The rain had been falling for hours, turning the streets of Neon Veil into a slick maze of reflections. Every neon sign, every holo-ad flickered in puddles like shattered glass, their fractured colors bleeding into one another. Blues and purples merged with occasional streaks of pink and green, forming a chaotic mosaic that only the city could produce. Evan Cole moved through it all like a shadow—low, silent, purposeful. His hood was drawn over his messy dark brown hair, shielding most of his face, leaving only his sharp eyes visible. Even in a city full of predators and thieves, a person like Evan could disappear in the crowd.
Yet tonight, Evan wasn't just trying to remain unseen. He was carrying something dangerous. Something alive.
Floating around him were tiny shards of light, hovering midair, each one pulsing softly with a rhythm that almost synchronized with his heartbeat. At first glance, they looked like small fragments of shattered glass, illuminated from within. But Evan knew better. These were memory fragments—stolen pieces of consciousness he carried in his mind.
Some fragments were familiar: mundane scenes of people's lives, harmless snapshots of meals eaten or streets walked. But these were different. He hadn't intended to steal this one. It had been an accident—a slip of the extraction device that now hovered on his wrist, glowing faintly, resonating with the fragments. This time, he had absorbed someone else's consciousness. A person powerful enough that their thoughts screamed through his skull. And with it came visions he couldn't comprehend, fragments of warnings, images of places he'd never seen, and faces that felt like they were carved into his very soul.
He could hear them whispering. Sometimes softly, almost comforting. Sometimes sharp, jarring, cutting into his mind like shards of ice.
Evan flexed his fingers around the device, feeling its low hum against his skin. The memory shards pulsed violently in response, as if they knew danger was near. One wrong move, one lapse of concentration, and the fragments could overwhelm him. The thought made him tense.
He had stolen scraps before. Small, insignificant memories—an old man's trip to a park, a clerk's favorite coffee order. They were easy to carry, easy to sell, easy to forget. But this… this was different. Whoever the fragments belonged to had left a mark on him, and now their consciousness insisted on being noticed.
"Think, Evan," he muttered under his breath, letting the words ground him. "Focus. Just a few more blocks. Don't let them catch you."
The alleyways twisted ahead like the labyrinthine innards of some massive machine. Pipes overhead dripped water, each drop splashing into puddles with a satisfying, almost deafening plink. The air smelled of wet concrete, ozone from the neon signs, and the faint metallic tang of something unidentifiable. Every sense screamed danger, and Evan's mind raced to sort through the fragments, trying to understand what they were trying to tell him.
A movement at the end of the alley made him freeze. A figure stepped out of the mist, tall, silent, dressed head-to-toe in black. The reflective surfaces of the city made it hard to see details, but Evan didn't need them. He knew what it was: another thief, or worse, an enforcer sent to collect the stolen fragments.
"Evan Cole," the figure said, voice low, metallic, and carrying an unnatural resonance. "Hand it over."
Evan's jaw tightened. The device on his wrist pulsed brightly, feeding energy into the shards. One floated near his temple, a shard of the stolen consciousness whispering urgently in his mind: Run.
He bolted. Water splashed around his boots as he launched himself into the main street. Neon lights blurred past him like streaks of color, reflections bouncing off the wet asphalt. The city felt alive, almost sentient, responding to every movement, every heartbeat. Sirens wailed in the distance, distant but omnipresent. Vendors shouted at unseen customers, holograms of products flickered and glitched, creating a chaotic visual storm.
The shards around him pulsed wildly, warning him of every obstacle, every trap in the streets. Some were coherent, images of broken walls or alley corners. Others were chaotic, swirling colors and faces he didn't recognize. One fragment whispered a name repeatedly—Kairo…—but Evan didn't know who that was, only that it mattered.
The figure in black followed, silent but relentless. Each step it took was measured, almost inhuman. Evan glanced behind, catching just a glimpse of a mask—or perhaps a face obscured by shadow. The pursuit was close enough that Evan could feel it in his chest, a tension like static electricity running through his veins.
He ducked down another alley, one barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through. Neon signs overhead flickered dangerously, throwing light and shadow in chaotic patterns. The shards around him seemed to react, spinning in tight orbits, pulsating as if alive. One of them—an image of a child holding a broken toy—flashed brightly, catching his attention. He had no time to analyze it. Survival came first.
Suddenly, the figure in black appeared at the other end of the alley. Evan froze. No doors, no escape routes. The city itself felt like it had trapped him, turning the alleys into a funnel leading directly to danger.
But the fragments… they whispered again. Left. Jump.
Evan's instincts kicked in. He leapt to the side, landing hard on a wet fire escape ladder, metal scraping under his boots. Sparks of neon reflected off his hood as he scrambled upward, the shards around him spinning like tiny protective sentinels. From above, he could see the sprawling city—a mix of towering skyscrapers, neon chaos, and shadowed alleys. The rain glistened off every surface, creating a kaleidoscope of danger and opportunity.
He paused for a heartbeat, catching his breath. One of the fragments hovered near his eye, whispering words he almost understood: The device… trust it… the truth is inside.
Evan swallowed hard. He didn't know if he could trust the fragments. He didn't even know if he could trust himself. But one thing was clear: whatever these memories were, they were bigger than him. Bigger than any street chase, any rival thief, any enforcer that might be sent to recover them.
A sudden clatter below drew his attention. The figure in black had not given up. It was climbing, slowly, deliberately, its shadow stretching unnaturally along the walls. Evan's heart raced. He needed a plan—any plan.
He looked at the device again. The fragments were reacting, hovering closer, almost protective. He extended his hand, letting one of the brighter shards settle onto the palm. Its glow intensified, projecting a small map of the streets in holographic detail. Paths, exits, hidden corridors—all highlighted in pulses of neon light.
Evan's mind raced as he memorized the route. One misstep, and the fragments could overwhelm him. One misstep, and he could be caught. And one misstep could mean the memories would be lost forever… or worse, that they would consume him entirely.
The figure's shadow reached the fire escape ladder. Evan jumped, pushing off the wall, feeling the wind tear at his coat. Below him, the fragments shimmered, projecting warnings, flashing glimpses of the future—or perhaps just distorted echoes of the past. He had no time to decipher them. He only knew that he couldn't stop moving. Not now, not ever.
As he landed on a rooftop, slick with rain, the fragments around him swirled violently. A face appeared in one shard, distorted and screaming. A vision of a city in flames flashed in another. The whispers coalesced into a single, urgent thought: You must survive. You must protect them. And you must understand… before it's too late.
Evan's chest heaved. Every nerve screamed exhaustion, but he couldn't stop. Not yet. The night was far from over, and the city—Neon Veil—was alive in ways he hadn't imagined. Shadows moved, lights flickered, and somewhere in the chaos, enemies lurked, waiting for the smallest mistake.
He tightened his grip on the device, shards of memory hovering protectively around him. One thought dominated his mind: I can't let them take this from me. Not now. Not ever.
And with that, he vanished into the neon-lit chaos of the city, a shadow among shadows, carrying with him fragments of a truth far bigger than anything he had ever known.