The Fall of Gotham

 

(Indeterminate Future — Unknown Year)

Wind scraped the broken glass across the steps of Gotham Hill like a thousand tiny knives. The federal capital- the pride of the UCSS- lay quiet beneath a haze of smoke and drifting ash.

Norah Anam knelt down on the ruined terrace overlooking the once proud Commonwealth District. Beside her, Elian Reyes scanned the wreckage, hand resting near the holster he no longer technically needed but refused to abandon.

Below them, the city was a corpse.
Collapsed ministries.
Burned-out transit hubs.
Maglev pylons twisted like ribcages.

…and laced through the silence, warped and skipping through shattered loudspeakers:

The Buffoon’s recorded laughter.

Then the words, taunting, distorted:

“You made me into a buffoon… but who’s the buffoon now?”

Elian’s jaw tightened. Norah exhaled shakily.

Stencils littered the ruins- the Buffoon’s jagged grin, the teardrop sigil, the puppet cut from its strings. Each one burned into her like a personal accusation.

“How did I let this happen?” Norah whispered.

Elian didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Gotham wasn’t just the pride of UCSS but it grew into the pride of the world. The place where democracy stood and democracy shined. The place that stood and defied the authoritarians of the world and gave the oppressed hope. The place that had eclipsed Buffalo, eclipsed Rome, eclipsed Eshiba as the world’s most important city.

Gotham was never supposed to fall. Norah believed that more than anyone else.

…but here it lay, a smouldering shell of what it once was.

Sometimes history refused to make sense.

A burnt fragment of a UCSS banner tumbled across the ground at her feet, only two words still readable:

“UNITY BROKEN.”

Norah stared at it, hollow.
“Buffalo survived,” she murmured. “Of course they get to.”

Before Elian could respond, a soft crunch of debris came from behind them.

They spun.

A figure emerged from the smoke- tall, dark-coated, feather-edged, a raven-like silhouette walking carefully over the ruins. A beaked hood hid their face, but their posture was unmistakably human… and unmistakably familiar.

Norah stiffened.

Elian’s hand went instantly to his weapon.

The Raven stopped just outside arm’s reach.

Their voice was low, heavy with regret:

“I made this.”

Elian stepped forward, fury snapping in his eyes.

“You?” he growled.
“What the hell did you do? What did you cause?”

The Raven didn’t flinch.

Norah stepped between them, arm outstretched, blocking Elian with a hard shove to his chest.

“Elian, stop.”

His breath caught- angry, confused, protective- but he held his ground behind her.

The Raven continued, voice cracking with something she couldn’t identify:

“I need to fix it.”
“…but I can’t do it alone.”
“Norah… I need your help.”

Elian stared, stunned and unsure of what to think.
Norah closed her eyes for a moment, knowing the voice… knowing exactly who stood before her beneath that hood.

Behind them, The Buffoon’s taunt looped again through the ruins:

“Who’s the buffoon now?”

Fade out.