New Vance City

Deep within the fortified belly of the Main Filtration Plant lies the Sedimentation Tanks—colossal, sunken basins where New Vance’s foul lifeblood begins its slow transformation. Raw, untreated runoff from the city’s cracked gutters, tainted cisterns, and illegal taps is pumped here first, swirling into layered pools of grime. The tanks are watched constantly by Hydro techs and guards, not just for quality control, but for intruders and sabotage. Beneath the stagnant murk, sediment—often laced with biological rot, shambler waste, or toxic runoff—gathers in sludgy strata. Dredge rigs groan across rails above, scooping sludge like clockwork scavengers, while quiet arguments echo from rusted service platforms. This place is where water is broken before it is remade, the plant’s grim foundation, and a reminder: all purity here begins in filth. Some rumors whisper that bodies, too, have settled here—rebels, smugglers, or those simply behind on their water debt.

A dim, cavernous chamber stretches wide, dominated by a series of immense concrete pits sunken into the floor. The water within each tank glistens with an oily sheen, its surface broken by occasional eruptions of gas bubbles and drifting clots of detritus. Walkways rim the basins, slick with algae and lined with rusted guardrails. Harsh utility lights flicker overhead, casting long, warped reflections across the sludge.