“It used to be a park. Now it’s a perimeter. You walk in, you better know who you're walking for.”
Established: 1905
Access: Public (unofficially controlled)
Connected Factions: ICB (primary), Hooded Lads (underground), CPD (sporadic patrol)
Description - Exterior
A rough patch of green wedged between warehouses, alleys, and trap blocks, Cornell Square has become less a city park and more a contested border. The iron fence is half torn, graffiti tags outnumber park signs, and the grass has more bare dirt than green. The cracked basketball court is ICB-claimed ground, but corners of the park shift depending on the hour, the weather, or who lit the last bonfire.Description - Interior
Benches are splintered, swing sets rusted through, and the fieldhouse hasn’t seen official maintenance since ’49. Inside, the boilers rattle, the basement floods, and the Hooded Lads call it home. The trees whisper more than they should at night, and locals say something’s nesting under the sandbox near the western fence. On full moons, the lights flicker even when no one's turned them on.Public Face
Technically still a public park, officially under city jurisdiction, but everyone knows it belongs to the street. Kids still play here in the daylight—some watched by gang lookouts, others dropped off by parents who’ve stopped caring. Summer events are sometimes hosted here, though they’re often shakedown fronts or recruitment shows.What's Really Going On
ICB uses the park for corner management, product drops, and public presence. Curly’s enforcers train young hoods on the courts, and lieutenants use the rec center’s roof for spotter duty. The Hooded Lads operate beneath it all—using the abandoned boiler room for rituals, planning, and whatever Veil-marked activity centers on that blade they found. Some say the sandbox hides a portal or an old Veil crack, thin and twitching.Notables
"Lippy" Ramos – ICB’s Cornell enforcer, runs the swingset-to-bleachers with a switchblade and a fake smile.Scarf – leader of the Hooded Lads, seen tagging the northeast fence in the middle of the night.
Ms. Emelda – the last city worker who still shows up once a week. No one messes with her. No one knows why.
Det. Halloran (CPD) – plainclothes and burnt out, occasionally walks the fence line muttering to himself.
Rumors & Hooks
- The sandbox sometimes shows different footprints than the kids who played there.
- ICB is planning a ritualized beat-in under the blood moon. They need something old buried in the fieldhouse.
- The Hooded Lads lit a bonfire that burned green last week. CPD didn’t report it.
- A body turned up in the wading pool with no wounds—but every bone was shattered from the inside.
- The swings creak on nights when no wind blows—and you can hear a voice saying names backward.
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