In some ways it seems impossible that it has been a year to the day since The Long, Dark Night that sealed the fate of Gotham City. Sometimes it feels like we've always been in our current hell, and other times it feels like a dream we had just last night.
Lord knows what happened that night was as surreal as the strangest of nightmares. People started gathering outside City Hall in mid-afternoon. They came alone, in groups of two or three, in family cars, by the busload. Some brought blankets and lawnchairs, apparently expecting something like a fireworks display. There was a huge stage--bigger than anyone had ever seen in that spot--covered in scaffolding. It had appeared literally overnight, and it was guarded by dozens and dozens of armed men clad in black.
The men regarded all of us like ... well, like cattle, being led to slaughter, if you'll excuse the cliché. It's a pretty accurate expression in this case, after all.
Here's another hackneyed phrase that rings true: there was electricity in the air as the sun went down.
Only it wasn't just electricity. You could smell it. Hell, you could practically taste it. And things would never be the same again.