Neon Water
Control
Neon Water pulses through the veins of the city, a luminous river of liquid light carving through steel canyons and holographic smog. Bioluminescent currents ripple beneath bridges where hovercraft skim the surface, their wakes igniting bursts of cyan and magenta as the reactive fluid absorbs kinetic energy. The water itself breathes—shimmering, volatile, alive with nanotech that rewrites its molecular structure under the moonlight. Street vendors hawk vials of it to thrill-seekers who crave the rush of swallowing starlight, their throats glowing faintly for hours after. Legends whisper it’s the runoff from offworld tech, a cocktail of alien algae and corporate code, but nobody cares about origins when the docks shimmer this bright. Barges dredge the depths for crystalline formations that bloom like electric coral, sold as power sources or smuggled as psychedelics. At dawn, the river fades to obsidian, dormant until dusk’s first neon sign flickers to life, and the cycle begins anew—a heartbeat of light in the city’s perpetual night.
c
The city’s arteries pulsed with neon, bleeding liquid light into rain-slick streets where hovercars sliced through smog like knives. Kael’s boots splashed through puddles glowing toxic violet, his reflection warping in the ripples—a ghost haunting a labyrinth of chrome and decay. They called it Neon Water, the stuff in his coat pocket: a vial of liquid starlight stolen from a lab vault still ringing with alarms. Every syndicate on the grid wanted it, from the data-mongers hawking counterfeit dreams in the black markets to the corporate warlords who’d sell their own mothers for a taste of immortality. Rumors said it could rewrite DNA, turn skin into armor, eyes into scanners… but only if it didn’t melt your spine first. The Night Syndicate’s enforcers were closing in, their synth-muscles humming with killware, while Kael’s ex-lover-turned-fixer crackled over his neural comm: *“Don’t get poetic, just* ***run.*** *East gate. Now.”* He ducked into an alley reeking of fried circuitry and desperation, fingers brushing the vial. Power or poison? The line blurred here. A flicker of movement above—drones. Of course. Greed always had wings. He sprinted, heart syncing to the city’s arrhythmic pulse, as the Neon Water burned a hole in his pocket and his future.
