New Vance City

Once a minor pressure valve facility tucked into a runoff trench at the edge of the Waterworks, the Leaky Pump Station is now a rogue lifeline for the desperate. Left partially operational after a sabotage attempt—likely from one of Valve’s own leak teams—the station drips with life-saving water. It's dirty, unfiltered, and heavy with rust, but it flows freely… for now. Word has spread among scavvers and fringe dwellers: no permits, no questions. Just bring a jug and a weapon. The Hegemony denies its existence publicly, yet whispers suggest they monitor it closely, baiting out thieves and rebels who dare sip without tribute. Some say a former Hydro engineer lives inside, keeping the pumps alive out of guilt or rebellion. To most, it’s a cursed oasis—half sanctuary, half trap. But for those too broke or blacklisted to pay the water tax, the Leaky Pump Station is the last place left to drink.

The structure squats low in a ravine of twisted pipes and overgrowth, its rounded concrete form buried in rust-streaked soil and reinforced with scavenged sheet metal. A ruptured mainline weeps from its side, spilling brackish water into a shallow trough patrolled by thirsty vermin. Faded Hegemony hazard signs hang crooked on corroded brackets, warning of contamination while bearing bullet holes from old shootouts. The interior is damp and claustrophobic—narrow hallways echo with mechanical coughing and the erratic whir of dying turbines. Dim emergency lights flicker red against pools of stagnant water and abandoned gear. Makeshift barricades of welded furniture and flood-damaged crates suggest it's been defended—poorly, but recently. Overhead, moss clings to cracked ducts, and mold veins crawl across the walls like infection. The station feels like it’s rotting in slow motion, leaking not just water, but secrets the Hegemony would rather drown.