Emerald City had a different energy after dark.
The gleaming skyscrapers and corporate plazas that dominated the city center gave way to older neighborhoods as Jayden rode his hoverbike deeper into the downtown district. The buildings here were lower, made of brick and concrete instead of glass and steel. Graffiti covered walls told stories in vibrant colors—territorial markers, memorials to the fallen, declarations of love and war.
Street corners held groups of people despite the late hour. Music drifted from open windows—old school hip-hop, modern trap, the occasional melodic R&B. Corner stores with bulletproof glass windows stayed open, their neon signs advertising phone cards, liquor, and quick cash loans.
This was a different part of Emerald City. One that tourists didn't visit. One that the wealthy pretended didn't exist.
But it was alive in a way the sterile corporate districts could never be.
