Look Twice and Never Blink. errand wip

«from the ashes, a fire shall be woken,
a light from the shadows shall spring.»

- j.r.r.tolkien

SETTING. Beneath the surface of every successful city lie the hidden, poorer areas. Every major city has them, and every city hides the fact they do. It’s an embarrassment, isn’t it? For a city that flourishes; a city that brings in billions of dollars every year through multi-billion dollar companies - to have areas that look the same as they did in the 20th century. Dirty, unkempt, and uncivilized. Santa Rita is no exception to the rule.

A heavily populated city, Santa Rita is situated somewhere in Northeast, modern-day America. Much like Boston, or New York City, Santa Rita has the typical tourist attractions: historical monuments and trails, opera houses, the likes. It is painted as a utopia, a city that all others must strive to resemble, or even to become. But if you dig deep (not even that deep, but deep enough), it’s easy to see that Santa Rita does not differ from other cities. It boasts the same characteristics as any other significant cities: rampant crime in the streets, poverty, all being covered up by the high success rates of leading companies.
 
Despite its prosperous reputation, Santa Rita bears one of the highest percentages of impoverishment in the country, an ironic contrast to the high success rates. Thousands of citizens live below the poverty line, struggling to pay rent or buy food despite the two or three minimum wage jobs they work. You’d think a city with Santa Rita’s reputation would strive to help all its’ citizens succeed, no? Clearly, that is not the case.

There seems to be a clear divide between the well-to-do parts of Santa Rita and the underprivileged sectors. The deeper you wade into the city, the more you see how poverty-stricken Santa Rita really is. It seems like a gradual transfer at first; the buildings turn from skyscrapers into exhausted apartment buildings; graffiti and litter becomes more evident. Unlike you get to Scarbro: the most deprived section of Santa Rita.

As if you’ve stepped into a movie, the difference between Scarbro and the rest of Santa Rita is shocking. Some have compared it to suddenly stepping into a black and white realm when all your life you’ve lived with vibrant colors. Pristine buildings, country clubs, polished bridges and roads - all gone. Those who visit Scarbro return back to their ordinary lives feeling truly appreciative of their circumstances (yet not one well off person has stopped to think that perhaps Scarbro is so destitute because no one is helping those who live within it). One would assume that Scarbro has remained untouched by the government since the early 20th century. The buildings are all worn down, some resembling the Leaning Tower of Pisa. There are cracks in the windows of shops, the schools all used to be prisons at some point, and the streets are littered with everything from paper to cigarette butts. Graffiti covers every corner, some art, some vandalism. There are barely any functioning shops or stores, but those that still remain open are constantly stolen from. Empty alcohol bottles, glass shards, besmirch the sidewalks; the smell of weed and trash lingers in the air. Yet in spite of the disheartening atmosphere, the hopes of all the children who reside in Scarbro continue to fly high. Somehow, they have retained their determination, despite having to mature faster than others their age. The desire to do something with their lives runs strong within all the youths of Scarbro.

Within Scarbro there are many different neighborhoods, all with their own quirks. And in one such neighborhood, the spirit of pining after a better life ran high. There were constantly riots, strikes, anything and everything in hopes for sparking change. Of course, nothing worked, the government constantly ignoring the less fortunates’ pleas. The government’s disregard of Scarbro’s requests prompted teenagers to take matters into their own hands and make their own change. For too long Scarbro as a whole had been disregarded; the injustice had gone on for far too much time. These teenagers, who called themselves the Misfits, had absolutely no idea what they were doing. The idea was heroic, but the execution was lacking. Wanting to become Robin Hoods of a sort, they raided banks and donated to charity, burnt down government houses in an attempt to make a statement. Yet in the process, they murdered innocent people, politicians - which had never been their goal. Just a few years after the Misfits had originally made their debut, Santa Rita’s entire atmosphere shifted. Although it still had a booming success rates, the degree in which the rich differed from the poor had increased drastically. While before, they had somehow managed to coexist (by that, the rich ignored the poor while the poor craved nothing more than to be spared a glance), the lower class now fought back. It was as if time had reverted a few hundred years: a war of the classes, but this time the middle class existed (it remained neutral, however, refusing to be dragged in). This class war continued for a few months, a year at the most, before eventually the Misfits were caught up in a gun fight against the cops. Everyone but two were either arrested or killed. It was then up to these two to carry on the legacy.

But a legacy of what? Of murdering, of arson? The Misfits had gotten so wrapped up in their quest for change that, in fact, they’d forgotten about the initial idea: to ignite a desire to help the less fortunate in politicians. By this point, the Misfits represented a deadly gang that wanted to hurt and kill all those in power. Which wasn’t far from the truth, but certainly not what the original purpose had been. The class war continued, though at a much smaller scale. Leading the lower class were the remnants of the Misfits: two teenagers, a boy and a girl. They continued pillaging the city, still thinking they were doing good for the society. Soon enough, however, even the lower class turned against them. Sure, there was still a fair amount that supported them - but with so many people against them, the two Misfits went into hiding.

For a while, Santa Rita was at peace. The city as a whole seemed to take a deep breath of relief in. But every now and then, a strange occurrence would make itself known - a reminder that the Misfits were still there, waiting for their chance to finally come back and strike with all the might they’d acquired over their time in hiding.