New Vance City

Deep beneath the shattered bones of New Vance, where the sun never shines and the Citadel’s cameras can’t reach, lies the Neon Bazaar—an outlawed market hardwired into the neural pulse of the Shadow Syndicate. It's not just a place, it's an experience—half physical, half augmented hallucination. Here, reality blurs with glitch-code as fixers, dealers, and mercenaries barter not only in stims and weapon mods, but in secrets, memory loops, and digital ghosts. Syndicate operators drift like phantoms, their implants aglow with encrypted overlays, while gunmetal sentinels enforce order with brutal efficiency. Every whispered deal is filtered through a tangle of proxy servers and burner chips. Loyalty is scarce, trust nonexistent. Yet somehow, the market thrives—a beating, radiant artery of desperation and autonomy. In a city ruled by scarcity, this is where you go when you want something you’re not supposed to want—and can’t afford not to have.

The Neon Bazaar crackles with impossible color—glitching AR signage floats inches above rust-stained concrete, shifting languages and ads like a living fever dream. Augmented eyes glow in the dark as cyber-enhanced vendors shout silent offers through neural uplinks. Makeshift stalls form jagged lanes of hacked vending machines, chromed-out data rigs, and repurposed cryo-vaults pulsing with contraband light. The ceiling—if you can see it—is webbed in fiber optic coils and cracked monitors playing endless loops of corrupted propaganda. The walls bleed graffiti animated with static-infused avatars, each tagged with Syndicate sigils encoded in ultraviolet ink. A low thrum pulses beneath your boots—the digital heartbeat of the Shadow Syndicate. Above it all, a holographic serpent coils endlessly around a central pylon.