"The Last Judgment of Gotham"

Gotham had always been a city of death. No matter how many times someone tried to fix it, clean it, or save it, the rot remained. It was built into the foundation, seeping through the streets like poison. Liam had lived in Gotham all his life, trying to be a good man, trying to hold on to the belief that justice existed. But Gotham didn't reward the good. It fed on them. Liam's last memory was of an alleyway, a cold night, and the laughter of men who had decided his life meant nothing. He wasn't even supposed to be there—just a bystander caught at the wrong time, in the wrong place. They didn't even rob him. They didn't need a reason. Gotham's criminals rarely did. The first cut came fast. The second was slower, deliberate. He could still feel the sensation of steel against his neck before the world turned black. And then—he woke up. It wasn't Gotham anymore. It wasn't anywhere. The place he found himself in wasn't warm or cold, light or dark. It was a void, stretching endlessly in all directions. At first, Liam thought he was in some version of the afterlife, some limbo where the forgotten dead wandered. But then, he felt something watching him. "You died a meaningless death," a voice said, smooth and emotionless. "But I can offer you something more." Liam turned. A figure stood before him, its form shifting, ever-changing. It wasn't a man, or a woman. It simply was. "Who are you?" Liam asked. His voice was steady, but inside, something was stirring. "A god. Or something close enough. And I have an offer for you." Liam's fingers curled into fists. He remembered the laughter of his killers, the flash of the blade. He had always believed in justice, but he had never gotten it. If there was a chance to fix that, to set things right, he would take it. "I want another life," Liam said. "I want my revenge." The god tilted its head. "Then you shall have it." And with those words, the void shattered. Liam woke up gasping, his breath ragged. He was alive. His body felt different, stronger. He wasn't sure if it was just his mind adjusting, or if something had changed about him entirely. But there was no time to question it. He was in Gotham again—back in the world that had betrayed him. And he wasn't alone. "You're awake," a voice said, cold and distant. Liam turned. A woman stood beside him, her skin pale as death, her black eyes unreadable. She was beautiful in a haunting way, her long, flowing hair seeming to shift like smoke. But there was no warmth in her. "Who are you?" he asked. "I am Lady Death," she said simply. "And I am here to guide you." Liam narrowed his eyes. "Guide me where?" She held up a small black notebook, placing it into his hands. The cover was plain, but the moment he touched it, he felt the weight of it—the power inside. "To your new purpose," Lady Death said. "This is the Death Note. With it, you can kill anyone, as long as you know their name and face." Liam stared at the book. He should have hesitated. But he didn't. The man he used to be would have questioned it, would have wondered if this was the right thing to do. But that man had died in an alleyway, his head severed from his body. This was who he was now. "And what do you want in return?" he asked. Lady Death tilted her head slightly. "Nothing. I am merely here to observe. The rest is up to you." Liam opened the book. His first test would be a small one. A name. A face. A death. He wrote carefully, with purpose. He didn't even need to wait long. Somewhere in Gotham, a man's heart stopped beating. Just like that. Liam exhaled. He wasn't afraid. Lady Death watched him, her expression unreadable. "You are ready." Liam spent the next few weeks in the shadows, watching, learning. Gotham hadn't changed in his absence. The crime lords still ruled. The corrupt still thrived. And above them all, two figures stood at war—Batman and Joker. Liam had heard the stories before, but now, he studied them. Batman was predictable. Joker was not. And that made Joker the bigger threat. If Liam truly wanted to fix Gotham, to burn out the corruption, Joker had to die first. But there was a problem—no one knew Joker's real name. And the Death Note was useless without it. Lady Death had warned him of this. "You cannot kill a ghost," she had said. "You must first make him human." Liam had to find a way to force Joker to remember who he really was. And that meant breaking him. The first step was subtle. Small crimes, designed to mirror Joker's own work—but with slight differences. A murder here, a fire there, messages left in places only Joker would understand. It didn't take long for the rumors to start. "Is Joker losing it?" people whispered. "Did he really do this? Or is there another one?" Joker himself began to notice. At first, he laughed it off. "Cute," he said. "Someone out there thinks they can be me. Adorable." But then, it kept happening. Crimes that felt like his, but weren't quite right. Something was off. Something was wrong. And then Liam made his boldest move yet. He stood in front of a camera, face obscured, voice distorted. "I am the real Joker," he declared. Joker watched the footage in silence. For the first time in a long time, he didn't laugh. Something inside him twisted. A doubt he didn't want to admit existed. Who was he? Joker had spent so long in madness, so long running from the truth, that now—when faced with the possibility that someone else might be him—his mind began to crack. Liam had started the game. And Joker was already losing