I lived for a few years near Dupont Circle in Washington, DC. When D.C. was the murder capital of the US and Marrion Barry was the major (the same guy caught smoking crack with a hooker in a hotel by the FBI).
Most people living there were hipsters and always seemed slightly on edge. They didn’t make enough to live in Georgetown or Capitol Hill, which had their own police.
I always thought that if anything serious went down, they’d run around and scatter like chickens, which is exactly what happens in my heavily illustrated novel The End of the World.
The U.S. falls apart, and local militias roll in to seize power.|

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As the US falls apart, local militias sweep in to take control.