Justice is a rumor there.
That’s what they say when the neon flickers just right—when the rain hits harder than the gunshots, and the silence feels heavier than screams.
The city breathes, but it’s not alive. It remembers. It hides. It devours the brave and leaves only whispers behind.
Rules don’t exist here. Not real ones. Only what gets written… and what gets broken.
Robberies in broad daylight. Murders on public display. This is what happens when you let the public rule what was never theirs to begin with.
Someone out there wants order—real order. And they’d do anything to get it.
There’s no such thing as hope here. Not anymore.