[hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=6ecff6][center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=World%20Narrative&name=Arizonia-Regular.ttf&size=100&style_color=6ecff6[/img][/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr][center][@Scallop] [@POOHEAD189] [@Sigil] [@Morose] [@Dragoknighte] [@DizzyIsabella] [@Charnobylisk] [@Kingfisher] [@Xtreme] [@Nallore][/center][hr][hr]

	The block party is finally fully underway as the sun begins to set in the west. This time of the year though, the setting of the sun takes time. It isn't the quick set of winter, it is the long drawn out fall of summer. The hues of war break out over the city and as the shadows elongate over spaces between the towering buildings above the sirens can be heard off in the distance. The nightly song of Justice has begun but for you it is being drowned out by the Dj and her mix of [url=https://youtu.be/Z-LyvotnXBA]various tunes[/url]; both old and new. 

	Maybe it is serendipitous that the most recent song on her play list is a reworking of R.E.M's [i]Losing My Religion.[/i] Something about the lyrics, [i]consider this, the slip that brought me to my knees, failed. What if all these fantasies come flailing around. Now I've said too much,[/i] are eerie in this setting as the melancholy tune is revved up by the base drumming; causing the bodies of many of the block parties guest to sway back and forth. Guy sipping their beers while girls are in a huddle letting the dance move them. The night has not even yet to begin. Perhaps you wonder how many have lost their religion, their hope, their faith, on these city streets. Did you?

	The lighting provided by the Dj's set up seems to be worthless right now. Even though the sun is setting the light cutting down the main street in front of Boston Heights is nearly blinding if you were to look directly at it. Hopefully it will set fully soon, hopefully it won't. The darkness of Justice is never a safe place and it has been proven time and time again that a crowd provides no safety. Safety in numbers is a myth. What safety can be found when all eyes are peeled and yet everyone is blind? None. Mores the pity. 

	But hey, what do you care? The party is jumping. The food is being dished out. The drinks are poured. People are talking amongst themselves and mingling with others. It is time to get to know your neighbors. The news crews are still posted at the barricades, though they look bored. What, a party without a problem isn't worth your time? Doesn't the city deserve a night off on at least one street from the chaos? Don't you already have enough to report on? Apparently they are always looking for one more thing to twist and weave into what they wish it to be. 

	Standing at the northern barricade is someone who seems to be tired of being pestered by the news crews. If you lived in the apartments six months ago when the girl committed suicide you would have been forced to speak with him. [url=http://i.imgur.com/CMij7ns.gif]Det. Roy Gregory[/url] is there, looking out over the crowd; repeating his standard "No comment" to the press as if he is a broken record. He was there after she was pronounced dead, head of the investigation until it was deemed a suicide. He spoke to everyone in the building, asking if anyone noted anything off with the young girl that evening at that nights block party. Not surprisingly, no one came forward to say anything. Everything was fine. 

	"I said no comment, are you fucking deaf?" Det. Gregory barked finally, losing his cool a bit after being asked yet another question. Jumping over the barrier, he pushed through the crowds and made his way over to the nearest table that had a drink. Picking up a shot glass he tossed it back quickly. Swallowing hard as the liquid burned the back of his throat. "Damn parasites," he muttered under his breath.