Inside I saw an amazingly disgusting thing. The colorful, gemlike, oddities of the city exposed for what they truly are in a writhing heaving mass of greed and self worship. Glasses were full and burdens were light so what did these people care for what happened beneath the city streets and behind the plain steel walls? What did it matter to them if another star vanishes from the sky?

In their malformed and extravagant bodies they moved with a single purpose: to get what they wanted when they wanted. And as long as those wants stayed as shallow as a pool of glowing alcohol on the floor then the Republic knew they were safe. President Rossland had come and given them whatever they craved, and where he felt he would lose something if he did, he simply made them believe that they already had it. Utopia, as they call it up here.

But below these streets, away from the blinding lights and glamor, there were those who saw past the disguise of the voting button and strait into the heart of corruption. The towers of the Republic will fall. Their glowing walls will be torn down. And justice will send out its cold, blind, fist to tear down this glittering facade.