The food chain in the city sewer system is simple. Sewer cannibal mutants get dibs. And mostly that's the homeless populace. Stringy, but nobody's complaining. There is also the occasional pet or diner full of cops on the menu. Mostly these underground dwellers are busy worshipping the toxic waste materials that gave them a new purpose in life.
In 1984 you could not open a newspaper without reading about what industry had quietly buried. Love Canal was six years old and still in the headlines, the term toxic waste had gone from technical language to household dread, and horror did what horror always does — took the anxiety and gave it teeth. The monsters wore rubber suits and lived under the street. Urban decay horror is the most honest subgenre of the decade: the threat wasn't a stranger in a mask, it was the city's own accounting catching up.
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