Shreds of an Archive

City of the New Age

A dull buzzing of lights and electronics droned on, indefinitely, always. Becoming a surety of those who lived in the City of the New Age. Dazzling colors painted the usually dull streets with a splendor that would prove beautiful even to the most dispirited individuals. The city wasn't always like this though, during the day, an overwhelming dullness consumed the landscape. The smog and pollution which roamed the sky absorbed the vast majority of the sunlight, leaving the city indefinitely gray and dark. Or, at least, it would stay that way until the night lights kicked in.

The City of the New Age was the perfect utopia. That's what the richest of the rich say. In reality, It's filled to the brim with garbage- sitting and gathering in piles, mounds that would become taller than buses at some points, stray dogs and rats often dug through them. Murder and crime were commonplace, not a single place in the city having the comfort of knowing you would live until tomorrow. But the worst thing was the corpses. Sitting, emitting a putrid, rotting stench swarming with maggots, until the end of the week when the Corpse Harvest took place, a large mass of men dressed in protective full body black suits, which could easily turn one of the flimsy blades fashioned by the Deranged. If anybody were to try to stand in their way, they would be efficiently, heartlessly, murdered, and added to the pile of corpses. At the end of it, the men who worked the Corpse Harvest would leave with truck beds piled high with bodies, ridding the city of its dead. Until the next harvest.

Heath groaned as he woke, a dull pain remained in his jaw where a Deranged had stuck out, clipping him with their fist. They were a nasty, unpredictable super power of the city- The Deranged were a massive, unorganized group of individuals who had given up on anything tying them to their humanity, and embraced a feral, self-preserved lifestyle. Even if that meant killing someone just to avoid starving another day.

None of this was unusual to Heath though, or anything for that matter. This was how life worked. Kill or be killed. Trust no one, live only for yourself. That's what his mom had told him. A fresh stab of grief hit him hard in the gut, the memory of his mother's death echoing a deep pain he had felt.

Being an orphan is nothing too uncommon in the New City. In fact, there were more kids orphaned than there were with parents, whether because they were abandoned or they're parents were killed. Most of them didn't live to see adulthood, and those who did were left with deep traumas of the past.

He boiled a canned meal, it was the color of porridge and tasted like piss, but he had lived on it for the majority of life so he had grown used to it. 'Protein slop' he liked to call it.

"I need you to do something for me, Heath." A voice said, low and gruff. Heath spun quickly, adrenaline kicking him into gear. He relaxed upon seeing a familiar face, burn marks covered the man's face, leaving flesh twisted and grotesque, a permanent frown was plastered onto his lips coupled with a firmness in his eyes that told of the many horrors that he'd seen.

"Y'know it's considered good manners to knock before barging into someone's house, Braith" Heath said humorously.

"Aye, well, you left it unlocked" Braith kicked the toe of his boot on the floor, returning Heath's grin.

Braith was the closest thing he had to a family member right now, something between an older brother and a father. Wrinkles creased on his forehead, formed by many nights of stress and brooding, trying to obtain the bare minimum necessary for living. When Heath was orphaned at the age of 12- which was a bit sooner than most to lose their parents - Braith had found him scrounging through garbage, searching for any scrap of food, even a morsel. He was welcomed into Braiths band of scavengers and thieves and was sent to pickpocket and rob unsuspecting individuals, an innocent face. He always turned down a job involving murder though, the thought of it making his gut churn.

"So what's the job?" Heath questioned

"A noblewomen, come down to 'Help the starved', but it's just another front to gain status in the capital, she'll most likely just be here to spit on their graves"

"Aye" The small section of the New City that was walled off of all the decay and rot, those with noble blood and mass amounts of money could make it inside, they would sit in their stuffy ballrooms and laugh at the masses of the New City, viewing them as nothing more than animals.

"I have men waiting outside, they'll tell you what to do" Braith looked him in the eyes "Do not hesitate. Make sure the job gets done" After a moment he broke eye contact, walking smoothly out the door.

To be continued...