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THE DAY THAT SUPERMAN DIED, THE WORLD WENT TO SHIT. The crime in the cities increased day by day. People barely went out into the streets out of fear of being killed or robbed at gunpoint. The homeless crowded the sidewalks as people walked by without any pity. Nobody cared anymore since the beacon of hope was gone for good.
Everyone mourned him for what felt like years. The people prayed that it was all a dream and that he was alive, but not even prayers helped. The only protection we had was Batman, and even to me, he wouldn't have that same legacy.
The people needed a new hero, they needed someone to defend those who couldn't. That was me. Of course, I wasn't going to live the same legacy as Superman but it was something. Even when Superman was alive, it was all I wanted to do. The thing was, I wasn't a hero or a villain. I was a vigilante.
Nobody likes vigilantes. The only one they like is Batman. While the others were hunted by the police when in crime-fighting mode, but some vigilantes were under the radar, just not me. I wanted people to know me, I wanted them to know I was there, I didn't want my actions going unknown. I wanted to be known.
That's when I started to become who I am now. I made myself a suit, like any other vigilante. I wore black boots and a black mask. The only color that stood out was the silver whip and the silver snake bracelets encircled around my wrists. There was a built tied around my waist with a gun and some other things that could come in handy in other situations.
•••
BRUCE SAT NEAR HIS COMPUTER WITH DIANA LOOMING OVER HIM. The two were looking at pictures of people that Bruce wanted to recruit. Diana stood with her arms folded across her chest and her head cocked to the side.
Diana saw a picture of a woman—about the same age as Barry Allen, on the screen. The girl had jet-black hair and dark brown eyes. The pictures of her were from her high school yearbook, drivers license, and pictures from security footage of different stores.
"Who is she?" Diana asked pointing to the picture of the girl with a puzzled look on her face.
Bruce let out a sigh, "Her name is Esperanza Flores or otherwise known as Onyx," Bruce tapped a key on the keyboard and new images popped up. It was the same girl except her hair was in a slick ponytail, she wore a black skintight suit with matching shoes, she also wore a black mask with her outfit, in hand, she held a whip and on both her wrists she had a snake bracelet encircled around her wrists.
"Onyx?" Diana asked.
"She started crime-fighting around three years ago when her parents were murdered," Bruce started, "She came to the United States when she was eight years old from Mexico,"
