Gotham wasn’t ashes, not yet, but it was certainly at the mercy of its citizens.
The League had taken over the courthouse and established it as their ‘headquarters’; former prisoners of Blackgate continued to scour the city for citizens to arrest and by now everyone knew the dangers of leaving their homes.
Barsad left Bane’s side as he leaned against his usual pillar, watching Crane’s hearings with mild interest, to do a sweep of the second floor again. There were already groups of ‘prisoners’ accumulating around containers with fires and passing around meager rations, their heads bowed and their voices kept low.
No one spoke to him as he walked further away from the ‘trials’ and opened doors to check that nothing and no one were where they shouldn’t be. The cheering and shouting behind him died down a bit again, most likely to better hear someone begging for mercy before being led to execution, as he neared one last closed door at the end of a hallway and opened it.
He stopped, surprised, and simply stared for a moment.
MARU, YOU NEED TO WRITE MORE OFTEN, GODDAMNIT.
This is beautiful. I’m serious, it’s beautiful.
For some reason, it gives me so many Barsad feels.