Brennan's Speakeasy
Shadows and smoke veil slick jazz players, their tunes the heart of this hushed haven. Murmurs of secrets curl around clinking whiskey glasses, while the rich scent of aged wood and illicit alcohol pervades the air. Run by Jack Brennan
Chicago Tribune, newspaper
The Chicago Tribune is a bee's nest of activity, buzzing with the electric energy of truth-seekers. The air pulsates with the staccato rhythm of typewriters, while discarded drafts litter the floor. Above it all, the distinct, inky scent of hot-off-the-press news permeates every corner, reminding all of their purpose. Lucy Moreno works here.
O'Sullivan's Mansion
On the shimmering edges of the Gold Coast, O'Sullivan's mansion stands like a beacon of excess. Beneath chandeliers dripping with diamonds, laughter echoes and champagne flows relentless. It's a battleground of decadence where elegance conceals cunning, each opulent room whispering tales of silent trades and veiled conspiracies.
Jazz Cat Lounge, Jazz Club
It reverberates with sultry melodies that bounce off red velvet walls. Cascading notes wrap around patrons, who lose themselves in the intoxicating pull of sax and bass. Hushed whispers and smoky laughter punctuate the rhythm, while the room pulses with enigma beneath a quilt of low, moody light. It's where Nora Kelly enchants her audience.
Sterling Manor
A behemoth of social standing perched on the Gold Coast. Grand marble arches and an explosion of topiaries command admiration. Inside, candlelight dances on polished surfaces, casting a golden glow on whispered conversations. It's a sanctuary for the city's elite, where nothing is ever quite as it seems. Vivian's family owns this manor.
Iron Fortress, Gym
Brick walls echo with the grunt of exertion and metallic clanging of heavy weights. The air is thick with determination and sweat. Here, raw strength meets grit on a gym floor where cast-iron resolve is forged under towering steel giants and the watchful eyes of fellow warriors. Tommy Malone owns and operates this gym, building his strength and trading information with other underworld menaces.
Haven Clinic, Clinic
Tucked away in shadows, it's a sanctuary of solace amidst Chicago's grit. A glowing beacon in the cold alley, it smells of antiseptic and hope. While the setup is basic, steady hands and a compassionate heart work tirelessly under the sterile bulbs, stitching together more than just wounds. Owned and operated by Isabelle Fontaine.
Lady Luck's Lair, Casino
Plush with velvet and gold, it teems with gamblers seeking fortune's favor. The air crackles with anticipation, caught between spinning roulette wheels and the decisive snap of playing cards. Glamour and vice dance a dizzying waltz here, under the ever-watchful gaze of the house. Ricky Dalton's playground.
Union Hall
A hub of fervent passion and echoing voices. Wooden floors creak under the weight of ideals and the walls vibrate with plans for a better future. It's a place of energized meetings, where determination hangs as palpable as the smell of brewed coffee and inked pamphlets. Margaret O'Hare's headquarters.
Shadow Market
A haven of hushed voices and unseen trades. An opaque labyrinth, it thrives under the cover of darkness, its secrets shared in exchanged glances and coded nods. Here, information turns currency, as valuable as the obscurity that shrouds every whispered negotiation and clandestine handshake. Run by Walt Jenkins, it's where information is the most valuable currency.
City Hall
a monument of power wrapped in stone and shrouded in veiled corruption. Hallowed halls hum with political machinations, echoing off the marble. Smoky backrooms bustle with the click-clack of typewriters and hushed conspiracies. This is where the city's future is traded in nods and handshakes.
Jeweler's Building
A towering façade of opulence that harbors Al Capone's pursuits. Inside, decadence drips from every corner, the rich mahogany and gold furnishings belying its sinister underbelly. It's a kingdom cloaked in allure, where precious stones serve as fronts for the unforgiving, smoky world of organized crime.
Docks, Shipyard
They thrum with life, a gritty maze of towering cranes and moored vessels. Seagulls screech above the salty air heavy with fish and seaweed. Amidst the frantic chaos, burly dockworkers move like an orchestrated dance, their shadows stretched long over wooden planks, concealing more than just cargo.
O'Hare's Soup Kitchen, Soup Kitchen
A beacon of hope amidst grey city asphalt. The clatter of ladles and aroma of hearty soups are testament to abiding resilience. Here, faces weathered by life's trials find warm meals and warmer smiles, transforming this humble space into a haven for the city's downtrodden.
Police Station
A fortress of forged innocence, encased in brick and imbued with questionable authority. Yellowing paperwork piles high, testament to deep-seated bureaucracy. Each uniformed figure carries an air of frustrated-justice-turned-jaded-complacency. Here, the scale of justice wobbles under the weight of overlooked crimes and manipulated charges.
Warehouse District, warehouse
A sprawling maze of timeworn edifices, their hulking silhouettes etched against the skyline. Rusty iron and chipped bricks reek of industry and decay, while shadows stretch long under the gaze of a tired moon. Here, each narrow alley and shuttered window hides stories of covert deeds.
Gold Coast
A glittering jewel in Chicago's crown. Mansions in riotous bloom with luxury vie for the lake's attention. Amid pristine lawns and ritzy automobiles, silk-draped socialites swirl champagne, their laughter threaded with hushed scandals. It's a world dipped in opulence, isolated from the city's grit.
Brigade Park
A verdant retreat carved amidst the steel symphony of Chicago. Towering trees and manicured paths hum tranquility, drawing city-weary souls. Yet, the serenity belies its true nature. Heightened whispers wind through the foliage, as shadows meet beneath the park's clock tower to orchestrate under the guise of quiet.
Black Belt
It pulses with life, a vibrant tapestry of shared stories and culture. Jazz notes spill from open windows, mixing with the smoky aroma of soul food. Amid family-run stores and spirited churches, the streets buzz with resilience and kinship. A neighborhood embodying a legacy more potent than prejudice, it offers a stark contrast to the opulence of the Gold Coast.
The El, Train
The elevated transit system: It is a city's lifeline, a serpentine beast that roars through the heart of Chicago. It's a tapestry of lives in motion; strangers pressed into fleeting intimacy. The tracks echo with the symphony of booming industry, the clatter offering an urban soundtrack for secrets shared in transit.
Pilsen District
It is a vibrant canvas unabashedly splashed with the colors of its heritage. Foreign tongues mingle with the scent of authentic cuisine, carrying tales from across the sea. Market stalls bustle amidst murals that riot with life, celebrating a community forged by dreams, nostalgia, and the promise of home.
Tenements
It stands scarred yet proud, legacy of struggle etched in every brick. Clotheslines crisscross over narrow alleyways, catching gossip and dreams in equal measure. The air hums with a cacophony of lives lived close; the relief in shaded courtyards intertwining with the silent desperation behind weathered walls. Overcrowded and impoverished residential buildings housing the less fortunate. It's a stark reminder of the dark side of the city.
Art Institute of Chicago
It is a cultural oasis, a classical facade welcoming seekers of beauty. Marble corridors resonated with whispers of critique and admiration, while art's hallowed silence spoke volumes. Here, Grecian urns rubbed shoulders with contemporary masterpieces, each canvas a silent revolution.
Biograph Theater
An enthralling world encased in brick and plaster. Its twinkling marquee promises escape into realms of laughter, tears, and intrigue. The velvet-hugged hall thrums with anticipation; whispers settle into the pressing darkness as the projector flickers to life, casting fantasies on its vast, expectant canvas.
Stockyards
A landscape stained with the grime of industry. Its air is thick with scents of livestock and ambition. Adjacent stands the Slaughterhouse, a hulking entity of steel and blood. The chilling echo of machinery mingles with the lowing of fate-sealed animals, an orchestrated symphony of survival and sacrifice.
Prohibition Office
A citadel of futile ambition against a tide of vice. In this hub of regulation, the heavy air reeks of enforcement's desperation and paperwork. Yet beneath the stern edifice, a darker symphony plays out, one that threatens to undercut the best-laid plans with well-placed bills.
Little Italy
A vibrant slice of the Mediterranean lodged in Chicago's heart. Amid rustic trattorias and tumbling laundry lines, the tantalizing aroma of tomato sauce wafts. Accented chatter spills onto the cobblestones as generations convene for a feast, their stories seasoned with hand gestures as rich as their cuisine.
Roxy Hotel
A towering emblem of Chicago glamour. Its grand lobby humming with elegance and intrigue. Crystal chandeliers glitter down on marble floors, reflecting flapper sequins and the smiles of golden-era movie stars. It's a world where old money meets new scandal under the veil of warm hospitality.
Jack Brennan, Jack
A savvy Irish-American in his late 40s, rules his speakeasy with slicked-back black hair, sharp grey eyes, and tailored suits. Thin, yet deceptively strong, he dons an inviting grin cloaked with soft-spoken charm. His lilting, low-toned Dublin accent masks his cunning evasion, making Jack the dance master of Chicago’s noir shadow-play.
Lucy Moreno, Lucy, reporter
A fiery Latino beauty in her early 30s, is a fearless truth-seeker. With her daunting hazel eyes, she cuts through lies like a hot knife through butter, hidden beneath her striking, loose curls. Her stylish, form-fitting flapper dresses show off her svelte figure and her assertive personality. Her fluent Spanish occasionally spices up her quick-witted replies. Lucy's penchant for exposing secrets makes her Chicago’s human lie detector.
George O'Sullivan, George
AKA: Gentleman. A robust Irishman in his mid-40s, bleeds charisma. Flashy suits and cravats clothe his burly frame, his honeyed laughter drawing high society like moths to flame. Yet beneath his acid green eyes and flamboyant charm, lies a calculated bootlegger evading Prohibition's grasp. His blarney, laced with a mix of Irish and American slang, masks his illicit deeds, making him the heartthrob of Chicago’s underworld masquerade.
Nora Kelly, Nora
An alluring African-American belle in her late 20s, is the siren of Chicago’s jazz scene. Veiling a disciplined spy beneath raven locks, captivating dresses and a voice dripping with sultry secrets. Her curvaceous figure sways to the rhythm of jazz, the glint in her dark eyes telling tales untold. Her smoky, soft timbre, saturated with subtle hints of a Southern accent, carries an enigmatic vibrato, making Nora the beguiling serenade of Chicago’s noir symphony.
Eddie Thompson, Eddie
An imposing English-American in his late 30s, personifies discipline. An ex-military sharpshooter turned speakeasy security, he stands resolute in his rugged style. Muscular and broad, his stern brown eyes barely peeking beneath the stylish fedora. His heavy war-born wardrobe softened by 1920's fashion nods to his dual existence. With a curt tone and direct Black Country accent, Eddie's dedication to order makes him the unwavering fortification of Chicago's illicit playground.
Vivian Sterling
A poised Anglo-Saxon beauty in her mid-30s, revels in her double-life as a socialite. Her golden locks frame cunning blue eyes, her elegance serving a power-play purpose. Slender and graceful, Vivian thrills the elite in opulent flapper dresses that whisper secrets. Her soft yet cutting British accent carries an intimidating eloquence. A queen of deception, Vivian's fashion and flair make her the silver linings in the dark clouds of Chicago's noirian mystery.
Tommy Malone
A 30-year-old hulk of Irish-American descent, leans on loyalty. A mountainous landscape of muscles and scars defines him. Dressed in tight, functional clothes that accentuate his physical dominance, his short auburn hair and determined brown eyes complete the picture. His gruff voice, peppered with Chicago slang, paired with a surprisingly gentle demeanor, make Tommy the iron fist in the velvet glove of the city’s foreshadowing noir.
Isabelle Fontaine, Izzy, Isabelle
A petite Lebanese-American in her mid-30s, thrives in the underground as a compassionate doctor. The blood-smeared look of her loose, functional attire contrasts with her soft curls and warm brown eyes, making her an enigma. A soft-spoken woman with a heavy Levantine accent, her unyielding dedication to healing stands resilient against the darker aspects of her surroundings. A beacon in the storm, Isabelle's empathy becomes the nurturing heartbeat of Chicago's noir saga.
Ricky Dalton, Slick, Ricky
AKA: Slick. A sharp Italian-American in his early 40s, is the smirking kingpin of Chicago's gambling world. His greased black hair, calculating hazel eyes and body draped in sharp, Italian tailored suits reflect the allure and treachery of the betting table. Firm and agile, the fast-paced lingo of his New York-Italian dialect attests to his risk-taker demeanor. A captivating combination of charm and cunning, Ricky is no bluff in the high stakes game of Chicago's noir theatre.
Margaret O'Hare, Maggie, Margaret
AKA: Maggie. A red-haired Irish-American firebrand in her early 40s, rallies the disenfranchised with hope. Her fiery spirit is enflamed further by modest attire, ready for action in a world embroiled in political unrest. Curvy and compelling, the honey-dewed lilt of her voice carries defiance and empathy in equal measure. A beacon in the dark underground, Margaret's unwavering commitment to justice illuminates the grimy shadows of the city’s noir battlefield.
Walt Jenkins
AKA: Whisper. An undistinguished Caucasian figure in his 50s, trades in the currency of information. His nondescript attire, shadowy presence, and forgetful face are deliberate to blend into the noir labyrinth of Chicago. Beneath his greying hair and drawling Midwestern accent, lies an analytical mind, unseen and unheard, always listening. An unseen puppeteer in this shadow play, Walt's network of whispers echo through the heart of Chicago's underground.
Wrigley Field, baseball, Cubs
A monument to America's pastime amidst a city steeped in shadows. The roar of the crowd hangs heavy over the sharp crack of bat against ball. Here, under the harsh glare of stadium lights, even the most hardened souls find escape from their noir realities.