Neo City never truly slept.
It only pretended to lights dimmed but never extinguished, traffic thinned but never disappeared, sirens echoing softly in the distance like a reminder that danger was only resting, not gone. From above, the city looked alive, pulsing with neon arteries and glass veins, skyscrapers rising like steel sentinels into the night sky.
And somewhere between those shadows, she moved.
A dark figure landed silently atop the ledge of a forty-story building, boots barely making a sound as they met concrete. The wind tugged at her cloak, black fabric rippling like liquid darkness behind her. She crouched, one knee down, gloved fingers brushing the surface as if grounding herself.
Below her, the city breathed.
Above her, clouds rolled lazily across the moon.
She lifted her head.
The mask hid most of her face sleek, matte-black, angular at the edges, fitted with faintly glowing crimson lines along the temples. Her eyes, sharp and alert, scanned the streets below with practiced precision.
Three blocks east. Dockside sector. Warehouse District.
That was where the trouble was tonight.
She exhaled slowly, steadying her heartbeat.
"Alright," she murmured under her breath, voice low, calm. "Let's see what you're hiding."
She stepped off the building.
For a brief second, gravity claimed her.
Then she activated the grappling line embedded in her wrist. A thin cable shot out, anchoring to the opposite building with a muted clang, and she swung across the gap, cloak flaring behind her like wings.
The city blurred beneath her as she moved jump, swing, roll, repeat. She flowed through Neo City's skyline like she belonged to it, every rooftop familiar, every shortcut memorized. This wasn't just a hunting ground.
It was her territory.
She landed on the roof of a warehouse overlooking the docks, crouching low as she peered through a cracked skylight.
Inside, chaos simmered.
A group of men six, maybe seven stood in a loose circle around a trembling figure tied to a metal chair. Crates labeled with outdated shipping codes were stacked along the walls, some broken open to reveal weapons: pulse rifles, illegal tech, contraband that never should have made it past the city's borders.
One of the men laughed, the sound harsh and ugly.
"You know," he said, pacing in front of the captive, "if you'd just told us what we wanted, we wouldn't have had to make such a mess."
The captive a young man, no older than twenty shook his head frantically, eyes wide with fear. "I already told you. I don't know anything. I just… I just work the docks."
"Yeah?" Another man scoffed. "Funny how dock workers always seem to be in the wrong place at the right time."
The woman on the roof felt her jaw tighten.
Human trafficking. Weapon smuggling. Extortion.
Same pattern. Different night.
She touched the comm bead in her ear, listening. Police frequencies crackled faintly in the background. Too far. Too slow.
As usual.
She glanced around the roof, calculating angles, distances, escape routes. The skylight was reinforced breaking through it would alert them immediately. The side entrance, however, was less guarded.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of her lips beneath the mask.
Good.
She slipped down the side of the building, hugging the shadows until she reached ground level. The alley beside the warehouse smelled of oil and saltwater, the dock air thick and damp.
Two guards stood near the door, weapons slung casually over their shoulders, laughing about something trivial.
They never saw her coming.
The first guard dropped without a sound, a precise strike to the back of his neck. The second turned just in time to see her fist collide with his jaw, sending him sprawling unconscious to the ground.
She dragged both bodies into the shadows and slipped inside.
The warehouse interior was loud with voices, the men too distracted to notice the door opening. She moved silently, sticking to the periphery, her presence barely a ripple in the air.
Then
A crate toppled.
The sound echoed sharply across the warehouse.
Every head snapped toward the noise.
"What the hell was that?" someone barked.
The woman straightened, stepping out of the shadows.
"Evening," she said calmly.
For a split second, there was stunned silence.
Then chaos erupted.
"IT'S HER!"
"THE SHADOW!"
Gunfire exploded through the space.
She moved.
The world slowed as adrenaline surged through her veins. She ducked, rolled, leapt onto a crate, using the elevated position to her advantage. A flash of her wrist another grappling line fired, yanking a gun from a man's hands and slamming him into a wall.
She flipped over an incoming strike, landing behind her attacker and driving an elbow into his spine. He collapsed with a cry.
One by one, they fell.
Her movements were precise, efficient every strike deliberate, every dodge calculated. She wasn't reckless. She couldn't afford to be.
A pulse round grazed her shoulder, heat searing through the fabric of her suit. She hissed, pain flaring briefly before she shoved it aside.
Focus.
Two men remained.
One charged her head-on, swinging wildly. She sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, twisted sharply, and disarmed him before sweeping his legs out from under him.
The last man hesitated, eyes darting between her and the exit.
"Don't," she warned softly.
He ran.
She sighed.
With a flick of her wrist, she launched a compact shock disk. It struck him squarely in the back, sending electricity coursing through his body. He collapsed mid-stride, unconscious before he hit the floor.
Silence settled over the warehouse, broken only by the shallow breathing of the captive.
She turned to him, kneeling as she cut the restraints binding his wrists.
"You're safe," she said gently. "The police will be here soon."
The young man stared at her, awe and disbelief warring on his face. "You're… you're really her."
She paused. "Her?"
"The Shadow of Neo City," he whispered.
She didn't correct him.
She never did.
She activated a beacon on her wrist, sending an anonymous alert to the authorities, complete with location and evidence logs. Then she turned toward the exit.
"Wait," the young man said quickly. "I—I didn't even get your name."
She stopped at the door, glancing back over her shoulder.
"I don't have one," she replied.
And then she was gone.
She emerged into the night, leaping onto the nearest building and disappearing into the skyline before sirens began to wail in the distance.
As she moved, the adrenaline slowly ebbed, leaving behind the familiar weight in her chest.
Relief. Anger. Exhaustion.
And something darker.
She landed on a rooftop several blocks away, finally allowing herself to slow down. She removed her mask, cool air brushing against her face.
Her name was Astra Vale.
At least, that was the name she still answered to in the quiet moments.
She leaned against a vent, rolling her shoulder experimentally. The pulse round hadn't done serious damage, but it would bruise. Another scar to add to the collection.
Her gaze drifted across the city, eyes softening for just a moment.
She hadn't always lived like this.
Once, Neo City had been just a place she called home. A place with laughter, routine, people she loved.
Then the city took something from her.
Someone.
She closed her eyes, the memory rising unbidden red lights flashing, rain streaking down glass, the sound of sirens mixing with screams. A hand slipping from hers, fingers cold, lifeless.
Her jaw clenched.
"This is why," she whispered to the night.
She pulled the mask back on, sealing away the vulnerability along with her face.
Time to move.
She turned
And froze.
She wasn't alone.
A figure stood on the edge of the opposite rooftop, silhouetted against the moonlight. Taller than her, broader shoulders, clad in armor that reflected the city lights in sharp lines of silver and blue.
He hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken.
He had just… been there.
Watching.
Her instincts flared instantly.
"How long have you been standing there?" she demanded, shifting into a defensive stance.
The figure tilted his head slightly, as if amused.
"Long enough," a male voice replied, smooth and unhurried, carried easily across the gap between buildings. "To see you dismantle an entire operation by yourself."
Her fingers twitched near her grappling line.
"Then you've seen enough," she said coldly. "Leave."
Instead of obeying, he stepped forward into the light.
His mask was different from hers sleek, angular, glowing faintly along the edges. His armor was advanced, clearly custom-built, humming softly with contained energy.
A hero.
Or something pretending to be one.
"You've been making quite a name for yourself," he continued. "The Shadow. The Ghost. Neo City's favorite urban legend."
She scoffed. "I don't work for applause."
"No," he agreed. "You work alone."
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
He smiled beneath his mask. She could hear it in his voice.
"To introduce myself," he said. "And to let you know that Neo City isn't yours alone anymore."
The wind howled between them, carrying tension sharp enough to cut.
Astra straightened, meeting his gaze without flinching.
"Then you picked the wrong city," she said.
His smile widened.
"Or the perfect one."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Two shadows standing at opposite ends of the night.
And somewhere deep within Astra's chest, a warning stirred.
This wasn't just another criminal.
This was the beginning of something far more dangerous.