This was a silent city.
There were no gunshots, explosions, or sirens. Only clouds so thick they seemed unable to disperse forever blotted out the last trace of moonlight. The city's only illumination came from a red figure.
He raced through the ruins of the city, yet no running motion could be seen. He was like a red bolt of lightning, but a heavy blackness trailed in the shadow behind him.
The red figure stopped before a gravestone. The clouds showed him one final mercy, allowing a beam of moonlight to fall upon the stone and reveal the crookedly carved name, making it seem all the more desolate.
"Barry Allen."
The Flash was dead, though there was no body. He lived on in another way, but countless sinful corpses lay buried beneath the gravestones blanketing the hills. The one in his arms was the last. When that mangled corpse fell to the ground, the tiny dust it kicked up seemed like a silent sigh.
When the figure turned around, a bat emblem whiter than moonlight was printed across his chest. Yet the space between the bat's wings had been cut apart by the shape of a lightning bolt, like a bat torn in two.
The countless spike-like edges on his shoulder armor gleamed coldly beneath the moonlight. He turned without mercy, not lingering for even a second longer over the name of an old friend. Perhaps, as the one responsible for burying the Flash here, he had every reason to remain unmoved.
The moonlight became increasingly hazy and blurred, as though the world had been draped in a thin veil. By the time he realized it, thick fog had engulfed the graveyard.
He turned and saw a dark figure standing silently in the heart of the fog far away.
There