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“This place has seen every kind of war: racial, gang, family, and something older that don't speak with words.”

Location: Southwest corner of Loomis and Garfield Blvd, across from Sherman Park
Established: 1894
Access: Public, but volatile
Connected Factions: ICB, Crown Sons, Southside Sinners, New City fixers, West Englewood oldheads

Description - Exterior

A squat, brick tavern with blackened windows and a sun-warped sign that just reads “BOUNDARY.” It looks like it was dropped there before the rest of the block was built and refuses to leave. A lone light buzzes above the door, and there’s always a figure in the alley, watching—whether it’s a lookout, a beggar, or something worse, no one’s ever sure.

Description - Interior

Wood-paneled walls soaked in generations of beer, sweat, and blood. Two pool tables, one jukebox with a broken selector, and a mirror behind the bar that cracks differently for every person who looks in it. The back booths are shadowy, deep, and perfect for hushed threats or handshake deals. Bullet holes are patched but not painted. Veil-warped graffiti in the men's room glows faintly when the lights flicker.

History

The Boundary has stood longer than any crew that’s walked these blocks. It served Irish rail men, Polish butchers, Black steelworkers, and gang soldiers of every flag and stripe. It has hosted sit-downs between mortal enemies, breakdowns in peace talks, and at least four known shootings that never made the papers. Some say it sits on a fault line—social, spiritual, or something stranger.

Owned By

Technically owned by the surviving children of "Old Man Vess,” a bootlegger who vanished in ’41. In practice, it runs itself—bartenders come and go, but the keys are never lost.

Run By

Nolan Vess – stoic, half-blind bartender with a flask full of secrets. Claims to be Old Man Vess’s grandson. Everyone assumes he’s lying, but no one questions him twice.

Employees

• Junebug – former Crown soldier turned barback, mostly silent but listens too well.
• Cicely – weekend bartender and off-books medic, works both sides when the shooting starts.
• "Dollface" Ricki – jukebox fixer, rumored to have a gun stashed in every booth.

Regulars

• ICB lieutenants posturing in the north booth.
• Crown Sons praying or plotting in the back corner.
• Retired Outfit men who just want to drink in peace—but always have one eye open.
• Southside Sinners running low-level ops through parked cars out back.

Notes

• The lights dim every time a weapon crosses the threshold—but only for the person carrying it.
• One of the booths stains red every full moon. Nobody sits there unless they mean it.
• There’s a trapdoor behind the bar that leads to a storage cellar... and maybe something else.
• Sometimes the jukebox plays songs that haven’t been recorded yet.
• There’s a name scratched into the bar in six different languages. Nolan won’t let anyone sand it off.