Under the Neon Sky



The neon lights of the city pulsed like a heartbeat, casting an eerie glow over the rain-soaked streets. No one dared to speak of the darkness that festered beneath the surface—the underworld of Arcadia. To the public, it was a city of innovation, where technology bent to the will of its elite. But beneath the shining towers, in the cracked alleys and hidden corners, a different world thrived. And Detective Jaxon Steele had seen it all.

Jaxon wasn’t a typical cop. He wasn’t a hero, and he wasn’t looking for redemption. He was a man of the shadows, a relic from a time when honor meant something. But in Arcadia, honor was a currency that didn’t buy you much. His world was governed by tech and deception, where every face could be a mask and every deal a trap. Tonight was no different.

His comms crackled to life as he leaned against the door of his rundown office. “Steele, we’ve got a body. Down in the Sector 5 slums.”

He sighed, staring out at the chaotic skyline of Arcadia. “Send me the details.”

The image of the crime scene popped up on his retina feed: a young woman, barely out of her twenties, her body slumped in an alley. Her eyes wide open, frozen in terror, as though she’d seen something that broke her mind before it took her life.

“What’s her name?” Jaxon asked, his fingers already moving over the data panel embedded

“Seraphine Lane. Former tech engineer. She was supposed to be working with the SynthCorp project. You know, the one they’re claiming is gonna revolutionize AI integration.” The voice on the other end hesitated. “We think she knew something she shouldn’t have.”

Jaxon’s stomach twisted. SynthCorp was a giant in Arcadia—untouchable, ruthless. If Seraphine had uncovered something about their AI program… it could explain her death. But in this city, information was power, and information always had a price.

His boots splashed through the rain as he made his way to the scene. When he arrived, the slums of Sector 5 looked like something out of a nightmare—graffiti-covered walls, rusted pipes, and abandoned cars. It was the heart of Arcadia’s decay. Yet, amidst the grime, the body stood out like a warning.

Jaxon knelt beside Seraphine’s lifeless form. She had been beautiful once, her features soft, untouched by the harshness of the streets. But her face was now frozen in a mask of terror. Her eyes didn’t just speak of fear—they spoke of betrayal.

“Tell me who did this,” Jaxon muttered under his breath, his fingers brushing against the strange symbol on her wrist. A mark—an identifier that no one in Arcadia was supposed to have.

His mind raced. He knew the mark. It belonged to a faction so secretive, so dangerous, that even the city's tech-elite feared them. They were known as the Ghosts. The ones who controlled the shadows, pulling the strings behind the corporations, the ones who used technology not just to create, but to erase.

Seraphine had been more than a tech engineer—she’d been a whistleblower. And now, her life had been snuffed out before she could expose the truth.

As Jaxon stood, a cold smile tugged at his lips. He was no hero, no shining knight. But in a city this dark, a detective like him was the only light that mattered. And someone was going to pay for what happened to Seraphine.

Arcadia had its secrets, and Jaxon Steele was going to dig up every last one of them.