Quickly becoming THE place to get high quality, top-notch H in the Back of the Yards.
You don’t go to Stanley’s for an oil change—you go to make a car disappear. If it’s hot, wrecked, or needs a new soul, Stan’s got a wrench for that.
Pharmacist that has it out for the crew
Sean's buddy who works as muscle for Bagels
Steel worker and Charlie's enemy
Rich soclialite that has a soft-spot for Charlie
Sean's spiritual advisor
Ward boss friendly to the crew
A boxer and Shillelagh's enemy.
A mysterious witch that has it out for Merissa
Cab driver and Slick's enemy
Charlie's dealer
Runs a small blackjack room in Bridgeport
Owns Stanley's Garage and is Slick's friend
Former lover and fellow Veil aficionado
Gang of thugs
The guys at the social club handling your debt, the hoods down the block hassling your kid brother or the gangsters in city hall that you have to grovel to (and bribe) to get that damn pothole filled. You need to know who runs things around here.
Not every player in this city carries a switchblade—but that don’t mean they’re harmless. Cops, reporters, ward heelers, school teachers, and barkeeps—every one of 'em's got a stake in the game, and a few know how to play it better than the wiseguys.
Every block’s got a name, and every name’s got blood on it. In Chicago, you don’t just live in a neighborhood—you’re claimed by it. Lines aren’t just drawn on maps, they’re carved in brick, language, and fire. Some are changing. Some never will.
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