Because of You

Chapter 1 - The Calm before the Storm

25th March began with a light drizzle. The sun shone for the major part of the day with celebrations in full swing. The City Square was set up with pictures of the deceased as a tribute for their resilience.

While bakeries baked treats and shops and streets decorated itself with symbols of their heroes, the mood was wonderful. Happiness at its finest. And such a mood was a first in the dreadful city of Gotham.

Sponsored by the Wayne Enterprises, several Gothamites declared the day a holiday and basked in their new found freedom.

The Wayne family was allowed to make an appearance as vigilantes, though their identities still remain unknown, by the government. It was a permission which was rarely ever given. Being forced into exile was not something the vigilantes would agree to but after spending more than half their lifetime fighting into exhaustion, the Waynes thought that it was high time they settled into normal lives. There was no established law that made their appearance illegal, but the current government seemed to restore some of Bruce's faith in a much more secure future. The rest of his family shared his thoughts.

As of that day, it would have been at least nine months since a new set of laws called 'The Modern Bill,' reached the people, once the Liberals were replaced by the Progressives in the Parliament. 

The first and most important law was the Surveillance Law. Cameras lined every nook and cranny of the city. Trained professionals sat at the heart of the city and scrutinized every detail of the surveillance footage. And it was established that any illegal activity caught on camera would be used as proof to arrest and sustain a person in Arkham prison for a minimum of three months. This law also forced all data to be computerized. The footage as well as current or expired crime reports were to be fed into the system database of the Security Room.

Then came the Control of Sensationalism. Gotham's media was known to be notorious. Harassment and creation of fake news was common before the Day of the Fallen. For this purpose, every functioning Institution reserved one position for a spy, who would inform the company's progress back to the government. Though the freedom of press was not revoked, spreading of fake news or exaggerated information called for a heavy fine on the Company.

People's personal favorite was the Anti-Corruption Law. Any act of bribery or corruption, involving any government based or private based authority caught, would result in immediate displacement of said person's position.

The Duty Law aimed towards improvement in actions taken by the police. Justice must be served. And this Law also stated that vigilantes need not step forth for any act of protection unless an external threat commands so.

The final law, which concluded all the others: any person caught in the act of defying any of the above laws, until with an understandable reason, would receive a straight ticket to Arkham.

The tax payment and other details, which had early been buried deep in the Parliament headquarters, was brought up and re-established. There was order at last! In the heart of the city stood the Parliament building, tall and proud, dubbed The Gotham Hall.

The pardon of the villains still caused havoc on the streets, but people were afraid, that if their voices got too loud, they would be punished. The new laws were brutal, but just. And the Gothamites knew that order needed to be restored. This however, did not stop them from ridiculing the children or family of the villains. They became the silent sufferers.

The next few months saw fast progress as a straight line graph. Upwards and only upwards. Not a single instance of crime reported, not a single person arrested, not even in The Narrows, the most dangerous streets in the city. Life was peaceful.

The Day of the Fallen went on wonderfully. Holding a candle to the deceased souls, walking around free with big smiles, sharing love and happiness publicly with no fear...

But then at the stroke of midnight, the surveillance camera behind uninhibited street of the Judith theater, in the dark alley, specifically, caught the blurry image of a person dressed in black, limping away from the empty alley, leaving behind trails of what looked like blood.

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The reaction was immediate. The second this caught the eye of the trained professional, a phone call was made to the nearest police station and they sprang into action. Accompanied by the blaring of the blue-red lights, they made it to the specific street, to see the trail left behind. 

It was blood, alright.

Crimson red blood. 

The scent of a fresh kill lingered in the air.

Human blood.

The trail of blood seemed to have ended right at the turning of the street, as if the person vanished into thin air.

"Sir, this may be his/her own blood," one of the officers tried to console the team, "We may have misjudged the situation," he tried to justify, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as a glare was directed his way.

"Mr. Smith, with all due respect, a person with such heavy blood loss, would have collapsed or died by now," the superior officer countered, adjusting his badge that labelled him as Gordon. 

Understanding the uneasy atmosphere, the other five officers moved to study the starting point of the blood path. They followed and followed till the path ended right outside a shabby shanty. A dull grey house or rather bricks put together to form what looked like living quarters of a poor person.

The officers stood right outside, assessing the situation. Waiting for their superiors to reach them, they looked around, in search for clues. Oddly intrigued by the abrupt or out of place starting point of the red trail, one of the officers, Carter, walked into the shack. His gun held out in defense, as if it were his only life line. He noticed the already open door and followed.

But once his eye caught what lay in the middle of the room, he released a hideous shriek. In came four officers: two women and two men, their guns out on alert. What they saw before them, may have left them horrified,

for in front of them lay a man, a pair of scissors in his gut with blood spilling out like an endless river. His face was ruined, probably to have his identity hidden, his hands had long scratch marks, the sign of a struggle. 

But what terrified them most was the writing on the wall. Blue paint on the dull grey wall read: 

Tremble, therefore, tyrants of the city,

Tremble before your sole guardian.

The dead man needs no one's pity

 For his death held a special union,

The union of crime and duty will be preserved,

For justice has finally been served...

- Lady Justice

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To read other stories written by me:

https://www.wattpad.com/1159471400-tracking-her-down

https://www.wattpad.com/story/292014426-the-twist-of-fate

Please leave behind comments on how I can improve. Lots of love - ARchiac