A bright star, resting in the sky, looking down upon all the small creatures on the surface of the Earth. Far, far away from any other human being.. Away from the horrid situation of everyday life.. Oh how it must feel to be a powerful cosmic entity powerful enough to rip atoms in half… staring right through you… almost looking right at your soul hungrily... Scott shook his head vigorously. He sat up groggily from his spot on the roof. He realized he’s been up there for over two hours, his wife must be worried sick. He inhaled slowly and put his arms up in a stretching motion. There was a small crack and a groan. Scott threw his leg over the side of the roof and carefully lowered himself down onto the next set of tiles over another shack. He looked around at all the dazzling lights of the Slum he was forced to live in. Ah how horrible this place was, but you can always find hidden beauty in everything. He gave a very short sigh. Scott slowly turned his head to glance up at the monumental shadow permanently cast unto this place, the shadow created by the towering city of Felicity, the once powerful central city now overtaken by a ruthless leader. Scott’s eyebrow twitched slightly when he thought of the ugly mug that ran the place… Luis Braxton. The one that forced Scott to live in this horrid place. The one that forced himself to power when he assassinated both leaders of the nations that once stood. Everyone knows the story by heart, well anyone that’s old enough. No one dare speak of the atrocities caused by Luis, lest you want to keep your teeth, or your life. Not even the children can know about it, but that doesn’t stop the citizens of the Slums creating secret schools and educating the young about the world they live in. It’s not like they can receive paid education from the government as is… or.. paid anything. Luis doesn’t care about the Slums whatsoever. They only exist for one reason and one reason only… to keep the ‘impure’ out of the ‘pure’ Inner City. Luis has very high standards for living, only beings he deems worthy can be his only true citizens, the rest are all slaughtered. Well, that was the ‘old’ way. He soon realized after about three million souls were lost, he could monopolize on the labor of the ‘impure’. The rest of the survivors were thrown into the Slums where they’re forced to work for scraps and tattered clothing. The people have adapted to their situation quite well. They’re excellent at lying and hiding secrets from guards who come down from the capital once in a while to see who they could pick on or maybe kill. They’re good at pickpocketing and stealing especially from each other. Best to keep a small knife on you when trekking through here.

Scott hopped off the tiles of the shack and on to another shack below that. This architecture is absolute shit, He thought to himself. Can’t say I’m really surprised. No one from the capital gives two flying fucks about us.. He let out a snort from his nostrils.

Scott hopped off the roofs of two more shacks before landing sloppily on the dirt path. He dusted his pants off and shook himself around. He tightened up the loose bandages around his hands. He stopped for a minute to observe the burn marks covered up by the bandages. His hands never healed fully from that day of his childhood. He never understood why. They never really hurt unless the bandages were off, the skin on his wrists was fine. He went to many doctors to try and find a way to fix it but they all had the same answer. No one knew. He sighed again, this time long and deep and full of sadness. As he was about to swing around and head back home, a bald wrinkly face stuck it’s head outside of the shack right behind Scott.

“Ay y’ol sonofabich, stay off my ‘ouse! I’ont care if yer Willow’s husban’ er not, you’r still be the same jackass yer’ve always been!” The wrinkly face screamed while spitting on every syllable it tried to say through each gap where a tooth used to be.

Scott turned around quickly and ran the direction of his house while screaming back at the old man “I’m sorry!”

Scott ran for some time and then slowed down to a slow walk to catch his breath. He’s used to people insulting him and hating him. No one has ever respected him, even after he married his beautiful wife, Willow. He has done nothing in his life to deserve this treatment, nothing that he knows about. No one yells anything specific at him, they just yell. They all seemed to collectively decide that Scott is the one they should hate. Maybe they’re releasing pent up anger about Luis because they can’t do it directly at him or his governmental rule, maybe Scott is akin to a human stress ball for everyone in the Slums. Even so, he didn’t like it. He never liked it, and everyone wants to be liked. But what can you do? Try and enjoy the life you are given, as best as you can, despite the situation you might find yourself in. Even better with the one you love. Ah Willow... If there was a leader of the Slums, all fingers would point to Willow. She’s charismatic and smart and made friends with basically everyone who lives there. She organizes get-togethers and parties and all sorts of things. No one makes big decisions without Willow’s approval. Why, out of everyone she could’ve chosen, she chose the loser of losers. It was love at first sight for Scott and Willow. They’ve been together ever since, a very surprisingly long lasting, happy, and healthy marriage. Happy enough for them to have a baby. Scott started to develop a stupid grin on his face when he thought of his soon-to-be child. Oh how happy he is to be a father, and even more happy to have one with the person he loved the most! Despite the situation they find themselves in, he couldn’t be any happier. His walk started representing his outward feelings. He started a little hop and a skip as he headed home, hearing the click of his shoes on the slabs of rock that the dirt path started slowly morphing into.

It seemed like the street he was headed down was mostly asleep, so he didn’t have to worry about muggers and such. He also didn’t have to worry about people awaking and shouting insuts and shooting dirty looks his way. He quietly crouched down and started to sneak towards his house, which was now in eyeshot. He started slowly inching his way towards his front door, which was a piece of sheet metal with a sizable cloth draped over screwed to a hinge, hanging quite pitifully from the frame. His house lays on the corner of a fork in the road. It overhangs over a small area of dirts and sits peacefully with creaks here and there as the wind shifts it around. He cracked open the entrance to the shack, with very little sound. He’s done this so many times, he knows which boards are creaky. He shifts over every floorboard, almost mechanical, across the living room and heads for their room. He approaches the entrance and pushes the cloth that hangs over the doorway to the side and looks down. He sees his wife peacefully sleeping in their bed, the sheet rising and falling with every breath. He carefully lifted up the corner of the blanket and slithered his way behind his wife’s back and made himself comfortable. He feels a wash of exhaustion over his body as he slowly falls into slumber… deep.. deep…sleep...

Scott felt a soft brush against his cheek as he awoke from his deep dream, which was surprisingly about the stars he was gazing at the night before.

“Good morning sweetie,” His wife Willow sat up and brushed a hand through his hair. She was sitting up on the bed while looking at him with a love-filled gaze

“Morning lovely!” He responded with a huge grin. “I’m going to make breakfast for us, make sure to check outside and see if the messenger brought us any milk today,” Willow said as she flung herself up with grace. She put on her usual attire; A short sleeve shirt, nice pair of dark pants, and pretty pair of slip-on shoes. Scott noticed her belly looked awfully large, an indicator of how late she is into the pregnancy. She brushed past the doorway to the bedroom and headed towards the kitchen. Scott sat up himself and noticed he never cared to change out of the clothes he wore last night, all he remembered was his shoes which were carelessly thrown to the side of the bed and that he almost tripped over them as he walked out. He carefully flung open the front door and looked around for a crate of milk. He found it and brought it back inside to his wife as she cooked. After they had their meal, they started telling each other stories and enjoying each other’s company before Scott had to head to work. He said goodbye and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading out. Scott hated his new job but it was the only one he could get at this time; working in the sewers underneath Morin. Not necessarily working around sewage, his job was to dig into dirt and make more room for more pipes for water and the likes, although he would have to move into the old and mossy 20 foot concrete pipes, that were already in their place underneath the city, to retrieve tools stashed away inside once in a while. Sometimes through the loud echoes of the workers talking amongst themselves and the clank of tools, he could almost hear conversations above, in the Inner City. Guards talking to each other, citizens passing overhead laughing and having a good time. He mostly tried to ignore these but he couldn’t help but envy them. How he wished he and his wife could bring their child into a loving world instead of slaving away in the hell that's called their ‘home’... He tried to work long hours, for the more one works, the more money and food they receive. They are watched over by the Inner City guards and tallied up by how much work they’ve done that day. Then, they are given their rewards after a long day of work.

Scott exhaled and looked on with determination. He will work very hard this day, he will earn a ton of food for his wife and soon-to-be child. He wants to be the best husband and father he can be. He will prove the people of the Slum that they’re wrong to think he’s useless or a burden in his own quiet victory. He grabbed the tools and started heading out of the tunnel again, but quickly stopped himself, for he heard a sharp noise, something so distinct yet so quiet, deep down the hole of the tunnel. He quickly looked around to see if anyone else heard that but the other workers were fast at work digging holes. He turned around swiftly to make sure the guards who were keeping watch weren't looking. They had their backs turned and were watching the bustling town of the Slums moving and talking. He turned around again and headed towards the direction of the noise, deeper down in the tunnels… deep… deep… it got so quiet he could hear his heart beating through his ears... but he could still hear the sharp, taunting noise, like its teasing him to go farther. It got very dark very quickly but there was enough light from the entrance that he could mostly make out what was in front of him. He walked for what seemed like hours until he finally stopped. He was in front of a divide in the tunnel, both on his right and left side, both going far, far into the abyss. He looked back onto the wall and noticed something red and black upon it in the shape of a circle with three marks. His eyes narrowed to get a better look. He took a sharp inhale once he recognized what it was. The deep drenched red color of the signal of freedom, and sometimes, death. It's the mark of the rebellion. He didn't know what the rebellion was called or who is in it, all he knows is it's bad news. The people of the Slum know about it though the Inner City guards. They will come down through the main street once in a while to harass people about it and inform them if they're a part of rebellion, they will be shot on sight because it’s an enemy of Luis. But.. why, of all places, was the infamous mark here? Why does Scott feel like he was led here?

....

(author's note): *tapas only lets you put 15,000 characters so I have to split it up sorry!*