“They say the Devil never came to Chicago—‘cause City Hall made him file paperwork first.”
Description - Exterior
The building rises like a monument to bureaucracy—four hulking stories of neoclassical stone, squatting wide and smug on a whole city block. Fluted columns line the upper floors like guards at attention, and the bronze doors are always dirty, always heavy, as if they’re meant to keep secrets in more than keep people out. Pigeons strut the ledges like they know what goes on inside.
Description - Interior
Marble echoes and stale cigar smoke cling to every hallway. Long corridors stretch like veins through the body of the beast—lined with wood-paneled doors, yellowed maps, and clocks that tick two minutes slow. Light filters through dusty transoms, catching the gold on alderman's lapel pins and the cold gleam of eyes that have seen too much. The deeper in you go, the stranger the air feels—like the building remembers things you’d rather it didn’t.
History
Completed in 1911, Chicago City Hall has seen more graft, scandal, and sudden disappearances than a noir novelist could dream up. Once a symbol of civic pride, it’s now the beating, rotting heart of a city at war with itself. From ghost-led strikes to Veil corruption inquiries sealed “for the public good,” this place has always been more than just stone and steel.
Owned By
The City of Chicago—officially. But ask anyone on the street, and they’ll tell you it belongs to whoever’s greasing the right palms this season. Right now, that’s Alderman Francis Quinn (3rd Ward) and his allies, but every office tells a different story.
Employees
- Ruth "Red Ink" Mancini – Clerk with a memory like a steel trap and a drawer full of blackmail.
- Charles Yates – Custodian who’s been here 40 years and swears he’s seen ghosts in the sub-basement.
- Irene Kowalczyk – Receptionist for the mayor’s office, hands out smiles like coupons—expired and hollow.
- Junior Price – Records runner, always sweaty, always listening.
- Detective Calvin Ross (CPD, Political Crimes Division) – Has an office here no one admits exists.
- “Ma” Davina Lucey – Coffee cart vendor, knows every secret and never pays rent.
Regulars
- Alderman Francis Quinn – Holds court like it’s the Roman Senate, only drunker.
- “Slick” Jerome Lott – Fixer with more passes than a train yard.
- Cece Fields – Campaigning in the halls even when she’s not on the ballot.
- Reverend Elijah King – Says he’s here for the people. He’s not.
- Joey Knuckles – Makes deliveries. Sometimes envelopes. Sometimes threats.
- Archivist Celeste Reign – Veil investigator, never looks up from her papers.
Notes
- A secret Veil ward beneath the basement has been sealed since 1924—until recently.
- Every mayor since 1932 has had a private consultant who never appears in payroll records.
- The ghost of a 1919 labor agitator appears outside the elevators on election days.
- Multiple aldermen owe favors to Joe Bagels, but none dare admit it out loud.
- Someone has been tampering with building blueprints—new passageways appear that don’t exist on file.
- PCs could find leverage, information, or enemies here… if they know where to knock.
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