Russ left the shack with the knife hidden carefully inside his sleeve. His footsteps were light, cautious, precise. He didn't move fast, but he didn't stumble either. The Maw District unfolded in pieces around him, each part uglier than the last. Cracked windows, rusted doors, broken staircases. The buildings leaned like drunk men clutching at one another. Some had collapsed entirely. Fires burned in trash bins. The air reeked of piss, grease, smoke, and something else, something that smelled like old blood, cooked too long on metal.
Russ said nothing. He just moved.
Every few steps, he passed someone who looked halfway to dead. A man sat on the sidewalk, fingers missing, holding a dented bowl with a blank stare. A woman squatted beside a grill made from scrap, turning over strips of something that looked like meat, but wasn't. Children crept through the mud and garbage, their faces dull with hunger and grime. None of it shocked him. Not anymore.
"Hey," a voice called.
He turned his head.
A boy leaned out from behind a cracked pillar. He was small, skinny to the bone, with sharp features and sharp eyes. His face was smudged with soot and dirt. Couldn't have been older than ten, but there was something in his gaze that didn't match his size.
"You're new," the boy said.
Russ didn't answer.
"Name's Lio. I saw you come outta Gutter Row. That don't happen. Nobody makes it outta Gutter Row alive."
Russ kept staring.
"You kill someone?" Lio asked, head tilted. There was no fear in the question. Just interest.
Russ said nothing.
Lio grinned. "That's okay. Most of us wanna kill someone anyway."
Russ studied him. The boy could be useful. Or a pest. Or worse. But at the moment, he was curious. And curiosity could lead to answers.
"What's the Maw?" Russ asked.
Lio blinked. Then laughed a little. "You really are new. Maw's the part of Grimharrow nobody counts. No rules, no guards, no city left. Just gangs, freaks, and filth. Like a garbage pit nobody cleans."
"Why do people stay?"
"Because dying here's free. Leaving costs more."
Russ looked down the street. A man was twitching on the ground, curled near a barrel fire. Another man was stomping on his chest over and over. Nobody stopped it. Nobody even blinked.
"What gangs?" Russ asked.
"All of 'em," Lio said. "But the ones that run things? Gutknives, Chain Dogs, and Black Maw. Gutknives run Gutter Row. Chain Dogs got Flesh Alley. Black Maw got the tunnels, drugs, smut, kids. Anything that stinks bad, it's theirs."
Russ took the names in. He didn't care about labels. Only about structure. Territory. Power. He needed to know how things worked before he started breaking them.
"You know Brogg Harlan?" Russ asked.
Lio's expression changed. His eyes got wide. "Shh, don't say that out loud. You crazy?"
"Answer me."
Lio hesitated, eyes darting. "Yeah, I know him. He owns The Pit. It's where they send the real broken ones. The ones who don't cry no more."
"What's The Pit?"
Lio looked away. "Don't ask. Just... don't go near it."
Too late. Russ already had his path.
A scream cut through the alley. Sharp, ugly. Russ and Lio turned.
Down the road, two men were beating a teenager. One held his arms while the other smashed a club into his ribs. The sound was wet and dull.
"Thief!" someone yelled.
Russ watched. The boy on the ground was barely moving. Blood bubbled at his lips. A woman clapped. A man laughed. A drunk tossed a bottle. No one stepped in.
"See?" Lio muttered. "Nobody saves nobody here."
Russ stared.
The beating stopped. The boy wasn't moving anymore. The one with the club crouched and rifled through his pockets. Took some coins. Then both men walked away like nothing happened.
Lio sighed. "Happens every day."
Russ stepped forward.
"What're you doing?" Lio hissed.
Russ crouched beside the body. He pressed two fingers to the neck. Faint pulse. Still alive. But barely.
"Don't waste your time. He'll be dead before night."
Russ didn't answer. He stared at the bloodied boy. Not useful. Not strong. No value.
But the moment had given him something else. Not pity. Not hope. Insight.
This place wasn't broken.
It was lawless.
Every move was watched. Every weakness punished. The only law here was survival.
Perfect.
No law meant no limits. Just action. Just cause and effect. Consequences that belonged to you and no one else.
"Show [Contract]," Russ whispered.
[Current Contract: Brogg Harlan. Status: Active. Location: Unknown.]
He needed more. Info. Tools. Weak spots.
He turned to Lio. The boy hadn't run. Still there.
"You know where The Pit is?"
Lio hesitated. "Sort of. Not exact. It moves. Sometimes it's in Flesh Alley. Sometimes in the drain tunnels. They got secret doors, crawl holes, guards with knives."
Russ stood. Faced him.
"Show me."
Lio blinked. "You gonna kill him?"
"Yes."
The boy stared for a long time. Then he shrugged. "Alright."
Russ watched him carefully. Every step, every twitch, he measured it. Trust level: low. Usefulness: moderate. Risk: manageable.
As they moved, the Maw widened. Fires crackled in the dark. Screams echoed from alley mouths. Rusted signs creaked in the wind. There were markets too, but not the kind that sold food. These sold poison in bottles, powder in bags, steel in clenched fists. Cages held skin and bones dressed up as people. A man pulled a girl by the hair, face full of blood, and no one even slowed down.
Russ didn't blink.
He filed it all away. Every face, every sound, every turn.
This was a world that ran on pain.
And pain was a language he understood well.