After mindlessly walking for about an hour, he eventually ran to an area where there were no longer any large crowds and no ridiculously loud music. He placed his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. He didn’t understand himself, if he was healthy was again, why was he so bothered by being in large crowds? Just because he fainted in large crowds in the past shouldn’t have meant that panic attacks should occur. Perhaps there was a lot he didn’t understand about anxiety, trauma, and mental health.

  He looked around the environment that he previously ignored. His eyes were greeted by an old worn out neighborhood. Some of the houses were slanted and the vehicles appeared to have been from two decades ago. The streets and buildings were riddled with cracks and many of the street lights appeared to be flickering. Some of the buildings were also decorated with bullet holes.There was no mistaking, he was in the “ghetto,” of Amani. His privileged eyes were previously ignorant of those impoverished streets.

  He couldn’t help but be blown away by what he was seeing before him. How could the nice part of the city look so great, yet the ghetto the complete opposite? It was such a bizarre contrast.

  He walked past a group of people who were sitting in rusted foldable chairs in the front of a damaged house. They were all smoking cigarettes… or something “else.?” Their clothes were oversized and riddled with dirt and grime.

  The more he stared, the more annoyed the group of people appeared to be. It seemed they were all angry at him, he wasn’t sure if it was hatred or simple annoyance from unwanted stares.

  Just a moment ago, he was staring at luxury, now he was staring at chaos. Why were the people he was staring at poor… and why were the people blocks minutes away the complete opposite. Every single person he saw in that sector of the city were Baharians, with a few exceptions.

  As he walked near rundown stores, he began to see more people walking around him. Some people were standing outside the stores chatting, loudly. Their accents were filled with slang and cadences that he never heard before. Adjacent from the store, he saw a few women, dressed in provocative clothing leaning on the walls. That alongside their deep stares clearly told him that they had to be prostitutes. If prostitution was illegal in Amani, just why were they here? Perhaps because the police or heroes didn’t have a big presence there. Was the neighborhood really so dangerous that it meant avoid? Even for a superhero?

  His mind was already in awe about all of the sights he was seeing, but nothing stumped him more than what he was about to see. He turned a corner from the store and saw several bodies lying down in the middle of the sidewalk. A syringe rolled near his foot, its container glimmering with despair. Most were down like forgotten dolls in a playground. He saw one person leaning on the wall with his mouth left ajar and neck craned upward. He saw nothing in his eyes, was he even alive? If the people weren’t all slowly moving, he would have thought they were dead.

  He noticed a man kneeling down over dirty cardboards, trembling and mumbling to himself. He was rocking himself back and forth, as if it were the only thing that gave him comfort.

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  Maybe he could help, if he was somewhat coherent.

  “Hey are you okay?” Ven asked the man after walking by him.

  The man only just kept mumbling to himself—even louder actually.

  “Do you guys need a doctor?” asked Ven.

  “Leave me alone!” The man shouted almost incoherently, catching Ven off guard.

  “Ain’t nothing you can do homie,” a passerby said to Ven after the man shouted.

  When Ven stared at the passerby, he didn’t stop to chat, he simply kept walking. It was as if seeing passed out people on the streets was the norm.

  Perhaps the man was right. Medical professionals weren’t going to come to this sector anyway, or at least it didn’t seem like it.

  He looked back at all the addicts, before gritting his teeth and walking away. Was that all he could really do? Was that just a reality of inner cities? He tried to take his mind off of the sad sight he saw. Just what made all of those people drug addicts. Was life in the sector that difficult here?

  “I know why you’re here. You tryna’ buy something?” A voice uttered from behind. The man then ran sideways with Ven.

  “Buy something?” Ven obliviously asked.

  “Yeah. Got weed, and I got that other good that make you float.”

  “So you can make me like all of those passed out people I saw before?”

  “Just buy something fool.”

  “No thank you.”

  “Then fuck you!” The man angrily walked away.

  Ven didn’t let the insult get to him, someone cursing you out because you didn’t want to buy drugs is baffling anyway.

  As he kept walking, the sun began to set more. He was studying the area, annoyed that such a place even existed in the “Age of Heroes.”

  “I can give you a good time,” a voice said to Ven.

  He turned sideways and saw a young woman leaning on a wall alone smoking a cigarette. He was so busy studying his environment that he didn’t notice her until she talked. Her eyes looked emotionless and lifeless.

  “Um… I,” said Ven nervously, as he stared at her loosely dressed clothing. That was the closest he saw to ever seeing a naked woman before. How could she go out in public like that? Anything for clients it seemed.

  “Eh, Never mind… just forget it,” the woman said before putting the cigarette back into her mouth. Her blank expression did not change once. Perhaps the prostitute sensed Ven’s innocence.

  “Oh, uh, have a good day.”

  “You too.”

  He shook his head before walking forward. Just where was he walking to anyway? Hadn’t he seen enough? Now he knew impoverished people lived way different than he did, what else did he need to learn? The only reason he kept walking to begin with was due to curiosity. Perhaps it would be better to go home, being in the slums at night couldn’t be good.

  He attempted to put energy in his legs to jump away, but he couldn’t. His legs were just way too fatigue.

  Oh great, how am I supposed to get out of here if my powers won’t work? thought Ven. Sure he could call Nuru, but he’d likely get an earful from his mother. A rideshare could work, but it wouldn’t be as cool as

  Perhaps getting a little food and water would help him recharge enough to jump home. After jumping home, he would do a lot of research on the impoverished environment that he found himself wrapped around in. The people around the area appeared to all need help, but help did not seem to arrive for any of them. Why couldn’t a politician or the government do something about the slums? Why couldn’t his mother do something? Shouldn’t a billionaire be able to do anything with their money? Surely she should be able to help people on the edge of the city that she actually resides in. Maybe she tried helping before, as apparently she gives a lot of money away. If that were true, then why were there so many disadvantaged people?

  As he began to look for a store, he heard someone shriek in terror. The sound sent shockwaves down his spine. If it was a call for help, a hero, was needed quickly.