Follow the Neon-Lit Road

In the hushed sanctum of Dr. Ezekiel Thorn's underground lab, a new day dawned with a quiet intensity that mirrored the city it existed beneath. Nyx had spent the night entwined with the good doctor in the throes of carnal passion. That business was finished, however, a new mission on her mind. Finding solace amidst the soft hum of machinery and the bluish glow of holographic displays, Zeke had been an anchor of solidarity for her. She counted herself lucky to not be going about this crusade alone. The lab had become a refuge, a place where scientific marvels and revolutionary secrets coexisted.

Nyx stirred from her makeshift bed. This worn leather couch that had become her companion on many nights was akin to a child's teddy bear. Her eyes, crimson orbs that held a depth of secrets and a spark of defiance, blinked open to greet the new day. A faint smile graced her lips as the memories of the previous night's passions and camaraderie with Dr. Thorn flooded her thoughts.

In the dimly lit lab, she stretched her lithe frame, the subtle flex of her muscles a testament to her agility and strength. A battered duffel bag lay at the foot of the couch, its contents carefully organized—a change of clothes, a few gadgets of her trade, and a holographic interface for quick data transfers.

Rising gracefully, Nyx moved to the lab's compact bathroom, her steps echoing in the confined space. The sound of running water soon filled the air as she indulged in a brief shower. The warmth of the water cascading over her skin was a luxury seldom enjoyed in her line of work, a brief respite from the relentless pursuit of justice.

Emerging from the bathroom, Nyx's attire had transformed from the leather-clad vigilante to a more practical ensemble—a form-fitting black jumpsuit that provided both flexibility and protection. She fastened a utility belt around her waist, securing an array of tools and devices that would prove invaluable. Today marked her next step toward taking down Victor Kane and his Neon Reverie.

The lab's holographic displays flickered to life as Nyx approached, her fingers dancing across the interface. Late the night before she had initiated a data transfer from her holodock to Dr. Thorn's system, sending him the list of names she had extracted from the unfortunate thug whose balls were likely still nailed to a chair. Information was power in Neovista Bay, and every lead, no matter how small, had the potential to unravel the intricate web of corruption that ensnared the city.

"Zeke, did you sort out that list I gave you?" she called out, her voice carrying through the lab's subdued ambiance.

"I've kept an eye out for any connections or patterns," Dr. Thorn's voice resonated from a nearby workstation as he acknowledged her message. "I've started cross-referencing these names with the data we have. Hopefully, I can get more soon but for now, all I have is something on this 'Slayde' character. Originally I thought it to be a codename but, it turns out it's the name of this ugly bastard."

At that, the face of a man illuminated Nyx's with false light. Slicked-back jet-black hair framed his face, the shine of pomade giving it an almost otherworldly gleam as even in this still image a halo of neon cast down its ever-present glow. His sharp widow's peak added to the slick, retro aesthetic, casting shadows that danced across his angular features. With dark, hooded eyes that held a deep shade of blue, they served as minor distractions to the scars that littered his face. Most notably, a sweeping visage of melted flesh. Clearly, this man had been horrifically burned at some point in his life.

"Gross. This poor bastard probably couldn't get laid, even if he paid!" Nyx commented callously, which prompted a chuckle from Zeke. He responded with amusement.

"Funny, because he's the owner of a club. Alcohol and women serve as his trade of choice. How appropriate for a sleazy T-Bird wannabe."

"Hmm, you're such a retro nerd."

"Heh, sorry. It's a movie from-"

"Shh, hush cutie. It's only cute when you blush and take it," Nyx teased.

"Hey, I'm more than a- Oof!"

Nyx giggled as she watched Zeke bend at the waist, nursing his stinging nuts which had just received a quick, light-hearted backhand. "That's better. Now, I've got to go, catch you later, Zeke~!"

---

The first rays of sunlight painted the city's towering skyscrapers in shades of rose and gold, their gleaming glass surfaces reflecting the fractured dreams of its denizens. The streets, once shrouded in the obsidian cloak of night, now basked in the soft, diffused light of morning. The neon signs that adorned every corner, like cryptic hieroglyphs, blinked into temporary hibernation, their vibrant messages temporarily muted.

A smile found its way to her face. It wasn't often Nyx got to see the city this early in the morning, most of her nights were late and she kept to the shadows as much as possible. The sprawling arteries of the Bay's city streets awaited her; Neovista Bay was a labyrinth of desires and dangers, a place where secrets whispered in the shadows and the city itself pulsed with a rhythmic heartbeat of its own.

Somehow the wonder of the sun's light didn't reach this awful corner of the city, a harrowing thought that even the bright of day couldn't illuminate the darkest holes of Neovista. With a trepidatious sigh, Nyx pursed her lips together in quiet sadness. A mental promise to clean up the city was all it took to bring her resolve back, a grin cracking across her face. The entrance to Slayde's underground club "The Ebon Orchid" was tucked away from the open streets, a faint hum of music and laughter seeped through the cracks, enticing any who walked by.

The neon-illuminated door felt like it might've been a better fit for a grander location. It spoke to the business that was being done here, being so bright and glamorous despite its locale. At the entrance stood a frightful, imposing presence. The hulking figure of a man, his silhouette imposing against the dimly lit alley with the neon glow of the vibrant entrance at his back. He wore a tailored suit that seemed out of place amidst the urban decay, and his bald head gleamed under the fractured neon lights. Nyx approached with caution, her senses on high alert.

"You ain't gettin' in," the man rumbled, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the narrow passage. His arms, corded with muscle, crossed over his broad chest, forming an impenetrable barrier. "Club's closed, girlie."

Nyx regarded him with a mixture of defiance and curiosity. She was no stranger to obstacles or hindrances, and this man, imposing as he was, was merely another challenge to overcome. Her lips curled into a sly smile, revealing a glimpse of her determination.

"Is that so?" she purred, her tone laced with a subtle challenge. "And who might you be to deny me entry, hm?"

The man's response was a slow, deliberate step forward, closing the gap between them with an intimidating and harmful intent. He leaned in close, his dark eyes locking onto Nyx's with an intensity that would've sent a shiver down the spine of most anyone who dared to cross his path. He patted his waistband, drawing attention to a blaster's grip. This caught her attention, an impressed eyebrow quirking upwards in recognition.

"I'm the bouncer," he rumbled, his voice a low, seductive rumble that held a hint of danger. "And I decide who gets in and who don't. You don't."

Nyx met his gaze unflinchingly. She had a knack for finding herself in situations where she was underestimated, and she used it to her advantage. Her eyes flit back down to the blaster grip in his pants. "Tell me, how did you get your hands on one of those? NeoBlasters were outlawed years ago and every manufacturer has been out of commission for over a decade. I thought most of them had been confiscated by now, yet here you are with one!"

The bouncer's brows furrowed, his sneer could send an alligator running back to the swamp. "Don't answer to you, lil' missy. Mind your business, 'fore I have to show you what the rest of it looks like."

A glimmer almost lit up Nyx's eyes. She *loved* this guy. Men like this always were the most satisfying to put down. She slapped on a hurt face, pouting as if this brute had kicked her dog. "Hmph, and here I was thinking you were going to show me something thick and large," she cooed, teasing the man with an intoxicating allure.

The man's eyes widened for a moment before he thought better of his first idea. "Sorry, little lady. I'm not letting you in 'ere, no way no how. I get plenty of whatever it is you've got from the girls inside."

Nyx pouted for real a little this time, mostly perturbed that this meathead was being such a pain in the ass. "Well, could you at least tell Slayde I'd like to talk to him?"

"Slayde don't talk to nobody he don't want to talk to," he grumbled, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Nyx had a way of weaving through the city's secrets, and her persistence was a force to be reckoned with.

Nyx leaned in closer, her lips brushing against the shell of the bouncer's ear, her breath hot against his skin. "Would you like to see something special?" The bouncer's eyes widened again, the charm and audacity of Nyx's persistence was beginning to wear the big guy down. Of course he wanted to see, what he presumed to be, her tits.

The bouncer hesitated for a moment, torn between his duty and the allure of Nyx's proposition. Finally, he stepped back, his resolve weakening. "Alright, sugar tits. Show me what you've got," he grumbled before crossing his arms over his chest once again. A slight slick of salivation wetting his lower lips, which he licked away quickly.

Nyx watched with a satisfied smile. She knew that the city had a way of revealing its secrets to those who were willing to dance on the edge of danger. She eyed him up and down, taking in his impressive size and mass. Even the well-fitted suit he wore didn't properly situate his swelling rod, he was already fantasizing about her in the nude and it was pitching a tent in his slacks.

"I've got this trick, right?" she started to say, twirling her back to him and unleashing her ponytail to grant her some allure. The long, black locks spilling over her shoulders like a cascade of liquid silk. She flashed him a smile with a back turned look, she beckoned him to come closer, offering him the chance to unzip her bodysuit. The man was surprised at this, unfolding his arms to take a single step forward before-

"Ohhh, fuuuck!" the man squealed, looking down to see the heel of her boot stuck firmly between his thick, meaty legs. For all his bluster, his demeanor quickly shifted once Nyx buried her heel into his fat nuts. "You bitch," he squeaked, noticing his voice had gone from a rough tone to about two, maybe three, octaves higher.

As Nyx let her heel fall from his bashed-in testes, she commented aloud something that made the man pale. "Damn, I think they're so fucking thick it didn't go up all the way. I think it's trapped between the bones, better hit it again to ensure it gets stuck up there."

All he could do was hand his mouth open. "Wha-?" But he was cut short as a sickening thud filled the alleyway and the howling of a wounded animal erupted within her eardrums. The second kick was blindingly quick. In the time it took for the man to blink, she had dropped her foot from the first and pistoned it back up between his legs to cram the wedged testicle through his uprights. It stuck into his pelvis, almost acting like a second stomach. He sobbed as he sank to the concrete below, squirming and kicking his legs relentlessly as the pain was unlike anything he'd ever felt.

"Ahh, there it goes. Fucking fat set on you, yeah?" Nyx asked with a cold, callous indifference to his suffering. She walked over to him and quickly relieved him of his NeoBlaster, smirking to herself at the acquisition of such a rarity.

"Help me, please... Get it back down!" squeaked the once hulking mass of masculinity, now reduced to a puddle of pathetic, mewling pain.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I don't really care about that, but I tell you what. I can help you forget about that pain in that nut, if you like?"

"Yes, please! Anything! Do you have SynapSear?" he begged through tear-filled eyes, still writhing in unknowable agony.

"Fuck no! But I do have this!" With that, she shot the newly acquired blaster into the man's crotch. A flash of neon filled the alley, a pitched whistle erupting from the barrel of the blaster. A white-hot beam lanced through the man's slacks leaving behind a bloody, flesh-singed mess as he shrieked horrifically at the pain. His bald head was bloodied from all the thrashing and squirming he had already been doing, but he didn't notice as the worst pain was far south of the border.

"Anyway, I'm going inside now," she said before striding passed the sobbing shell of a man, letting herself into the club. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire, I suppose. Time to find out what this Slayde twat knows. With any luck, I'll be done by lunch!"

With that, Nyx wandered into the club with a smile on her face. It was a bit eerie, the quiet of a usually busy club during the hours it wasn't serving women and alcohol to its patrons. Business hours wouldn't be anytime soon, so security and patronage should be at a minimum. *Should make for easy prey*, Nyx thought to herself as she waded through a heavy curtain. When she came to the other side, a blinding amount of neon clouded her vision before something hard struck her cheek. There was only one thought passing through her mind as the neon faded to shadow.

"Well shit."