Chapter 1: The Golden Gateway Heist
Rain lashed the grimy permacrete, turning neon reflections from towering holoboards into smeared, psychedelic puddles under Louie’s worn sneakers. He stumbled out of the shimmering oval hanging impossibly in the damp alleyway, the portal’s energy humming against his feathers before winking out with a disgruntled pop. The smell hit him first: ozone, stale fried protein, and the underlying tang of synthetic garbage.
"Ugh. Smells like Scrooge’s vault after a bin fire," Louie muttered, pulling his hoodie tighter. The green fabric, once vibrant, was faded, the cuffs frayed, and a careful stitch near the shoulder told a story of a recent close call. He shivered. Humidity here wasn't Duckburg warmth; it was a clammy, electronic sweat clinging to everything.
Above, a tangled web of transit tubes pulsed with light, carrying silent pods. Holographic ads flickered erratically – a smiling synth offering "Bliss!" in neon pink, another hawking "Authentic Vintage Oxygen! (Limited Stock!)" The constant thrum of drones vibrated in his chest, punctuated by the distorted thump of bass from somewhere deep in the city’s bowels.
He patted his hoodie pocket