Neon Winder Rhyne

Among the twelve creature candidates sent down from the celestial heavens to partake in Emperor Yu's competition, calm and patient Snake considered herself the most efficient. Her every movement was sleek, precise, and carefully calculated—not a beat out of time. Snake seemed almost indolent if one didn't know about the viciousness she could strike with. So when she hit the dance floor in that neon-touched city as the dancer Rhyne, there was definitely something different about what she brought to the fray. The glowing rods were modified neon lights, elongated to the length of a baton. Connecting the rods was a nylon tether, giving the overall prop the look and feel of a pair of futuristic nunchucks. As the music began to dip into a thumping trance, Rhyne surged upward with the liquid grace of the serpent within her. The distant signboards melted together into a whirl of blurred color, mimicking twilight and the still-beating heart under the city's concrete carapace. Modern man shunned overt violence as criminal, but aggression and attitude could still be expressed in dance—and in that regard, they were no different from their ancestors. Behind the facade of social acceptance and courtesy lay a wild desire to be seen and heard, and duality of such an existence was intoxicating. Gone were the days where survival was measured in blood and sweat; now they were in black hearts and crocodile smiles. In some ways, the city was far more dangerous than any snarling predator. Her old friend Dragon would have certainly been amused at her enthusiasm, rare as it is. But for now, there was only the beat—the beat of life.