The room was dimly lit, the steady hum of neon breaking the silence. Cold blue light filtered through the half-shut blinds of a nearby window, casting angular shadows across cheap wallpaper and a scratched wooden counter. A single drop of rain streaked down the glass before vanishing into the growing storm outside. Inside, the air smelled faintly of leather and sugar, tinged with the metallic bite of a world too eager to destroy itself. The year was 2179, but it hardly mattered—time may change, but desperation always tastes the same.
She sat atop the counter, swinging one dainty leg in time with a melody that only she seemed to hear. Her outfit was a deliberate anachronism: a white button-up shirt that hugged her slim frame, sleeves casually rolled to expose her forearms; a plaid blue skirt that ended far above her knees, deliberately chosen and weaponized. A matching blue tie hung loose around her neck—not too tight but not too casual either. She wore knee-high socks, their pure white interrupted by faint scuffs from the rougher edges of her life. Her jet-black hair was a study in chaos and precision, the sheer messiness somehow perfect, flowing around her sharp, angular face. She was licking a lollipop—bright red, metallic even beneath the neon glare. Each deliberate drag of her tongue across the candy seemed designed to mock whoever was watching. And Malcolm was watching.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Malcolm growled from the shadows. His jacket was worn, too, the once-sturdy material now frayed at the edges. His boots thudded against the floor as he shifted uneasily, his muscular bulk seeming out of place in the cramped, shabby room.
“Funny?” The girl smiled, but it was a razor-thin thing, just enough to show she wasn’t afraid. “Funny doesn’t pay. I’m here for serious business, Malcolm, but judging by the way you’re sweating, you look more like the punchline.”
“We don’t joke about this stuff,” Malcolm snapped, slamming a palm against the counter beside her. She didn’t flinch, but her eyes flicked downward to the spot where his hand now rested—dangerously close to her thigh. She crossed her legs slowly, the plaid fabric shifting, and popped the lollipop out of her mouth with a seductive click. The faintest grin tugged at the corner of her lips.
“Relax, big guy,” she said, her voice low, velvet-like, and dripping with condescension. “You hired me because I’m good. And because no one expects a schoolgirl with candy to pull off the job you want.”
Malcolm scowled, but he backed off, retreating with heavy steps to lean against the wall. He ran a distracted hand through his thick, greying hair and let out a sharp exhale. “You’d better be worth it, Kaia.”
“Oh, I am,” Kaia said, hopping down from the counter. Her skirt swayed as she landed, the pleats falling back into perfect alignment. She adjusted her tie, smoothing the fabric, and then tucked her lollipop back into her mouth like it was a cigarette. “Now, tell me how to get into Lunarko Square without being fried by their defense drones.”
“It’s not that simple,” Malcolm muttered, hesitating. “That place is locked down tighter than—”
“Tighter than your wallet when I charge double for this job?” Kaia interrupted. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and arched one perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “They’ve got Stinger-Class drones running round-the-clock? I know. EMP nets? Been there. A hydra-level AI on watch? Cute tech, but I have better.”
Malcolm hesitated. There was something unnerving about her cocky, devil-may-care attitude. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should have hired someone else. But then he doubted anyone else would even make it past Lunarko’s perimeter scans, let alone into the data vault that housed the precious coordinates.
“You’ve got no idea what you’re walking into,” he finally said, his voice dropping lower. “They’ll kill you, and they won’t even bother sweeping up your ashes.”
Kaia paused for the first time, the lollipop dipping slightly. Her sharp green gaze locked onto Malcolm’s, and for a moment, he felt something old and primal stir inside him—fear. But then she smirked again, the moment dissolving. She leaned in close, her voice a whisper full of mischief.
“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught.”
She turned toward the doorway, grabbing a sleek black bag she had stashed earlier. It was filled with gear Malcolm only half understood, but he had a nagging suspicion none of it was on the approved market. As she walked out the door, the lollipop went click again, her delicate fingers holding it daintily against her lips. All he could do was watch her go.
The storm outside was getting worse, lightning flashing dangerously close to the ground. Kaia tilted her head upward, letting the rain kiss her skin as she sauntered into the night. For a girl in a school uniform with an oversized grin and a deadly plan, the chaos outside felt just about right.
Tomorrow, she thought, Lunarko Square would remember her name.
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Blue Plaid Schoolgirl Cosplay: Playful Fashion Meets Anime Glam
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