“Down here, everything’s stacked—tracks over streets, buildings over bones, favors over truth. Armour Square’s quiet, but that’s just ‘cause the wise learn to whisper.”
Armour Square sits between the back edge of Chinatown and the western fringe of New City, a bruised and buried stretch of forgotten rail lines, church ruins, and Yards runoff. What was once two neighborhoods—Fuller Park and Armour Square—has long since fused into a single haunted sprawl. It's boxed in by shifting politics, ghosted industrial lots, and the kinds of places that don’t show up on maps. The air hangs thick with rust and incense, and the ground remembers everything. Even if the people don’t.
This is where butchered cattle were once processed by the millions, and where that same violence soaked into the brick, the soil, and the dreams of those who lived here. The Veil runs deep, wet, and sticky—thicker than blood and slower than time. It’s a neighborhood where even prayers seem tired. Nobody trusts the silence here, especially when the bells toll in a church that doesn’t exist anymore.
The Dan Ryan Expressway hasn’t been built yet, but surveyors and city agents have been spotted in recent weeks—locals are uneasy.
The CPD Arcane Division has flagged the entire area as a “soft boil.” They don’t patrol. They observe.
The Veil is damp, heavy, and ever-present—most residents experience chronic dreams, déjà vu, or lost time.
Several children claim to have seen their “older selves” on the Fuller Footbridge. Some walked home different.
Uncle Carm’s crew keeps an interest here through spiritual control, not force. Joe Bagels avoids the area unless escorted.
A hidden railyard switch point beneath Echo Gate is rumored to connect to “somewhere colder than here.”
No one’s successfully mapped the graffiti system around The Ring—every attempt has ended in madness or disappearance.
One old woman near St. Adalbert’s claims the bell still follows “the old clock,” not the current one.
Neighborhoods
Canal Hollow
The far east end of Armour Square, pushed up against the polluted bends of the South Branch. Cracked asphalt gives way to tilting warehouses and sunken loading docks. This is a place for smugglers, ritualists, and ghosts pulled from the water. Some say a Veil breach reopened here last winter, and what crawled out hasn’t stopped watching.St. Adalbert’s Row
A line of sagging flats and collapsed storefronts wrapped around the burned-out husk of St. Adalbert’s Church. Once a stronghold of Eastern European Catholicism, now home to Mexican families, Black spiritualists, and the haunted children who play in the alleyways. The church hasn’t collapsed despite multiple fires—and some say it’s being held up by faith, not architecture.The Ring
The blocks surrounding Armour Square Park, once considered the neighborhood’s heart—now cracked, bruised, and bleeding in strange patterns. The park hosts crew fights, mystic demonstrations, and weather that doesn’t belong. Nothing grows right, and the dirt seems to breathe.Notes
Rot clings to the concrete like prayer clings to memory—heavy, worn, and echoing. The Veil isn’t loud here, just steady. And it doesn’t forget.
| Wealth | |
| Security & Safety | |
| Criminal Influence | |
| Occult Influence |
| African American | 47% |
| Chinese American | 28% |
| Irish and Polish American | 12% |
| Mexican American | 10% |
| Other | 3% |
| South Side |
| Southwest Side |
Armour Square
St. Adalbert’s Church – Burned out but never fallen. The bell rings before death and the pews creak for ghosts.
The Ivy Pit – Foundation of a rectory swallowed whole. Whispers come from the soil.
Ng’s Apothecary – Jade-curtained shop offering remedies and remembrances, both Veil-bound.
Bessie’s Kitchen – Soul food and shotgun justice. You leave full—if you’re honest.
Echo Gate Railyard – Rusted switchyard where voices echo from nowhere—and sometimes answer.
The Rusted Bell – Dive bar where eyes glow in the mirror. Current neutral ground—tense but holding.
Fuller Footbridge – Covered in graffiti that changes when unobserved. Used to show maps. Now, names.
Canal Hollow
Echo Gate Railyard – Arch-shaped tracks that echo with voices not your own Ng’s Apothecary – Veil-tonic seller with charms and memories steeped in steam The Rusted Bell – Dive bar and current neutral ground—for now St. Aldabert's Row
St. Adalbert’s Church – Cold even in summer, its bell tolls before tragedy The Ivy Pit – A swallowed rectory foundation choked with ghost-plants Fuller Footbridge – Covered in glyphs and graffiti that shifts when no one’s looking The Ring
Armour Square Park – Burnt grass circles, haunted second base, and a bandstand that pulses at midnight Bessie’s Kitchen – Soul food, second sight, and iron judgment The Bleeding Tree – An old elm near the southeast corner of the park that weeps sap like blood every equinox
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