The Maw of Hunger
In the wake of the Seven Hour War, as the Combine solidified their grip on Earth, Japan fell swiftly. Its once densely populated cities, booming economy and rising industries, now subjugated by the Combine. City 8, constructed atop the ruined remains of Tokyo, is now on the path in becoming one of the most promising urban centers in the eastern sector. However, not all is at it seems. Beneath the city lurks a group of lost, feral, mournful, starving, ritualistic, bloodstained, whispering, forgotten souls. It began in the lower levels of a failed evacuation complex under what used to be Shinjuku Station. During the invasion, hundreds of civilians, military personnel, and civil defense units were herded underground in a desperate attempt to escape the Combine onslaught. What was meant to be a three-day shelter became a month-long tomb. Supplies dwindled. Water turned foul. The air itself grew heavy with desperation. Those who died were mourned at first—until mourning gave way to hunger. By the time Combine patrols rediscovered the site, they found only flickering emergency lights, bloodstained walls, and crude totems fashioned from bone and metal. The Combine sealed off the area, labeling it Zone MAW-8, issuing a quiet quarantine order and burying it under the city’s infrastructure.
Now, three years later, a cult-like sect of cannibalistic zealots stalk the undercity ruins, maintenance shafts, and derelict suburbs of City 8. Shrouded in the remnants of Civil Protection armor and tattered civilian clothing, they mask their faces with crude, jaw-like helmets, adorned with jagged teeth—some real, some carved from old bone or scavenged plastics. They believe the Combine's invasion was not a tragedy, but a divine trial—a holy famine. To them, hunger is not a curse. It is a sacrament, a gift that separates the weak from the worthy. The Maw’s doctrine is passed down through a council of emaciated prophets known as the Hollow Tongues, who speak in riddles and ritualistic chants. Victims are abducted from the fringes of Resistance cells or taken from unguarded housing blocks. They are never simply killed. Each is offered as a “lesson”, dissected in gruesome public rituals beneath flickering neon signage and rusted ventilation fans. Their entrails are read like scriptures. Their flesh is consumed during ceremonies.
Even the Combine fear the Maw. Patrols have vanished in sectors supposedly cleared, found days later stripped to the bone, with haunting symbols scrawled in blood across the walls: a gaping, fanged mouth. Rumors persist that some members have infiltrated the city’s lower levels, posing as refugees or deranged beggars, whispering dogma to the forgotten and lost. The cult spreads not only by blood, but by belief. To speak of the Maw in City 8 is to speak in hushed tones. Resistance fighters burn their corpses if encountered. Combine suppress information. Citizens simply vanish. And somewhere beneath the concrete and steel of the Combine's carefully controlled order…
The Maw hungers.