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The moment Avery stepped out of the alley and into the open, the world swallowed her whole.
Neon lights bathed the street in an electric glow, shifting hues with the rhythm of an unheard beat. Hovercars buzzed overhead, moving in silent, precise lines. The buildings were impossibly tall, curved like glass blades, pulsing with animated ads that seemed to follow her every move. Pedestrians didn't walk—they glided, some on magnetic skates, others in air-suspension boots. Everyone had augmentations: flickering eyes, chrome veins, voice-modulated greetings.
Avery was a relic here.
She clutched her ruined helmet under one arm and kept her head down. Her clothes, soaked and torn from the jump, drew a few raised brows but nothing more. The city was so overwhelming, so alive, that she barely registered how far she walked until she heard the thunder again.
Not from the sky this time—from engines.
A massive structure loomed ahead: a multilevel platform spiraling like a helix into the sky. It vibrated with the sound of dozens of bikes revving simultaneously. Spectators filled every level, shouting, laughing, some placing bets via floating AR displays. Giant screens broadcasted stats, rankings, footage from helmet cams.
A sign above the entry read: "Spiral Circuit — Blood & Glory Nights."
Her curiosity flared. Racing. That, at least, was familiar.
As she approached, a group of guards in matte-black armor blocked her way. One scanned her with a flick of their wrist. "No entry without registration or invitation."
"I'm not racing," Avery said quickly. "Just looking."
They eyed her helmet, then her boots. "You don't look like a tourist."
She was about to argue when a mechanical screech tore through the air—a dark streak zipped past overhead, trailing violet exhaust. The crowd roared as a single bike pulled a vertical climb, flipped mid-air, and landed back on the spiral track with perfect precision.
The announcer's voice blared over the intercom: "And that's another flawless lap from the reigning champion—Reyna Vex!"
Avery's gaze locked onto the screen. The rider—Reyna—was like a shadow given form, sleek black armor trimmed in burning violet, a helmet shaped like a fang. Her movements were fluid, effortless, like she owned the road.
Then Reyna stopped at the finish line and slowly lifted her visor.
Avery's breath caught.
Reyna was beautiful in a brutal kind of way—sharp features, scar over her brow, and eyes like molten glass. She scanned the crowd, basking in the attention, until something shifted.
Her gaze met Avery's.
A beat passed.
Reyna smirked.
The screen blinked out.
Avery stood frozen until a voice near her ear whispered, "You just caught the Queen's attention. Hope you've got fast feet."
She turned, but the speaker vanished into the crowd. The guard waved her through, suddenly uninterested.
She didn't know what game she had just stepped into.
But one thing was certain: the future had teeth—and she'd just bared hers.
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