New Vance City

Beneath the gleaming façade of the Waterworks lies one of its most volatile sectors—the Chemical Treatment Tanks. Once designed to neutralize impurities, these corroded titans now churn with unstable compounds left over from half-functioning purification cycles. The air here stings with chlorine and metallic tang, and walls drip with condensation that burns on contact. Mutated vermin and chemical-warped beasts prowl the rusted catwalks, their minds broken by exposure. Elite Hydro Enforcers patrol in sealed suits, authorized to shoot first and test later. These tanks serve as both threat and deterrent—reminders of what happens when hydration meets hubris. Some say Valve intentionally lets the area remain unstable, turning environmental terror into a weaponized border. Leaks are never accidents here. They’re warnings.

A labyrinth of towering rust-stained vats hisses and steams, their contents glowing faintly blue-green in the dim industrial light. Cracked pipes spew toxic mist that dances in shifting colors across the catwalks. Warning sirens flicker but never sound. Every surface gleams with slick condensation or scorched corrosion, as if the walls themselves are sweating poison.