Zylo stands beneath the broken awning of an abandoned arcade, his silver jacket shimmering with every flash of neon. Shadows cluster at his feet, the outline of a heavy duffel bag just visible. Diamond leans against a rusted motorcycle nearby, her eyes scanning the horizon where thunder rumbles low. She pulls her hood tighter, the edge sparkling with embedded LEDs. "You sure this is the right spot? Feels like a trap,"

"It’s always a trap in Neon Graves. But we need the credits," Zylo replies, voice low. A figure steps from the shadows—a broker with cybernetic eyes, his face illuminated by the scrolling code on his datapad. "Let's just get this over with," Diamond mutters, pushing off her bike.

The air crackles with tension. Zylo drops the duffel and kicks it toward the broker, his fingers flexing nervously. "No funny business. You get the goods, we get the credits," But the broker only grins, his voice distorted by a modulator. Broker: "I’m afraid your accounts have been frozen. Orders from above."

Diamond[/@ch_2] ducks behind a dumpster, her pulse pistol flashing blue with every shot.] "Zylo, behind you!" Zylo rolls aside as an enforcer’s blade slices the air where he stood, sparks flying as metal meets concrete. "We’re not dying in a gutter tonight," he growls, firing back with grim precision.

Diamond[/@ch_2] vaults onto her bike, engine roaring, the taillights forming a crimson trail in the storm.] "Get on! Now!" Zylo leaps onto the back, clutching her waist as they race past shattered storefronts and flickering lamp posts. The night swallows their pursuers, leaving only the echo of sirens and the distant thrum of city life.

Zylo collapses against the wall, breathing hard, his jacket smeared with grime and blood. Diamond paces the room, wiping rain from her face, her eyes flashing with anger and fear. "We need a new plan. Neon Graves doesn’t forgive mistakes," "We’ll find a way. We always do," Zylo replies, the city’s neon glow painting hope and desperation across his face.