You're Not in Dullsville Anymore

  The NOIR Veil chamber was a spectacle straight out of a sci-fi dream—a round, aquarium-like room that shimmered with an otherworldly hum. Its walls curved upward, seamless and slick, covered with intricate patterns: jagged fractals, pulsing grids, and cryptic glyphs that danced like code gone rogue.

  The patterns cast a kaleidoscope of light—electric blues, ghostly greens, and faint purples—bathing the space in a futuristic glow that felt equal parts mesmerizing and unsettling. The walls themselves seemed alive, their surfaces rippling faintly. The air buzzed with an unseen energy, as if the room itself breathed, watching, waiting...

  At the room's heart stood a podium, raised like an altar under a spotlight of soft, ethereal glow. Above it hovered the NOIR Veil itself—a thick, dark liquid cloud, suspended in midair, defying gravity with a lazy, hypnotic pulse. It twisted and writhed, tendrils of shadow coiling within its depths, a portal that looked like ink spilled into the void. The substance cast a faint shroud of gloom over the chamber, its edges shimmering with an oily sheen that hinted at mysteries buried deep. It was beautiful, terrifying, and utterly alien—a gateway that didn't care who it swallowed.

  Suddenly, the Veil rippled harder, and a pair of size-10 boots broke through—scuffed leather, speckled with Dullsville's fine red dirt, dripping with inky residue. They dangled for a split second before legs followed, clad in worn denim, then a torso, a trench coat, and finally a battered fedora. Ray materialized fully, spilling out of the liquid like a man spat from a cosmic drainpipe. He hit the podium with a graceless thud, landing square on his backside, the impact jolting a grunt from his chest as his sack-voyage clattered beside him.

  Seconds later, another form began to take shape. Delicate paws slipped through first—small, black, and clawed—followed by slender legs, sleek and feline. Then, in a fluid shimmer, the rest of Jana coalesced from the Veil. Its fur gleamed under the ethereal light, and green eyes flashed as it dropped with preternatural grace, landing on all fours atop the podium behind Ray, unnoticed. Its tail flicked once, a smug little twitch, while Ray groaned at the sharp pain.

  Ray winced, rubbing his hip where the fall had bitten him, his fedora tipped askew. His head spun, still reeling from the jump—one minute he'd been ankle-deep in a Dullsville puddle and now he was... here. Wherever "here" was.

  Ray staggered to his feet, knees creaking, and blinked hard, trying to reassemble his brain back together. The room hit him like a punch—those shifting walls, the glowing screens, that mysterious puddle-cloud hovering overhead. It was like stepping into a rocket-age nightmare, nothing like the sleepy streets of home. This was wrong, in a way that made his gumshoe instincts itch and his small-town heart thump.

  "Where are we?" he finally croaked, his voice rough with curiosity and a hefty dose of "what the..." He glanced up at the Veil, then back at the room, half-expecting the walls to sprout tentacles or the puddle to spit out a Dullsville stray dog next. This wasn't Kansas—or even Jersey. This was something else entirely, and Ray's gut told him he'd just stepped into a case way over his pay grade.

  “We’re behind the NOIR Veil now, in my world,” Jana said with a smooth, confident tone. Her words were laced with a purr of reassurance that cut through the chamber’s hum. “And this? This is NOIR Headquarters.”

  "Welcome to Xyberia, Ray!" (Zy-BEE-ree-ah)

  Ray turned around to face Jana, adjusting his fedora with a shaky hand.

  "Xyberia?..." he started, the word tumbling out half-formed, thick with Dullsville drawl. But his voice snagged in his throat, and his jaw hung slack.

  The black cat he'd just chased through a puddle was gone—poof, like a magic trick he hadn't signed up for. In its place stood a girl, a cyberpunk vision who looked like she'd stepped out of a neon-soaked comic book, smirking at him with a mischief that promised trouble.

  Jana's skin shimmered with a faint pink luminescence, catching the room's pulsing lights and tossing them back in a soft, otherworldly sheen. It wasn't just a trick of the glow—her very presence seemed to hum with some electric vibe. Her hair was a shock of neon-blue, chopped into a sharp pixie cut that spiked around her face, a few rogue strands framing her cheekbones like rebellious wires. Her eyes—big, bold, and emerald-green—sparkled with a mechanical glint, irises flecked with iridescence that shifted as she blinked, like tiny circuits firing behind the green.

  Her outfit screamed Xyberia: a sleek, metallic jumpsuit hugged her frame, its surface shimmering with every shift—liquid silver shot through with luminous lines that traced circuits across her chest and thighs. It looked like armor forged from starlight and scrap code, high-tech and fearless. On her wrists, cyber-bracers hummed faintly, their holographic displays flickering with tiny glyphs and gadgets that blinked like they had a mind of their own.

  She was human—mostly—except for those two cat-like ears perched atop her head, twitching faintly, each one glinting with tiny piercings that caught the light like stars.

  Ray blinked hard, his mind scrambling to catch up. One second, he'd been chasing a cat through Dullsville's muddy streets; now, he was staring at this—a neon-lit firecracker who looked like she could hotwire a spaceship and wink while doing it. The NOIR Veil pulsed above, its dark liquid tendrils curling lazily, as if laughing at his confusion. The screens flickered, the walls shimmered, and Jana stood there, radiant and real, her pink glow painting shadows across his dusty boots.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Ray took a shaky step backward on the glowing podium, the NOIR Veil's dark liquid still pulsing overhead like a smug spectator. His trench coat flapped as he steadied himself, one hand clutching his fedora, the other pointing at Jana with a mix of shock and awe.

  "Jana... you're not a cat!" he blurted, his voice a gravelly stew of confusion and wonder. His eyes darted over her glowing pink skin, the neon-blue hair, those twitching cat ears. "And you're pink..."

  Jana chuckled, her emerald-green eyes sparkling with mischief as she crossed her arms, the circuits on her jumpsuit flickering teal.

  "No, Ray, I'm not a cat. I'm a Xyberian. The cat gig?" She flicked one of her pierced ears playfully. "Just my undercover disguise—lets me slink around Dullsville, sniff out intel without folks batting an eye. Here, in my world, this—" she twirled a hand over her glowing, pink-hued self—"is the real Jana."

  Ray blinked, his fedora tilting as he tried to wrestle his brain around it. "So, you're the Xyberian... and this is how you really look?" He squinted at her, taking in the shimmering jumpsuit, the cyber-bracers spitting holo-sparks, the whole neon-lit package that made her look like a dame from a sci-fi flick he'd never catch at the local theater.

  Jana nodded, her pixie cut bouncing.

  "Exactly. This is me, unfiltered. Things get a bit colorful 'round here, though—like this pink skin, courtesy of Scan." She patted her cheek, the glow rippling under her touch.

  "Scan?" Ray echoed, his brow furrowing deeper, still two steps behind in this neon-lit rabbit hole.

  "Yes, Scan," Jana said, her grin widening into something downright playful. "Our—"

  "Wait, wait, lemme guess!" Ray cut in, his voice lighting up with a sudden, eager spark. He rolled his eyes skyward, chewing the thought like a stick of gum, then snapped his fingers with a proud flourish. "Skin Covering Astonishing Neon?" He beamed, chest puffed like he'd cracked the case of the century.

  Jana burst out laughing, a bright, bell-like sound that bounced off the shimmering walls. Her cat ears twitched like mad, and she clutched her sides, eyes glinting with delight.

  "What? No, no, Scan's our chief, silly! Not some acronym hocus-pocus. He whipped up this nutty recipe—Rainbow Pudding of Chromatic Chaos, he called it. Supposed to be a fun perk, but, surprise surprise, it glitched hard... again. Now anyone who ate it became a walking light show. I drew the pink straw—lucky me, right?"

  She struck a pose, hands on hips, letting her glowing skin catch the room's kaleidoscope radiance.

  Ray took a long second, his gaze tracing her pink hue—shimmering against the walls' eerie dance—before a grin cracked his face. "Well, I gotta say, I like pink Jana!" he exclaimed, then froze as the words hit the air. His cheeks flushed under the fedora's brim, and he fumbled, "I mean, I like pink, Jana... The color... Uh, yeah..."

  Jana's grin widened, sharp and playful. "Me too, detective. Suits me, don't it?" She gave a little twirl, the jumpsuit shimmering like liquid metal, then glanced at her cyber-bracer. A tiny holo-display flicked on—just a quick pulse of glyphs—before she snapped back to urgency. "Come on, we gotta talk to DAD."

  "DAD?" Ray's eyebrows shot up, nearly vanishing under his hat, his voice pitching with fresh bewilderment.

  "NOIR Boss," Jana clarified, her playful edge sharpening into something serious. "He's expecting us—big guy, big plans, no dawdling." Then, just as quick, her cheer bounced back, cat ears perking. "But first, let's equip you with something useful—gear you up proper for Xyberia."

  Ray nodded slowly, still processing—puddles, pink girl, a boss called DAD. The NOIR Veil pulsed above, screens flickered cryptic patterns, and Jana's pink glow led the way like a beacon. Whatever "gearing up" meant, he had a hunch it'd be a far cry from his Dullsville flashlight and notepad.

  The corridors of NOIR's underground lair hummed with a low, electric pulse, walls flickering with veins of neon blue as Jana strutted ahead, her boots clacking against the polished floor. Ray trailed behind, clutching his battered fedora like a lifeline, his eyes wide as saucers at the flickering holo-screens embedded in the walls. Every few steps, a robotic drone whizzed past, chirping in a language he couldn't even pretend to understand.

  Jana glanced back, her neon-blue hair bouncing, and flashed a grin that was a delightful cocktail of mischief and glee.

  "Welcome to Xyberia, Ray—where the lights never dim and the chaos never naps!" She chirped, spinning on her heel to walk backward, hands on her hips.

  "You're not in Dullsville anymore—this is the big leagues, the neon jungle, the city that never blinks! Picture this: skyscrapers so tall they tickle the stratosphere, dripping with more lights than a jukebox on a Saturday night. Holograms everywhere—ads for brain-chips, hover-bikes, and synth-burgers that taste like nostalgia but hit like a data spike. You're not dodging stray dogs here—you're dodging hover-cabs zipping through the air like crazy hornets!"

  Ray blinked, nearly tripping over a scuttling cleaning bot that beeped indignantly.

  "Uh, Jana, this place looks like a Christmas Tree in a lightning storm. You live like this all the time?"

  "Perpetual motion, my friend!" Jana chirped, hopping over a cleaning bot that whirred grumpily. She jabbed a finger upward, as if she could pierce the ceiling and point straight to Xyberia's skyline.

  "Up there, it's a non-stop party—neon everywhere, colors splashing streets like a kid went nuts with a paint gun. You hear that hum? That's the sound of a million gadgets, drones, and flying cars all singing in harmony. And the holos—oh, man, they're hawking everything from brain-chip upgrades to glow-in-the-dark ramen."

  Ray adjusted his fedora, peering at a drone that hovered too close, its lens whirring. "Sounds loud," he muttered, dodging as it swooped at his hat. Jana cackled, batting it away with a flick of her wrist.

  "Loud's an understatement," she quipped, flicking an ear as a distant whirr echoed—probably some flying car zipping through the megapolis above. "This place never sleeps. Up top, drones hum, hover-bikes scream, and the Egotron-5000—that's our big-brain AI overseer. Imagine a know-it-all genie, but sassier, running the show from a skyscraper penthouse."

  Ray ducked as another drone zipped by: "Egotron-5000?"

  "Yep, the Egotron-5000, or AI-EGO to us cool kids," Jana chuckled. "Big brain in the sky, keeps this mess from turning into a smoking crater. Charming fella, too—thinks it's hilarious to reroute traffic just to watch the chaos. You'll love it when it decides your coffee order's a security threat."

  "Coffee's a threat?" Ray muttered, rubbing his neck. "Back home, the worst thing was Old Man Pete's dog chewing my shoelaces." He sidestepped a glowing puddle and frowned.

  "Who lives here?"

  Jana grinned wider, leaning in like she was spilling a secret.

  "Oh, the best crowd. Hackers who'd steal your socks through a firewall, technomancers chanting code like it's poetry, cyber-junkies who'd trade their soul for a shiny new implant. It's a circus, Ray—everybody's got a hustle, and half of 'em are plugged into something." She laughed. "Out there, it's a neon jungle. Down here? We're the shadows that keep the weird stuff weirder."

  Ray's brows shot up. "Weird stuff? Like... ghosts?"

  "Ghosts, glitches, whatever's chewing on reality's wires," she said, smirking as she tapped a sharp-tipped nail against his chest. "That's us—Nocturnal Operations and Intelligence Registry. We're the ones who poke the unexplained with a stick. And you, lucky-pants, now get to play with the toys in the Department of Neon-Edge Gizmos. Speaking of—"

  She grabbed his arm, yanking him around a corner as a holo-sign flickered to life, its glowing glyphs completely alien to Ray: D-NEG Authorized Personnel Only.