The ground trembled.
It started beneath the Ark Academies—a deep, ominous shake that worked its way up through the soil, rattling the reinforced foundations.
Dust sifted down from the rafters. Light fixtures swung violently **clink-clink-clink** before smashing to the floor in sharp explosions of glass. **CRASH!** **TINKLE!**
If the structures had been ordinary, they would have buckled by now. But Arias hadn't built the Ark Academies for appearances. Every slab, every beam, every unseen strut was armored.
Still, hairline cracks appeared at the edges of walls. Lockers shifted on their bolts. Somewhere deep in the dorms, a bookshelf toppled over with a muffled **THUMP**.
The students, clustered mostly in the dormitory wings, felt it immediately. Screams echoed through the corridors—not from terror, but confusion.
They were trained. Drills had been embedded in their routines. Emergency bunkers, fallback points, coded routes: all ingrained into muscle memory.
Billy, for his part, was crouched next to his bed, clutching a battered football. His room was a teenage battleground—dirty jerseys strewn across the floor, snack wrappers littering his desk, pizza boxes stacked against the wall like crooked gravestones.
The tremor didn't so much ruin his room as it validated its existing disaster.
Above him, the flat-screen TV shook violently on its wall mounted perch.
Billy muttered under his breath, "Of all the days..."
The room seemed to rumble with the trembling earth, then—
**BZZZT**
The dorm intercom flickered on. The voice that came through was familiar.
"Do not panic, students," Arias's voice said, cutting across the panic like a scalpel. "The tremors you are experiencing are simply the aftereffects of a new security system being implemented."
Billy blinked up at the speaker as if it might elaborate.
Moments later, the shaking stopped.
The walls stilled. The dust settled.
Billy exhaled hard, tossing the football across the room where it bounced limply off a pile of dirty clothes. He stood, brushing himself off, and glanced at the TV.
The football game he had been playing flickered back on, frozen at the start of the second quarter.
Billy's relief was short-lived.
**FZZT**
The screen blinked black. Then an entirely different feed took over.
Seated behind a heavy oak desk—a desk Billy vaguely recognized from some local news segments—was Slade Wilson.
His suit looked more formal than functional, but it didn't soften him. If anything, he looked even more dangerous, lounging back in what used to be the Gotham Mayor's private office.
Billy scratched his head, muttering under his breath, "I wonder what kinda security system it is... I bet it's super cool."
He didn't notice the flicker of the Leviathan Corp logo in the bottom corner of the feed.
———
Meanwhile, across the country, it was a different story entirely.
Cities far from Gotham shook—not from tremors, but from something worse: fear.
The revelations aired by exposed government officials had ignited a fury no containment plan could douse. Protests erupted outside statehouses.
Crowds boiled over into the streets. Where once there were lines of police, now there were divisions—some enforcing law, others abandoning posts, others joining the rioters outright.
Towns without National Guard presence buckled first.
In some cities, entire sheriff departments openly turned on the federal authorities, holding up hastily written banners scrawled with things like "No More Lies" and "Justice Now."
In others, the chaos fractured differently: neighbor against neighbor, street by street, ideology dividing people who had once shared morning coffees without a second thought.
The League fought a losing battle to contain it.
Paired off into tactical teams, League members struggled to even slow the tide
Green Lantern and Batman working a midwestern capital, constructing emergency barriers while smoke darkened the horizon.
Artemis and Black Canary corralling protestors in a southern city, only to be forced into retreat when the crowd refused to yield.
Dr. Fate and Zatanna swooping into smaller towns, where fury had turned neighborly fairs into armed camps.
Even Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian spent their energy pulling unconscious civilians out of dangerous streets.
They weren't winning.
They weren't even holding the line.
And Gotham—the heart of Arias's operations—remained eerily calm.
No protests. No fires. No uprisings.
———
Some time later inside the Batwing, the low hum of the engines buzzed.
Batman sat rigid in the pilot's seat, the cityscape below flashing by in blurs of gray and black. Beside him, Green Lantern sat cross-legged, arms folded, looking thoroughly unimpressed as he watched the land scarred with riots and smoke.
Suddenly—
**BZZT**
The console lit up with a sharp warning ring. A small green icon pulsed rapidly on the dashboard.
Batman's hand moved instantly to the comm switch.
Martian Manhunter's voice crackled through, calm but with an edge.
"Batman, I think you might want to see this."
Without a word, Batman tapped a second control, and a holographic screen flickered to life in front of them.
The image sharpened—Slade Wilson, seated behind a massive oak desk that didn't belong to him but now fit him like a second skin. His hands were clasped together in front of him, his posture straight, almost regal.
His single good eye stared into the camera without blinking.
"As I'm sure many of you have seen," Slade began, voice carrying the casual weight of a gun laid across a table, "our government can't be trusted for shit."
Green Lantern tilted his head, frowning, but said nothing yet.
Slade continued, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was barely resisting a smirk.
"They use people—you people—like cheap currency to buy themselves a better tomorrow. Meanwhile, you suffer the consequences."
The screen showed flashes of burning protests across different cities, compiled into a tidy, damning slideshow.
"You've all seen the truth now. And so has Arias Markovic. Because of this, he's decided to liberate Gotham from this madness."
The holographic image zoomed out slightly, showing Slade's hands spreading slowly as if laying a final brick into place.
"So from this day forward," he said, "Gotham City will no longer be part of the United States. Gotham is now its own sovereign nation."
Batman's fingers tightened slightly around the steering column, but he remained silent.
Slade's voice dipped into a lower tone.
"Protected by Leviathan Corp. Ruled by the people. You'll have the best healthcare in the world, the best education, the best infrastructure—because you will own it. Not faceless men behind mansions and yachts."
Green Lantern scoffed under his breath. "He's selling a damn fairy tale."
Slade, almost as if hearing him, shifted tone again.
"But freedom without discipline is rot. And to keep this nation alive, we will have laws—real ones. Laws that will not bend. Laws we call the Founder's Mandates. And here is a glimpse into some of them."
The screen split again, revealing the "Mandates" in brutal, stark lettering.
He who murders an innocent shall be executed publicly—no appeals, no exceptions.
Those found guilty of rape shall be castrated, surgically feminized, and imprisoned for life among male convicts.
Thieves shall lose the hand that stole. A second offense will cost the other.
No taxes. Wealth is redistributed annually to prevent the formation of aristocracy.
Trial by jury, enforced by mandatory citizen participation—no legal loopholes, no bought verdicts.
Education is free, mandatory, and strictly merit-based. No one rises through nepotism.
Healthcare is a guaranteed right—those who sabotage it for profit will face life imprisonment.
Bribery of an official results in permanent expulsion from Gotham.
Failure to serve community duties results in temporary revocation of citizenship rights.
Destruction of natural/public resources without authorization results in mandatory labor service until the damage is repaid.
…..
The list went on but Slade leaned forward, his hands steepled.
"Should you refuse to abide by these laws, you can leave. No one will stop you."
His voice hardened, the underlying promise turning vicious.
"But should you stand in the way... you'll be uprooted like the weeds you are."
Green Lantern shifted in his seat, face tight. "They can't be serious, right?"
Batman didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed locked on the screen.
Slade continued without hesitation.
"Until formal elections can be held, the following individuals will oversee this transition:"
He held up a hand as if reading from an invisible decree.
"Slade Wilson — Supreme Executor."
"Commissioner James Gordon — High Marshal of Law and Order."
"Diana, Princess of Themyscira — Grand Praetor of Defense."
"Arias Markovic — Chancellor of the Ark Academies and Cultural Advancement."
"Dr. Theresa October — Curator of Science and Innovation."
"Dr. Pamela Isley — Minister of Dirt and Weeds." Slade allowed himself a small smile as he said this, even emphasizing. "Yes, that's the official title."
"And finally... Bruce Wayne — Steward of Foreign Affairs. Because if anyone knows how to mingle with foreign devils, it's a man who used to be one. Other governing positions will be announced in due time. Right now our concern is ensuring you're all safe from what's going on."
The feed cut briefly to different shots—armed patrols securing Gotham, crowds gathering in silent confusion.
Slade clasped his hands once more, his tone grave:
"This is not rebellion. This is reclamation. Welcome to the new Gotham."
The screen went dark.
Inside the Batwing, the low whine of the engines seemed deafening now.
Batman finally spoke, voice low.
"They're serious."
Green Lantern shook his head, beyond surprised. "So the whole stunt—the leaks, the protests—all of it... just smoke and mirrors to buy time?"
Batman's gloved fingers drummed once against the console.
"Not just that," he muttered. "By showing how broken the government was, they made the people beg for change. Arias didn't just expose corruption... he exposed a broken system."
Green Lantern exhaled sharply, looking back down at the cities crumbling beneath them.
"Talk about overkill."
Before either could say more, Martian Manhunter's voice returned through the comm.
"Batman. We've also detected an unusual radiation spike from the Ark Academies. It's faded now, but the initial readings were... concerning."
Batman narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mind already racing ahead.
He said nothing aloud, but a single thought pushed itself forward like an unwelcome guest.
Just what the hell are you trying to build, Arias?