Neon Empire System: Rise of the Miami King
Chapter 1: Rain and Regrets
The bass from Club Vibe was still pounding in Jax's chest even though he was already outside, soaked through, standing under a busted awning on Ocean Drive like some stray dog nobody wanted.
Miami rain does not play. It comes down in fat angry sheets that turn the whole street into a blurry watercolor of pink and blue neon. His delivery jacket, cheap polyester with the faded pizza logo, was useless. Water ran down his neck, into his sneakers, pooling around his feet. The pizza box he'd been carrying for that last drop? Long gone. Tossed in a dumpster after the third bouncer told him to get the fuck outta here, bro.
He should not have come.
Sofia's text had been simple:
Come through baby. It's my birthday. I miss you.
Three little heart emojis. He'd scraped together gas money from his mom, told her he'd be back before midnight, even smiled when she said, "Be careful, mijo." Thought maybe tonight would be the night Sofia finally stopped treating him like a secret.
Instead he walked into the VIP section and saw everything.
Sofia, his Sofia, curled up next to some dude in a white linen suit so crisp it looked photoshopped. Marcus Voss. Jax recognized the face instantly from every other Instagram story in South Beach: private tables, bottle service girls, the kind of guy who posted yacht pics with captions like Living my best life. Rolex catching the strobe lights. Chain thicker than Jax's wrist. Security flanking him like personal bodyguards.
Jax had frozen right there in the doorway, still holding the stupid little gift bag he'd bought, a cheap silver bracelet from the flea market because that's all he could afford.
Sofia spotted him first.
Her smile vanished. She leaned over, whispered something in Marcus's ear. Then she stood up, heels clicking across the marble like gunshots.
"Jax?" Her voice was loud enough for half the section to hear. "What are you doing here?"
He tried to smile. "You said come through. It's your birthday."
"I didn't mean here." She crossed her arms. "This isn't your scene."
Marcus laughed, low, amused, like Jax was the punchline. "This the delivery boy you told me about?"
Sofia didn't even deny it. She just looked at Jax like he was something she stepped in.
"You're holding me back," she said, voice flat. "Marcus gets it. He's going places. You're still delivering pizzas."
The words hit harder than any punch. The VIP crowd started murmuring, phones coming out. Someone snickered.
Jax felt his face burn. "Sof."
"Stop." She held up a hand. "Just go."
Two bouncers were already moving. Big guys in black polos. One grabbed Jax's arm. The other shoved his chest.
"Time to bounce, fam."
They dragged him through the club like trash. Past the dance floor. Past the bar. Out the side door into the storm.
The rain hit him like a slap. They shoved him forward; he stumbled, caught himself on a parking meter. One of them kicked the gift bag into a puddle.
"Stay out," the bigger one growled. "Don't come back."
Then they were gone. Door slammed. Bass muffled again.
Jax stood there, breathing hard, rain streaming down his face. His phone buzzed in his pocket, probably his mom checking if he was okay. He didn't check. Couldn't.
He started walking. No destination. Just away. Past the palm trees bending in the wind, past the luxury cars parked like trophies, past the glowing signs promising everything he'd never have.
That's when the group of guys appeared, three of them, hoods up, stepping out from an alley near 10th Street.
"Yo, you good, bro?" the leader asked. Sounded friendly for half a second.
Then the second one smirked. "Nah, he looks like he got problems."
They closed in fast.
Jax put his hands up. "I don't want trouble."
Too late. First punch caught him in the ribs. Second in the jaw. He went down hard, concrete scraping his palms. They rifled his pockets, found twenty three dollars and some change, his cracked phone, his keys. Laughed as they took it all.
"Better luck next life, pizza man."
They vanished into the rain.
Jax curled up against the wall of a shuttered souvenir shop, blood mixing with rainwater on his lip. Everything hurt. Everything felt pointless.
He pulled his knees to his chest. Closed his eyes.
That's when his phone, somehow still in his hand after they dropped it, lit up.
Not a normal notification.
The screen flickered like bad reception, then went black for a second before glowing bright neon blue.
Words appeared, floating over the cracked glass like they were burned into reality.
Neon Empire System Activated
Congratulations, Host. You have been selected as the rightful King of Miami.
Mission 1: Crash the afterparty. Reclaim your dignity.
Reward: $50,000 instant deposit + Charm +10 + 500 Neon Points
Failure: Permanent loss of qualification
Accept / Decline?
Jax stared at the screen, rain dripping off his nose, heart slamming so hard he thought it might crack his ribs worse than the punch.
This couldn't be real.
But the words didn't disappear.
They pulsed.
Waiting.
He lifted a trembling finger.
And pressed Accept.
The screen flashed white.
A new notification exploded across it:
Mission Accepted
Time remaining: 47 minutes
Warning: The afterparty is already underway. Marcus Voss is celebrating his newest acquisition.
Jax's breath caught.
Acquisition.
That's what Sofia was now. A fucking acquisition.
He pushed himself up, legs shaky, jaw throbbing.
The rain kept falling.
But something inside him had already shifted.
He looked back toward Club Vibe, lights still flashing through the storm.
Then he started walking.
Straight into the neon.