"This is my city, so do as I say."
For Gotham, today was a peaceful day. Though acid rain still fell from the night sky and the Bat-Signal still shone beneath the clouds, that did not stop people from finding some fun.
Near midnight, fireworks went off across the city. People poured into the streets, laughing as they entered one nightclub after another to drink themselves silly.
It was a celebration delayed by several days, mainly to celebrate the citizens surviving the murderous robots sent by a whole bunch of capitalists last time.
Well, there was a similar celebration almost every time. There had been one after Barbatos was defeated, another after the alien sea god was defeated. In short, whenever Gotham survived a catastrophe, the Survivors celebrated.
And this city was like a flower growing atop a mass grave. The more people died, the more richly nourished it became, and the more vividly it bloomed.
Do not misunderstand. The citizens did not hold these celebrations to congratulate the Justice League for defeating the enemy. They did it for themselves: on one hand, to celebrate their own survival; on the other, to rejoice over swallowing the inheritances of the dead.
Those inheritances came in many forms, and nearly every survivor could benefit from them.
For instance, on ordinary days, an ordinary man could only peek through the peephole at the beautiful married woman next door. She was so perfect that even one furtive glance felt like an offense against a Goddess. How could an ordinary man possibly deserve her?
But after a disaster, things were different. Her husband was dead. Nearly everyone in the apartment building was dead. And the ordinary man had looted the dead people's homes as quickly as possible afterward. Now, all the wealth in the entire