Kael Varyn's last memory was a chaotic blur: the screech of tires, a blinding flash of headlights, and the cold pavement of Chicago's warehouse district rushing up to meet him. He'd been 28, a hacker with quick fingers and a quicker mind, sprinting with a stolen USB drive—corporate secrets worth a small fortune. The truck had come out of nowhere, its impact a certainty. He'd braced for the end, expecting pain or darkness. Instead, he woke up 'here'.
Rain pelted his face, cold and sharp, soaking his dark hair. Kael lay sprawled in an alley, the ground slick with puddles that shimmered with neon light—blue, pink, violet. His head pounded like he'd been clubbed. Groaning, he pushed himself up and froze. His clothes were different. The worn sneakers and hoodie he'd worn in Chicago were gone, replaced by a sleek leather jacket, dark jeans, and boots laced with faint, glowing threads. He patted his pockets: no phone, no wallet, just a set of slim metal tools—lockpicks, maybe?—and a crumpled note.
"What's going on?" Kael muttered, his Chicago accent thick with confusion. He unfolded the note, its ink smudged but readable: "Vault. Wall Street. Starlit Veil. Tonight." The words were cryptic, urgent, stirring a flicker of unease in his chest.
He stood, wincing at the ache in his bones, and scanned the alley. This wasn't Chicago. Towering skyscrapers loomed overhead, their glass surfaces pulsing with neon light, as if alive. Floating signs—holograms—drifted in the air, flashing phrases like "Nexus Credits" and "Skyline Deals." The city buzzed louder than home, a hum that prickled his skin like static. Kael rubbed his arms, trying to shake the sensation. Something was wrong—very wrong.
"Am I dead?" he whispered, his breath misting in the damp air. He pinched his arm—sharp pain, no dream. His mind raced, replaying the truck's roar, the blinding light. This place felt like those stories he'd read online—people flung into other worlds after dying. But that was fiction. This was too real: the cold rain, the neon glow, the buzzing air sinking into his bones.
Footsteps splashed behind him. Kael spun, fists up, instincts honed from years of dodging trouble in Chicago kicking in. A man approached, lean and about 30, with messy dark hair and a glowing tablet in his hands. His grin was casual, like they were buddies, but his eyes were sharp, studying Kael.
"Whoa, Kael, relax," the man said, raising a hand. "It's just me, Toren. You look spooked."
Kael kept his fists raised. "You know my name. How?" His voice was low, laced with suspicion. This guy was a stranger, yet "Toren" tugged at something in his mind, like a memory he couldn't place.
Toren's grin faltered, his brow furrowing. "Uh, because we're partners? Kael Varyn, my lock-breaking genius? We've got a job tonight. You okay? You're acting off."
Kael's gut twisted. "I don't know you. I'm not from here. Last I remember, I was in Chicago, running from a job. A truck hit me." His voice cracked, the memory raw—metal crashing, light swallowing him. "I should be dead."
Toren's eyes widened, then softened, like he was solving a riddle. "Chicago? Never heard of it. You're in the Crown Nexus now, Kael. Think New York, but flashier. Let's get out of this rain, figure it out. You trust me, right?"
Kael didn't trust anyone. Orphaned at 15 after a fire took his parents, he'd survived on wits and code, not faith in strangers. But Toren's concern seemed real, and Kael had no better leads. "Fine," he said, lowering his fists. "But you're explaining everything."
Toren nodded, leading him out of the alley. They stepped into the city, Kael's boots splashing in puddles that mirrored the neon skyline. The streets thrummed with life—hovercars hummed overhead, people in shimmering coats hurried by, some with tattoos that glowed faintly, like embers. Kael blinked, sure he'd imagined it. The air buzzed stronger now, a vibration that sank into his chest. He caught a woman's glance—her eyes flashed blue, then dulled. His pulse quickened, skin prickling.
"What is this place?" Kael asked, sidestepping a man whose briefcase hovered an inch off the ground. "It's not normal."
Toren chuckled, though it sounded forced. "The Nexus is special. Biggest city around, hub of trade and tech. The rich run it—always have. You'll get used to the buzz."
"Buzz?" Kael pressed, feeling it again, like electricity in his veins. A vendor's cart glowed without wires, its food steaming in midair. "That's not just tech."
Toren's smile tightened. "It's the city's energy, Kael. Old stuff, keeps things running. The rich use it for their toys. Don't sweat it."
Kael wasn't buying it, but he followed Toren to a dingy bar wedged between skyscrapers, its sign flickering: 'Neon Haven'. Inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of fried food and sweet smoke. Kael's stomach growled—he hadn't eaten since Chicago, maybe longer. Toren slid into a booth, waving at a bartender who nodded back. Kael sat opposite, scanning the room. The patrons seemed human, but oddities stood out—a man's ring sparked, a woman's drink floated. The buzzing pulsed here, like a heartbeat.
"Alright, Toren," Kael said, leaning in. "What's the Crown Nexus, and why do you think I'm your partner?"
Toren sighed, tapping his tablet. "The Nexus is home. Like New York, but bigger, shinier. People come to strike it rich, but the wealthy—bosses, we call them—hold the reins. We're thieves, Kael. We hit their stashes, sell the loot. You're my lockbreaker, best there is."
Kael's head spun. "I'm a hacker, not a thief. I crack code, not safes." He slid the note across the table. "Found this in my pocket. Mean anything?"
Toren's eyes lit up, then dimmed with caution. "The Starlit Veil? That's our job tonight. It's in a vault on Wall Street, owned by some big shots. Worth a fortune." He hesitated, voice dropping. "You pushed for this, Kael. Said it'd set us up for life."
Kael's fingers gripped the note. He didn't know "Starlit Veil" or vaults, but the words sparked something—curiosity, maybe dread. "What is it? A jewel?"
Toren shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "Something old, valuable. The bosses hoard stuff like that—rings, statues, whatever. You said this one's different."
Kael's hacker instincts kicked in. A prize this big meant risk, but also answers. If he was trapped here, he needed a thread to follow. "Tell me about the job," he said, sipping a blue drink Toren ordered, its taste sharp like candy and fire.
Toren grinned, easing up. "The vault's owned by the Syndicate. Rich, powerful, ruthless. Tonight's our window—security's light. You handle the lock, I do the tech. We grab the Veil, we're golden."
Kael nodded, plotting it like a hack—entry, bypass, exit. But the city's strangeness gnawed at him. The buzzing air, the glowing tattoos, the floating objects—it wasn't tech, not Earth's kind. He saw the bartender's hands spark as he poured, a quick flash. Kael's breath caught, but Toren didn't react.
"What's with the glowing stuff?" Kael asked, keeping it light. "The tattoos, the drinks—it's weird."
Toren's smile flickered. "That's just the Nexus, man. It's got this… energy. Old, strong. The bosses use it to stay on top. Keeps their lights bright, their cars floating. You've seen it before."
Kael hadn't, but he dropped it. He needed Toren's trust, and the job was his lifeline. As they planned—routes, timing, tech—a figure watched from the bar's shadows, cloaked, their presence heavy, like a storm brewing. Kael's skin buzzed, the air humming louder, almost alive.
Hours later, they left the bar, the neon city glowing brighter. Toren led him toward Wall Street, where the vault waited. Kael's heart pounded, his mind wrestling fear and resolve. He was a stranger, but he'd cracked systems before. He could crack this.
Then, a voice—cold, clear, inside his head—spoke: "System activated. Host: Kael Varyn. Task: Reach the Vault. Reward: 100 Points." A screen flickered in his vision, like a game HUD:
- ''Stats'': Strength 10, Smarts 15, Influence 5, Mystery 10
- ''Level'': Beginner
- ''Task'': Reach the Vault
Kael stumbled, clutching his head. "Toren, you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Toren steadied him, frowning. "Kael, you alright?"
The voice—calling itself Vox—urged: "Host, the vault awaits." Kael's pulse raced. A voice, a screen—this wasn't Earth. The vault loomed ahead, steel glinting. Then, a woman emerged from the shadows, her coat sparking, eyes like lightning.
"Kael Varyn," she said, voice cutting. "You're about to make a big mistake."