Chapter 6: The Ghost in the Gold-Trimmed Showroom
The Inner Sector of New Seattle smelled of filtered air and exorbitant wealth. Carson McCain stood before the glass facade of Luxe-Aether Motors, the city's most prestigious dealership. Five years ago, he was chased away from this very sidewalk for "lowering the property value" with his presence.
Today, he wore a simple black hoodie and dark cargo pants. To the untrained eye, he was a nobody. To a martial artist, however, he was a black hole—his Level 14 Peak aura was so perfectly contained that he appeared to have no presence at all.
"Excuse me," Carson said, walking toward a shimmering, pearl-white Specter-Supernova. It was a Tier-7 vehicle, powered by compressed Aether-crystals.
The salesman, a man named Marcus with a suit that cost more than Carson's old life, didn't even look up from his tablet. "The service entrance for deliveries is in the alley, kid. Move along before I call the peacekeepers."
"I'm not here to deliver," Carson said, his voice as calm as a mountain lake. "I want to know if the rear stabilizer on this model still has the 0.3mm misalignment issue from the previous prototype."
Marcus finally looked up, a sneer twisting his face. "Misalignment? You've been reading too many conspiracy forums. This is a ten-million-unit machine. Now, leave. You're scaring the real customers."
At that moment, the door hissed open. A familiar laugh—sharp and high-pitched—echoed through the showroom.
Maya stepped in, draped in a gown of light-refracting silk. Beside her was a man in the green-and-black tactical gear of the Neon Fangs—Viper's former lieutenant, Jax.
"Oh look, Jax," Maya cooed, her eyes landing on Carson. She didn't recognize him at first—five years of celestial refinement had changed his features into something too handsome, too sharp. "The dealership is letting in the homeless now. How charitable."