In Nocturne, missing people aren't lost. They're caught.
The Missing Girl
Two days later.
The rain never stopped in Nocturne.
It wasn't just weather — it was ritual. It tapped against Asher Blackwood's office window like a ticking clock that knew too much, the sound steady, mocking. A city-wide metronome counting down to the next tragedy.
The room glowed faint amber from a desk lamp held together by duct tape and sheer spite. Noir, flickering on his terminal like a digital ghost, ran silent scans across the city's twisted networks. The air smelled like old coffee, ozone, and gun oil.
The door creaked open.
She stepped in with hesitation — a woman shaped by power but undone by fear. Corporate-cut suit, smart lenses, high heels worn too long. The persona of Elara Vance was all boardroom ice, but her smeared mascara and red-rimmed eyes betrayed the mother beneath.
Her voice cracked even before her lips did.
"She went out for drinks with friends… but no one saw her after midnight. The cops… they won't look past curfew zones. Please… they said you handle the cases no one else takes."
Asher didn't respond right away. He just watched her — the way her hand trembled as she clutched a chipped data shard holding a photo of her daughter.
Mira Vance. 19. Brown hair, wide smile, a spark in the eyes you only saw in people too new to the city's rot.
Asher leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him like a coffin lid. He stared at the flickering holopic of Mira, then at Elara.
"Helix Dominion… Big name. Big shadow."
Noir's whisper, soft in his inner ear, buzzed like a scalpel:
"Detective, corporate kidnappings have spiked by 12% this quarter. This matches recent Helix patterns. Red flag: four other interns went missing in the last month. All uninvestigated."
He reached for his coat, the synthetic leather crackling with familiar weight. The kind of weight you only carried when expecting to need your gun more than your words.
"Alright, lady. We'll fish your girl out... or the city eats another soul."
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The City Hooks Are Already Set
Neon Siren was half karaoke dive, half spy den, all migraine.
Downstairs, someone wailed a horribly off-key rendition of "Midnight Girl, Electric Boy." Upstairs, the real world stank of gun oil, noodles, and unresolved trauma.
Rosa leaned against the mini fridge in gym shorts and a hoodie soaked with sweat, unwrapping her bandages. The bruises were turning into dull violets. She was healing — but restless.
Lucien, perched on the windowsill, clicked fresh ammo into his sidearms like he was tuning an instrument.
"Missing girl case? Classic," Rosa said, smirking. "Almost nostalgic after fighting mirror demons."
"Kid's probably dead," Lucien replied flatly. "Or worse. But hey, let's go sightseeing."
Asher tossed a holochip onto the table, Mira's face spiraling into view.
"No jokes. This one stinks. Helix is involved. And those corporate freaks don't just play dirty — they write the damn rules."
Noir blinked into the air, displaying a city grid.
Mira's last signal pinged from a place no one with sense ever walked into: Neon Hook.
It pulsed on the map like a sick heartbeat — a hybrid club and clinic known for black-market trades, body mods, and whisper-traded services like "memory purification."
Owned by a Helix Dominion front, of course.
"I always wanted to burn that place down," Lucien muttered, eyes narrowing.
"Then bring matches," Asher said.
They moved through South Bastion like wolves in a meat market. The rain turned to acid mist. The city was alive — and on something strong.
A mechanical preacher on the corner screamed:
"THE SECOND DIGITAL COMING APPROACHES! PLUG IN OR PERISH!"
Then promptly glitched, collapsing mid-blessing with a shower of sparks.
A group of cyberpunks surrounded a noodle cart, half-rapping, half-hacking. Their rhymes turned into executable code that temporarily disabled a nearby parking drone.
An ad-blimp spiraled out of control, crashing into a holo-billboard selling brain-boost smoothies. The crowd below cheered.
Rosa laughed under her breath.
"God, I missed this dumb city."
"Don't get sentimental," Asher warned. "City'll bite back."
"Let it try," she grinned.
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Infiltrating Neon Hook
The club was alive.
Neon Hook wasn't built — it bled into the alleyways like an infection. Flashing signs, ultraviolet graffiti, music that dug under your skin and rewired your heartbeat. The place was a cybernetic fever dream of light, sin, and techno-beat violence.
Inside: dancers twisted on jointed chrome limbs, every move digitized and degraded. Half their faces were modded into masks they couldn't remove.
A tank of exotic creatures lined the back wall, undulating in rhythm with the bass — and if you stared long enough, you'd swear their eyes were human. Watching you.
Lucien took it all in with a grin.
"Welcome to sin city deluxe. Drinks are overpriced, and so are the corpses."
Rosa peeled off to question a bartender who recognized her. Fame had its uses — even underground.
Asher, meanwhile, let Noir guide him via whispers and blue-lit markers no one else could see.
Behind a locked VIP door, they found Mira's jacket — stained with something not quite blood, folded like someone wanted it seen.
A floor hatch creaked open beneath the DJ booth — leading down.
Way down.
"She's still here," Asher said, voice turning flint. "Somewhere below."
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Hook, Line… and Trap
The stairs were rusted. The silence was worse than the music above.
They descended into corporate horror.
Surgical rigs.
Memory-drain chairs — with old restraints, stained and frayed.
Vats filled with glowing blue fluid. Not chemicals. Thoughts. Data. Souls digitized and sold.
"They're chopping people's minds up like black-market sushi," Rosa spat, fists clenched.
Suddenly — metal slammed.
Doors locked.
Guards emerged, their armor humming with Helix's patented neural sync tech. Corporate exo-troopers. Expressionless. Efficient.
A voice crackled overhead.
Smooth. Cold. Synthetic.
"Detective Blackwood. You meddle too much. This bait wasn't for you... but since you're here, let's add you to the data pool."
Lucien drew both guns, eyes gleaming.
"I told you. I always wanted to burn this place down."
Asher cocked his pistol.
"Fine. Let's make this messy."
The guards charged.
Asher flipped the nearest data vat — the blue liquid spraying across the room, sizzling where it touched steel.
Rosa roared, bare fists glowing as if lit by will alone.
Lucien shot out the lights — the chamber plunged into strobing darkness.
And then all hell broke loose.
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Next Chapter — Chapter 83: "Blue Data and Red Blood"Trapped underground, Asher's team goes full berserk to escape — but Helix's corporate machine has deeper hooks than anyone realized. And someone in the shadows has already marked Asher for more than just elimination…