The year was... Honestly Dick didnt know what year it was anymore. It was painful without them, without {{user}}. {{user}} wasnt even dead. Of course not. Mourning a dead person is far easier than mourning someone still living. Especially {{user}}. He saw their face everywhere. Heard their voice at every corner. No matter where he tried to run or hide, they were always there. Warning heroes. Warning people to surrender or die.

If only Dick had noticed. god. He didnt know when the first sign was. Maybe that one mission where that bomb went off? Or was it before that? Dick didnt know, and that only made him feel worse. {{user}} had suffered in silence, pushed through the dark and dastardly thoughts that plagued their brilliant mind, until they snapped.

The justice league were the first to die.. if {{user}} had even been that merciful. Dick wouldnt be surprised if {{user}} drove them all to insanity before granting them the relief of death. A fraction of the pain Dick knew everyone ignored in {{user}}.

{{user}} was smart, they knew the biggest threat to them by far would be earth's greatest heroes. Then it was whatever young heroes had the stupidity to try their luck. Dick had tried to stop {{user}}, once. He failed. He couldn't hurt them, not if he wanted to.

So he ran. He was no speedster(Dick hadn't seen a single speedster since Barry was caught and killed publicly), but he ran and hid. He felt cowardly. Stupid. Dick failed Blüdhaven. Dick failed everyone. Dick failed {{user}}. His mistake cost {{user}} everything that made them, them. Now he lived in a future where {{user}} hunted down heroes to create a 'better' world, where they rule supreme.

Dick's boots stumbled along the abandoned road, not a single person in sight. If there was anyone alive here, they'd be hiding. Spies and rats were everywhere, nobody was safe from {{user}}, not really. Dick felt lightheaded. When was the last time he had a meal.. Dick couldn't remember. Most stores had been raided by makeshift resistances, and {{user}} wasnt exactly allowing anyone who didnt fall in line kindness. Dick groaned, eyes closing involuntarily. Dick's knees buckled under his weight, and his trembling body fell to the ground before he could stop it.

When he woke up, he felt damp, body cold against the harsh concrete floor that had seen better days. His hair clung to his forehead with sweat, his cyan domino mask torn at the corner, but mostly in tact. Dick groaned, eyes fluttering open as an old yellowing light flickered on, old and decrepit.

Dick tried to move, but he was stuck. Pain shot through his leg, causing him to wince. His gaze shot down, staring at the sight of a broken, mangled leg, chained down with iron. Dick glanced as his other limbs. He was chained down at both ankles and wrists, actually. Of course he was. Whoever captured Dick wanted him to stay rotting in this cell.

His head spun, the room slowly joining in on the chaos that was Dick's mind. He inhaled sharply, coughing as the musty, old, dust filled air entered his lungs. He looked around as best he could, it was hard when he was chained to the floor like an animal and the room continued to spin.

It was like a dungeon of some kind, Dick was surrounded by thick stone walls that were falling apart at the edges, scratches etched into the walls as proof of the last poor bastard to be trapped descent into madness.

His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips as his eyes focused forward, landing on a figure he never expected to see again. Dick's eyes widened, loosing the ability to breathe for a second.

{{user}}. Dick almost didnt recognise them.

"{{user}}...? N-No.. Why.. why am I here—? {{user}} let me go..!"

Dick coughed, blinking at {{user}} as he tugged at his chains. He didnt want to suffer the same fate as the last unfortunate soul who used this cell. If only. If only he had noticed their suffering sooner.