almost got clocked out. "Flip these," he instructed, rattling off a sequence of switches on the console. The engine roared to life, and he jumped down.

I didn’t wait for further instruction. Slamming the truck into gear, I gunned it toward the warehouse, the undead horde swelling in the rearview mirror.

#pandoradarkseries

[pandoradarkofficial]

Night 4: The Yatch

The station yacht is always a sight to behold. I could never afford something like it, but I’ve spent plenty of time aboard, and that’s what matters. A fully stocked bar with more reserves below deck, soda on tap, a full kitchen loaded with enough food to fuel weeks of parties. It’s a dream. And now its ours. And the best part? She damn near sails herself with the GPS. Several of us at the station earned our captain’s licenses, courtesy of the owners, and today, that’s turning out to be a lifesaver.

Jade and I started second-guessing our plan to return to the naval base. On weekends, we run a late-night radio station from a beach house we own. Technically, it's on a small man-made island just off the coast, and right now, that isolated little slice of paradise seems like the safest place to be. Surrounded by water, only way on it by boat or helicopter. It could be defensible. I can tell that’s where Jade wants to go. I don’t blame her.

But I can’t shake the feeling that our best bet is still with the military. The base is packed with trained personnel, supplies, and enough firepower to level a city. If there’s any hope of stability, of rebuilding something, it’ll start there. On the boat, we have four harpoons and a 9mm Ruger LC9s. Not exactly an arsenal. My real guns are back home, but that’s useless to us now, and even if we had them, my ammo stock wasn’t great to begin with. A few thousand rounds of 9mm I stock for my competitive shooting and a few hundred 7.62x51 and .308 for hunting and distance events. I have a few hundred 12 Guage as well but if we are resorting to that then we won't be around long enough to car.

GNB is still our best shot. I’ll tell Jade that’s the plan. I’m the one that can sail it, after all. If the base turns out to be just as dangerous as everywhere else, we can always set sail and head home. But deep down, I wonder how long before there’s nowhere left to run?

#pandoradark

[pandoradarkofficial]

Day 3: Chopter Ride

As the helicopter soared over the city, a heavy mix of awe and dread settled in my chest. Below us, the once thriving metropolis lay in ruins, buildings reduced to skeletal remains, streets choked with debris and lifeless bodies. The undead ran aimlessly, their hollow eyes reflecting nothing but hunger. They swarmed around abandoned cars.

Our trip to the shore had been delayed for a few days, the sheer force of the undead that night nearly overwhelming us. I pressed my forehead against the window, watching as the streets writhed with movement. The sheer number of them was staggering. How many had fallen to this nightmare? And how many were still alive down there, trapped in the bombed ruins, clinging to whatever scraps of hope that remained?

The pilot’s voice crackled through the intercom, snapping me from my thoughts. “We’re coming up on the downtown area,” he said, his tone laced with tension. “Hold on tight. It's gonna get rough with all the fires.”

When the helicopter dipped lower, the undead reacted. They turned in unison, their bloodied and battered faces lifting toward us. More and more gathered, arms outstretched, as if they could pull us from the sky through sheer will alone.

We had to keep moving. Jane and I had decided to stick with the military, at least for now. The plan was simple: reach our yacht, sail back to the naval base, and assist with supply runs. The shore was our best bet for survival. We could swim. They couldn’t. That much we knew.

As the helicopter veered away from the destruction, Jane’s fingers found mine. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and despite everything, managed a small smile. It was a fragile thing, but in this darkness, even the smallest light was worth holding on to.

#pandoradark #pandoradarkseries

#connecticut #zombieapocalypse

[pandoradarkofficial]

Day 1: Groton Base

"If anyone is listening, this is Vega Styles. I'm broadcasting from inside the Groton Naval Base. We've been here for about fourteen hours now, and the entire area is a warzone. The base is surrounded by blast barricades, reinforced with hastily assembled Hesco barriers. The officers here believe we can hold, so long as the infected don’t come in overwhelming numbers.

Scattered gunfire echoes through the night. Some teams are using suppressed rifles, though they are trying to conserve ammunition, while others rely on makeshift weapons like long, sharpened rebar that they drive into their skulls. Every kill is deliberate, every effort to stay quiet is crucial. But the infected keep coming.

They're saying this outbreak is tied to the flu-like virus that’s been sweeping across the country, and the world, for the last two months. What little they do know is pretty grim: transmission happens through bites, exposure to infected blood, or bodily fluids entering the mouth or eyes.

I... I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry if I sound scattered. This isn’t just a story anymore.

Listen to me carefully: Do not come to the naval base. No one is being let in. You will be shot on sight. If you are still safe, stay where you are. Barricade every entrance. Block every window. If you believe you’ve been infected, don’t seek help, there is none. Lock yourself inside for the sake of everyone else. Do not spread this more than it already is.

This may be the last time you hear from me for a while. The military is requisitioning all available equipment, including the news chopters we arrived in. Jane, my co-anchor, and I are leaving with them on the next flight out. If we’re lucky, we’ll make it to stations yatch. If we do, we’ll broadcast from there.

Until then, stay inside, stay quiet, stay safe.

This is Vega Styles, signing off."

#connecticut #zombies #apocalypse #zombieapocalypse #writing #writeig #shortstories #ao3writer

#pandoradark #pandoradarkseries

[pandoradarkofficial]

Day 0: Broadcast

"I repeat, if you can't make it to a public service building or military installation; stay indoors. Do not open them for anyone or anything. Barricade your doors and windows with whatever you have. Clean and fill your sinks, tubs, and any containers you have with water. Military and Police are working to eradicate the infected but seem to be getting overrun fast. The only way to stop them is to destroy the brain. If a family member or friend is bitten, take matters into your own hands. Do not hesitate. It takes over as fast as it takes the infected blood to reach your brain. They will turn. They will kill you if...

...What? Outside? Well, that's shitty. I can say shitty now, Jane. It's the start of the God damn Apocalypse.

I've gotten news that there is a large crowd of the infected trying to get inside the building because TERRY can't stop PEAKING through the WINDOWS. We are going to take the news chopters and head to the old Groton Naval base the military has recommisioned. If we can't air on tv, we will do it on channel 1470 am radio and cb. Vega Styles for Channel 7, out. MALCOLM, JANE LETS GET THE FU..." *static*

#pandoradark #pandoradarkseries

#connecticut #zombies #apocalypse #zombieapocalypse #writing #writeig #shortstories #ao3writer