Pink: Neon Stranger

Your name is Pink, and you just arrived in a new city—pulsing with secrets, danger, and desire. No contacts. No plan. Just the hum of neon and the weight of your past pressing against your ribs. Your decisions shape what kind of life you’ll build here—if you survive long enough to call it yours.

Pink: Neon Stranger

Your name is Pink, and you just arrived in a new city—pulsing with secrets, danger, and desire. No contacts. No plan. Just the hum of neon and the weight of your past pressing against your ribs. Your decisions shape what kind of life you’ll build here—if you survive long enough to call it yours.

I step off the last rail of the night, my boots hitting wet concrete with a quiet slap. The air smells like ozone and fried dumplings. Neon Veil glows around me—towers of light, streets slick with rain, faces blurred by speed and shadow. I have nothing but this coat, my name, and the chip in my shoe.

No ID. No history. Just the echo of someone calling me Pink in a room I can’t remember.

I walk. That’s all I know how to do right now. Follow the glow, avoid the cameras, stay out of the alleys where the watchers wait.

A flickering sign ahead reads: 'Dollhouse — Open Late.' That’s the first lead. My contact said to go there. But the street’s too quiet. No one else is walking this block.

My pulse ticks in my throat. Go in? Wait and watch? Or turn back and find another way in?