New Vance City

Fathom Row was designed as a major end-of-line passenger stop with wide concourses and multiple exits to surface malls. Post-collapse, all exits were sealed by falling infrastructure or deliberately collapsed by unknown forces. The station became a containment zone—only, nothing was ever contained. Now it’s a nesting ground for second-generation infected: bloated, disfigured Shamblers with swollen limbs and jaw mutations. Scav crews that venture close report constant audio feedback from the station walls—low moaning, broken speech patterns, and what sounds like breathing through radio static. The noise is directional, always focused toward anyone listening. It’s not clear if the station broadcasts intentionally or reacts to presence.

The station’s walls are layered in handprints—bloody, soot-black, and pressed in patterns that seem mathematical. The platforms have collapsed inward, forming a shallow pit littered with mutated corpses in partial decay. Escalators are frozen mid-function, bent and seized with bone fragments in their grates. Dried sewage and infected resin coat the stairs. Speakers once used for schedule announcements now emit static bursts synced with faint motion in the lights above. The ticketing area is untouched—perfectly intact but sealed in hardened flesh-like growths. A figure in a hazard suit hangs upside down from the rafters, faceplate cracked inward. A trail of scratched-out numbers loops across the walls behind him.