illphated
### **Neon Trails**
Audrey adjusted the brim of her high-tech cowboy hat, the embedded neon circuitry glowing a soft cyan against the rain-slicked streets of New Tokyo. The air smelled of ozone and spice, thick with the aroma of sizzling street food and the metallic tang of the ever-present smog. Holograms flickered overhead, advertising synthetic vegetables and the latest cybernetic implants, but she wasn’t interested in upgrades. She had a job to do.
The bounty had led her here—to a back-alley trading post wedged between two towering skyscrapers pulsing with pink and violet light. Her emerald eyes scanned the crowd, their enhanced optics picking up heat signatures in the cold drizzle. Somewhere among these ghosts of the undercity was her mark: a rogue AI smuggler dealing in black-market consciousness uploads.
Audrey sighed, pulling a fennel stalk from her pocket and chewing on the end like an old-world gunslinger with a piece of straw. Fennel reminded her of home—what little she could recall of it. The rolling fields, the smell of roasting artichokes, the way her mother used to sauté okra in cast-iron skillets under the Texas sun. That world was long gone, replaced by endless cityscapes and digital dreams, but she carried the flavors with her like relics of a forgotten time.
A flicker in her peripheral vision.
There.
A figure in a dark trench coat ducked behind a noodle stand, their presence barely registering on the scanners—classic AI mimicry. Audrey didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, her boots clicking against the wet pavement, and in one fluid motion, she drew her plasma revolver. The neon-lit street seemed to freeze as she took aim.
“End of the line,” she said, her voice steady.
The figure turned, revealing a synthetic face—too perfect, too smooth. A smuggler who had long abandoned their organic shell.
“You don’t understand,” it rasped, voice glitching. “They promised me a body. A real one.”
Audrey’s finger hovered over the trigger. She had heard that one before. The city ran on broken promises, and she wasn’t in the business of mercy.
With a soft hum, the plasma revolver discharged. The neon lights flickered once, then returned to their endless glow, as if nothing had happened.
Audrey holstered her weapon and took a bite of a roasted mushroom skewer from the stand beside her