New City
Back of the Yards
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| 1 | A steam-tunnel vent exhales cold fog; a shape watches from inside. | Two ICB teens on bikes shadow you, testing your nerve before reporting up the chain. | Bubbly Creek burps black foam; a pale handprint appears on the rail and vanishes. | Old butcher hawks “blessed” knives—claims they keep the voices out. | Work whistle wails though no shift’s scheduled; men drift toward an empty gate. | Street-corner sermon whips up a crowd; pickpockets weave through the faithful. |
| 2 | Butcher Boys bagmen trade envelopes at Hogman’s Corner; a rooftop lookout taps twice. | Ashland Spur boxcar sits ajar; crates stamped with counterfeit union seals. | Grease House fumes roll across the street; shadows writhe inside the doorway. | A mangy dog leads you to a heat-shimmered patch that smells like pennies. | Quinn surveyors mark a lot after dark; corner toughs heckle and take note. | A poker hand deals itself on a crate; three unseen “players” invite one more. |
| 3 | Cornell Square lights flicker; fresh ICB chalk marks on the fieldhouse wall. | Transit House porter offers rooms “no questions” in exchange for a favor owed. | Stockyards Exchange whisper of a “quiet auction” tonight—muscle needed, no names. | Killing-Floor door pulses; distant clatter of hooves and chain. | Old Barracks showers hiss; red water dribbles from a dry spigot. | Bone-tunnel grate rattles; a child’s voice calls a name that isn’t yours. |
| 4 | Sherman Park corner boys argue ICB vs Crown Sons; deal about to sour. | Rocket Soda Shop back door: Bulls unload packages; their lookout is too eager. | Packers’ Row office safe stands open; papers rustle in a wind that isn’t there. | Shiv-Shed hammer rings; smith wants a drop of blood as payment. | Stock truck with a false floor; driver needs a guide past a surprise checkpoint. | Union-hall bulletin calls a flash strike; two quiet Outfit men “suggest” a delay. |
| 5 | Muffled scream from a sealed boxcar; the cargo stamp reads “rendering.” | Men in tidy suits measure a lot at midnight; they leave no footprints. | An exhausted yardsman collapses; his sweat smells of tallow and river rot. | Fire escapes whisper like chains; something unseen paces one floor above. | Parish priest burns paper sigils in an alley; begs you to carry a bundle to a crypt. | Two cousins feud over a butcher stall; one’s hand drifts toward a hidden sap. |
| 6 | Odd-hour line at Debi’s Diner; someone inside pays cash for “good stories.” | A freight spur “rings” with no train due; standing on it makes your teeth ache. | Lost kid with a shiv: “My brother went under the pens.” He wants help. | A veal hook swings in still air; whispers offer protection for a price. | Night watchman sells a ring found in the scalding pit—it’s cold as ice. | Thick fog smelling of bleach and blood rolls in; silhouettes move against the wind. |
Canaryville
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Rooftop whistle; two local boys signal—your path crosses their lookout route. | O’Malley’s door opens; Fear-Crew lieutenant sizes you up for trouble or a favor. | St. Patrick’s sacristy boy drops a rosary made of iron nails. | Funeral-home black car idles; an Outfit mourner wants an escorted “meeting.” | The Ivy Shrine pulses; prayer ribbons twist and whisper a wrong name. | Cracked Mug bartender swears the wall remembers your face; offers a forgetting drink. |
| 2 | St. Adalbert’s Lot echoes with a ghost scrimmage; a leather ball rolls to your feet. | Two parish men argue catechism; brass knuckles glint in a coat pocket. | The Boundary Bar bouncer declares neutral ground; inside, rivals play darts with knives. | Rooftop stash booby-trapped with bells; a kid watches from a clothesline. | Whisper Row swallows a shout; you hear a different voice answer. | A wake spills onto the sidewalk; a package “for the widow” goes missing. |
| 3 | O’Toole Field lights burn cold; chalk lines creep like ivy. | Parish cop trades a rumor for a small courtesy and a name he can use later. | Choir at St. Luke’s goes off-key; a second voice sings from inside the pipes. | A brick tied with string bears a prayer and address—“deliver it and don’t look.” | Pigeons form a ring around a dropped razor—fresh blood, no cut in sight. | Boy-scout troop marches by; their shadows march the other way. |
| 4 | O’Malley’s back-room card game; one seat is “reserved,” maybe for you. | Corner crew tests strangers—“What’s Canaryville for a loudmouth?” Answer carefully. | Ivy snakes up a power pole toward a tin scapular; it hums softly. | Priest requests a discreet escort between parishes—no questions. | Whisper Row ends at a blank wall; chalk sigils flare, then fade. | Undertaker’s apprentice quietly sells burial clothes with stitched-in pockets. |
| 5 | Stacked milk crates hide a Thompson; an old-timer wants it gone before dawn. | Street-shrine statue sheds a tar tear; a bystander makes the sign of the cross wrong. | The Boundary’s jukebox plays a funeral song from twenty years ago. | Parish-league boxer offers to spar; he fights like he’s holding something back. | Flatbed of construction gear rolls by; Quinn men ride shotgun, unsmiling. | Candlelight procession turns down an alley and vanishes; cold candles remain lit. |
| 6 | A mother tosses a bucket from a stoop—no water hits the ground. | Two cousins swap a ledger at a meat market; names cross parishes and crews. | Rooftop walker challenges you to race a block; loser answers a hard question. | Cracked Mug mirror shows you ten years older—with a fresh bruise you don’t have. | Church bell rings thirteen; doors lock themselves for a minute. | Teen crew runs a “toll” on a footbridge; the leader wants stories, not cash. |
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