Neon Shadows

Chapter 1: King of the Night

The bass hits like a heartbeat—steady, unrelenting—making the walls of Eclipse vibrate with neon energy. Fluorescent lights cut through the smokey air, casting everything in electric pinks, blues, and greens. Victor Kane stands above it all on the VIP balcony, looking down at the dance floor like a god surveying his worshippers. 

His black suit is sharp, and the collar of his silk shirt popped just enough to give him that effortless edge. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing bright orange in the dim light. Synthwave pulses through the speakers, making the room feel alive with each beat. Eclipse—this neon jungle—is his creation. And every night, it becomes alive because of him.

From his vantage point, he sees everything. Zane Thompson, his right-hand man, is down below, schmoozing with the clubs' regulars, his slicked-back hair shining in the flashing lights. Zane's all about the hustle, working angles like it's his second nature—it probably is—he's good, but Victor? Victor's better.

He flicks the cigarette ash into an ashtray, scanning the room when someone new catches his eye. She's not dancing like the others. She's standing at the edge of the crowd, her dark eyes searching the club like she's looking for something—or someone.

Isabella Martinez, She doesn't fit in with the regular crowd, no neon leggings, no teased-up hair, just sleek and serious. She's a mystery, and in Victor's world, mysteries are dangerous.

Zane's voice pulls Victor back from his thoughts. "Big crowd tonight, huh?" Zane's obnoxious grin is wide, his confidence as loud as his oversized blazer. "I told you this place is fire, man. You've got half the city wrapped around your finger.

Victor doesn't move his eyes from Isabella. "Who is she?"Zane leans over the balcony, squinting through the haze. "Her? No clue. She came in solo. Doesn't seem like she's here for the music, man."Victor's lips curl into a half-smile. "She's here for something. Or someone.." Zane laughs, shaking his head. "You always think someone's playin' a game, man. Lighten up! Enjoy the night."

But he knows better, in the 80s club scene, you either ran the show, or you got played. He pushes off the railing and heads down into the crowd, parting it like a wave. The lights flicker, reflecting off his leather shoes as he strides towards the bar."Whiskey, neat," he orders as he leans against the counter, the music still pounding behind him. 

The bartender slides the glass towards him without a word. Victor's reputation precedes him. From across the room, he feels her eyes on him—Isabella. She's watching him now, her gaze locked on his. It's not like others, she isn't here to flirt or to be impressed. It's almost like she's sizing him up.

He lifts his glass towards her, just a subtle nod—a test. She doesn't react. No smile, no nod, nothing. Just that cool, calculating stare. Victor's smirk deepens as he downs the whiskey in one smooth motion. He knows how this works.

 The nightlife is all about power, now Isabella's trying to figure out his. Zane's voice cuts in again, as cocky as ever. "So, what's the play, boss?" Victor's eyes stick onto Isabela, his voice low but firm.

 "The game's already in motion." In Eclipse, under the swirling neon. The rules are simple: Play, or be played. And Victor Kane never loses.