It used to be different. There used to be a time when people would laugh at the concept of real life superheroes. They didn't appear all at once; they popped up slowly. It began with rumours in Gotham City of a vigilante, then Metropolis was attacked by aliens and Starling City gained a vigilante when they changed to Star City. At first, people didn't believe the rumours. As more sightings headlined in their respective local newspapers, however, we began to believe, to hope. We began our downfall.
It all started when the Flash, Central City's Scarlet Speedster, died. President Luthor is who everyone knew was behind the death; but any evidence implicating him would mysteriously disappear before it could be used against him. The Justice League wasn't seen for nearly a week, assumed to be in grieving of one of the founding heroes.
We were wrong though. In our blind trust of these heroes, we forgot they weren't perfect. We thought they had retreated to simply let the news sink in, but we could have never known they were really plotting. They call it Liberation Day, June 20th, 2009, or the day Superman murdered President Luthor and took over the government. He had melted Luthor where he sat, on the chair in the Oval Office. We laughed hesitantly, so very sure it was just a prank in bad taste. Our illusion shattered quickly, as we screamed in terror of these false gods.
Liberation Day was six years, nine months and twenty days ago. The Justice League and the golden days of safety are just fading memories to the younger generations. The Justice Lords and terror are our new reality. They rule with an iron fist, our every action watched by their cameras and spies.
Murmurs of a resistance sometimes catch my ear before they are quickly squashed. Murmurs saying the Bat isn't dead, that he is trying to fix what happened nearly seven years ago. They are hard rumours to believe though, no one has seen even the Bat's shadow since Liberation Day.
Batman wasn't the only one to disappear. On that one day, on June 21st 2009, every single superhero who was opposed to the Justice Lords' new rule just vanished. For the first few days, Gotham was a madhouse. The villains and gangs reigned superior. We all cowered like dogs and hid in our houses until the streets outside went silent. We watched as, one by one, every villain outside was systematically slaughtered by the Lords, only a few being left alive to go on and serve as deputies. The citizens of Gotham watched in horror, unbelieving that our so called heroes could do such a thing. Me? I watched it just as they did, with confusion and shock. I had grown up with these heroes. Superman was Uncle Clark to me, he was the nice one who always snuck me cookies. He was the one who helped convince Bruce to let me aid him as a heroine.
This was my family murdering people on the streets. I had shamed myself, saying I should be out there defending my neighbors as the blood filled the streets. Bruce's order to give up my cowl and lay low had overridden any thoughts I had of running out there. I cried myself to sleep every night, hearing people cry out for the caped crusaders who had defended them before this. I cried because my friends, my family, were no more. I cried because this was not how it was supposed to be. We were here to protect people, not massacre the ones who dared to defy.
It hurts still, even now (six years, nine months, twenty days). Today is the day I've always been fearing, since the takeover and Bruce's disappearance. The news was blaring out the headline Gotham rebel arrested and a picture of my former brother in arms, Richard Grayson. They had put out wanted alerts for every member of the Batfamily the moment we went underground. I hadn't seen him in so long (six, nine, twenty) but I would know his crystal blue eyes anywhere. They didn't have the same sparkle as they had before, he had grown a beard and looked so very thin.
"The notorious rebel Richard Grayson has been apprehended by Happy Harbor police this week. He has been #2 most wanted since Liberation Day almost seven years ago. He is being arrested for acts of treason, being an illegal vigilante in Gotham years ago and assaulting one of the Justice Lords. They are still searching for Bruce Wayne and Alexandria Kyle, #1 and #3 Most Wanted respectively. Please call your local police if you have seen either of these fugitives." The news woman read off the teleprompter in an almost dead monotone, the screen switching to show pictures of the other fugitives. I blinked, hardly recognizing my own photo. I had not seen myself since I changed my appearance, and not heard my true name in just as long. I went by Abigail Ramone now, and looked nearly completely opposite of Alexandria.
My shocked gaze at the ancient television screen was interrupted as my phone rang. All use of cellphones had been forbidden, and contact restricted to only phone lines the Lords could monitor. I hesitantly crossed into the hallway off my living room, hovering over the phone as it rang a few more times. I had waited a tad too long, however, and the answering machine kicked on with a whirring, creaking, groan.
"Abby, it's your Uncle Moony. I was hoping you could meet me at the park down the street from your mother's old home tonight three hours before curfew." A gruff voice crackled out of the machine, soundly awfully familiar for some reason. I didn't have an Uncle, let alone one named Moony. I glanced back to the living room, where the flat voice was still reading facts about Dick, Bruce, and Alexandria. It was suspiciously timed, a phone call from a fake Uncle and Dick getting caught.
"Most knew the three as former vigilantes in Gotham. They were the notorious Batman, Nightwing, and Feline. They all vanished after Liberation Day, and have not been seen until now. Wayne is believed to be somewhere around Keystone or Central City, while Kyle is believed to be in Coast City. In other news.." I turned the television off. I didn't get my hopes up on Bruce being near Central considering how off my supposed location was. I'd stayed in Gotham because I knew that was the last place they'd expect me to stay, and because I couldn't bring myself to leave the only city I'd ever known.
It was almost surreal still, seeing the Gotham of now. Don't get me wrong, Gotham was still the most crime infested city in the nation. It still rank of corruption and drugs, but it didn't hold a candle to the Gotham of yesterday. No more villains such as Poison Ivy and Riddler interrupted our days. Some had survived the first wave of massacre, fleeing to Arkham Island; but the Lords had actually been trying to drive them there. They sank the island, with all of it's occupants. They hadn't just killed some villains; they kill innocent workers and guards who had done no crime against them. All of the big bads had been there, Joker and Harley, Penguin and Killer Croc, Riddler and Ivy, Freeze and Scarecrow, Two-Face and Firefly. All of them gone the instant Lord Orin had commanded the ocean to swallow Arkham Island whole.
There was anarchy at first, various gangs trying to get their piece of Gotham until Lord Diana established her Amazonian deputies as the Gotham Queens. Most of the big cities had a 'patron Lord', which were the heroes who used to protect them. Metropolis became the new capital, with Lord Kal at the helm. Washington DC was destroyed when the Lords bombed the Hall of Justice to keep people from gathering there in protest. Lord Diana had chosen Gotham when Batman and his heroes went into hiding, knowing we would be formidable if we ever decided to try and take back Gotham. Lord Oliver had assumed Star City, establishing his deputies as Roy Harper and Ray Palmer when Dinah Lance had vanished. Lord Orin had returned to Atlantis after the Lords established their hold and hadn't been seen since. Lord J'onn remained, to my knowledge, in the floating satellite the League had once called home, presumably to monitor any intergalactic threats. As for the rest of the world, all travel outside the country had been prohibited; our contact with the outside forbidden. We knew nothing of what happened to the rest of the world six years, nine months and twenty days ago.
I glanced back at the answering machine. The house that was listed on my forged papers as my childhood home didn't have a park anywhere near it. The only place I can remember having a park nearby was my true home, which frightened me. Whoever that had been knew who I really was. These cover identities were secrets, shared only with the fellow protectors of Gotham. They were all set up when we first became heroes, and we worked hard on making believable. We added paperwork to the trail, growing the covers as we grew ourselves. A glance at the clock told me I had just enough time to get changed and arrive early in order to get a good hiding spot to figure out who 'Uncle Moony' really was.