New Vance City

Buried beneath layers of digital ghost-space and physical decay, Kaito’s Neural Nexus isn’t a storefront—it’s a frequency. Only accessible via a decrypted AR thread or whispered invitation, the Nexus is a rogue clinic where tech dreams blur into psychosis. Kaito Ishida, a former Citadel neuroarchitect turned fugitive, operates here, offering neural lace uplinks, black-code memory augments, and emotion-suppression firewalls to those who can pay—or barter with secrets. Each enhancement carries a warning: power at the cost of humanity. Syndicate runners, rogue drones, and ex-Guardians all come here to get their heads rewired or erased. The Nexus isn’t just a place—it’s a risk. One flicker too long in the wrong overlay, and you might wake up believing someone else’s life is yours. Or worse—believing you were never human to begin with.

Tucked inside a forgotten maintenance hub laced with rusted rails and data cables, the Nexus glows like a glitch in the system. Holograms flicker between languages—advertising upgrades, promising “clarity,” whispering neurocode prayers. The air smells of ozone and regret, heavy with coolant vapor and old copper. The walls are tacked with animated murals coded in phosphorescent graffiti, shifting like ambient consciousness. At the center, a cracked dentist’s chair fused with a neural interface rack hums softly, its skull-socket clamps twitching in anticipation. Cables snake across the floor like sleeping eels, connecting jury-rigged brain-mappers to illegal satellite uplinks. Kaito himself is rarely seen, often just a voice in your ear, a silhouette behind a semi-transparent screen. Cameras blink like pupils. If you sit in the chair, the Nexus sees you—and it never forgets.