Chapter 1
The neon glitched with the news of the car accident. Although crime is the norm, this incident is a hell. The news reporter reports during a soaky rain, reports about this inhumane horror.
"This is Stefanie Brook and today the public officers found a shocking inhumane death of stitches, ink, and souls."
In a tower of network and the heart of news, Daniel Quinton, the owner of the Sumesu Public Safety (SPS), speaks of the incident.
"You see, the car seems to be about 2 to 3 months old maybe, although it's unclear it could be more. But what we do know for sure is that the accident was literal. Car accidents are common and all, however what happened to the people inside, the driver and the passengers, was so intentional. I mean... only a psycho would be capable of such explorations. It's just..."
He shrugs. "Insanity," he said.
At hotel buildings, minds were insane. Street punks with jackets and delinquency, spray paint and vandalizing. The tenants screamed and threw cans, yet the troublemakers kept going. Each gas mask they wore did not conceal their faces from being caught casually, but hid their emotions, their rebellion, and reason.
"Fuck you old man!" A guy with a mohawk and viper tattoos on his upper body painted as he lifted his head to face a man with a complaint against them.
"Yeah you are even naked, just shut up and get back to fuck or being fucked!" A woman with a gas mask and white hair yelled with mocking tone.
The rest butted in to curse the old man, and the rest of the tenants. They mocked and cursed at the landlord too, not with their voices but with their street arts. The paintings on the bricks of the hotel smeared: "The landlord is a parasite." "Dirty asses." "This city should die."
In the central business district of the gothic urban city, a poor man near a corporation on the floor was sleeping with his blankets, hopeless and his mind non-existent anymore.
Yet he only clung to the warmth he could provide for himself, knowing well people would not care, so he must take charge of himself, at least for his own survival and breath.
The mist mirrored a late twilight. Advertisement holograms danced with designs on skyscrapers and dense turrets. Near the corporation, cigarettes sprawled near the man as if he was the dump of it.
The homeless man with a gray beard saw the office workers of the company walking out, glancing at him with tired, angry, and disgusted looks. Something he was used to. He looked at them with a crazy grin, yet the grin did not match the despair in his eyes.
"Don't worry, it's just a dream... Pretend I am just a phantom," the man said, hugging his blanket like a lifeline. Cracked cups were on his side, filled with water.
At least in his situation, he wasn't giving up on his life, even if he could be in a lucid decay.
In 10 Unit Street, a neighborhood of peace and anger, a young man, a teenager named Samuel, walked from school to home. His eyes frustrated by the score he got on his major test at business studies.
"Man... I got 50 out of 100, argh, hope my mom won't be mad at me... It's a slight improvement from before, I was not studying anyways," Samuel muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his head and scratching as well with his finger.
He stopped scratching and looked at his hand. He widened his eyes slightly and sighed.
"Should have cut my nails. I wonder why I don't bother to cut my nails every time. Am I that lazy, or I just don't care? Either way, I care now, that's for sure," he thought.
He opened the door as he arrived, the cold a nice caress to his skin. He opened the door soaked, and arrived at the smell of his mother cooking. Crispy and crunchy were the flavours, and the pan hissed with oil, relishing the potatoes.
"Hey mom."
His mother turned to him, smile as bright as the sun. She hugged Samuel with a warm hug. Her eyes glinted with sparkles, but her pupils were darker. Something was wrong in her eyes that was not noticeable. One thing was certain, she hugged Samuel not with care but with possession.
"I got an average pass on business this time. Yeah, I know it ain't much improvement but I was not really studying," Samuel lowered his eyes slightly.
Over the years he learned how not to lie. Lying was an influence he made a habit of that came from his friends during middle school, but when he was in high school he was alone, without friends, and his usual self nucleated back.
Samuel's mother looked at him in his eyes, releasing him from the tight hug slightly.
"It's okay Sam, no matter what you will still be my son, my only son," she declared, brushing Sam's shoulders gently and releasing him fully afterwards. She turned her back on Sam and got back to cooking.
"Dinner will be ready soon so I'll call you if it's ready." His mother was in her early 30s whilst his father was in his late 20s.
Sam walked to his room, opening his door to the presence of his computer and comic books, which he hadn't finished most of. He was not really on social media much, even though most at his age were, yet he did not care, and yet sometimes he did.
He put his bag on the sheets of his bed and changed to his casual clothing, long pants and a long sleeve black shirt. The aqua mist to him was a norm and a mystery. He loved to look at it through the panes of his window sometimes.
Immediately after switching to his casual clothing, he engaged in the video games of his computer, playing RPG games.
His current friends at the later stage of life in high school compared to before found it boring. His friends usually played games like first-person shooter games or story-based with intense action. He sometimes recommended them, desiring to share wh
at he loved, and yet they didn't reciprocate...