Cyberpunk City AI

The buzz of the neon lights hummed like a warning.

Drexel’s NovaFizz bottle rolled across the floor as he stood and nudged Kaio. “It’s past midnight.”

“Timing’s off,” Kaio said, flicking his eyes toward the back shelf. “No movement yet. You sure the drop’s today?”

“Positive,” Drexel said. “Shortwave pinged—‘Hybrid drip, fox lane, 00:02. Mirrored shelf.’ That’s here.”

Rika blew another bubble, this one neon pink, and let it pop slowly. “That back shelf’s mirrored.”

“So?” Mira asked, tilting her head.

“So’s the snack wall in the alley behind the store,” Kaio replied.

Silence fell between them.

Outside, the rain thickened, smearing the reflections of signage across the sidewalk like melted paint. A drone passed again, slower this time. Its red triangle insignia blinked once, then disappeared behind the rooftop line.

“Zenith,” Drexel muttered. “Told you.”

⸻

They filed out quietly, the clerk still dozing behind his terminal, as if the universe hadn’t shifted.

The alley behind OK FOX was quieter than the front—darker, tighter, the kind of place where trashbags whispered and old signs died out slow. The snack vending machine embedded in the wall was dusty, half-smashed, and covered in stickers. But in its cracked mirrored surface, something shimmered.

“Frequency tags,” Mira said, pulling her sleeve back to reveal her patched cyberdeck band. With a twist of her fingers, the wrist unit buzzed, and a blue shimmer pulsed across the vending glass.

Then a shape began to phase into view.

A sealed capsule—transparent polyglass, filled with a swirling blue‑silver liquid. It pulsed faintly, like a living heartbeat.

Rika stepped closer, eyes wide. “Is that… Bliss?”

Kaio shook his head. “No. Bliss doesn’t move like that. Too viscous. That’s something new.”

Drexel reached out, but Mira grabbed his wrist. “Wait.”

⸻

That’s when the sensor blinked.

A red dot lit up near the corner of the machine. Too late—they were already seen.

From the shadows, a quiet click-click echoed. Then a low voice:

“Step back.”

Two figures emerged—sleek, armored, eyes hidden behind black Zenith visors. Their suits buzzed with microservo hums. Corporate sweepers.

One aimed a compact stun lance at Drexel. “This is Zenith property. You’re interfering with classified delivery tech.”

“Funny,” Mira said. “Didn’t see your logo on the concrete.”

“You want to test jurisdiction?” the agent snapped.

Mira didn’t flinch.

Kaio tapped his lens once. The alley lights surged. The drone overhead flickered, then fell from the sky in a hail of sparks—its signal scrambled.

“You just declared yourself,” Mira whispered.

⸻

Everything moved at once.

Rika grabbed the capsule. Drexel kicked the lance away. Kaio lit a smoke charge that turned the alley into a cloud of shifting violet haze.

Mira yanked the capsule from Rika’s arms and bolted through the alley’s far exit.

Voices shouted behind them. Footsteps echoed. The teens didn’t look back.

⸻

They didn’t stop running until they reached the old substation behind the MagRail hub—a place too magnetic for surveillance, too forgotten for patrols.

Panting, Mira sat down, staring at the capsule.

“I don’t think this is Bliss,” she said.

Rika peered over her shoulder. “Then what is it?”

The liquid inside shifted, separating briefly into glowing rings—each inscribed with geometric glyphs that none of them recognized.

Kaio swallowed hard.

“I think we just stole a prototype.”