On the outer fringe of the Warzone proper, the atmosphere of this section of Lomas is one of distrust. There is not much of a police presence in the area and crime is a reality more than a statistic. The people in this chaotic urban neighborhood seem to be rather wary and there is definitely a sense that there's not much of a community here; it's each person looking out for number one. Yes, people often hang out right on the street, and some seem surprisingly warm and friendly -- but for the most part, the general population gives off the impression they'd cheerfully stab you for a can of spraypaint.
Decaying apartment buildings, easily pierced by bars of light shooting out of the one or two unbroken street lamps, creak audibly when the wind shifts. The smaller private houses seem equally dilapidated, their fences lined with trash, their lawns sporting the latest in rusted car husks atop cinderblocks. All over the street, there are piles of old mattresses, rotting newspapers, and crisscrossed lines of laundry hung out to dry.