The metallic roar of the car engine pierced the humid air, drowning out the murmurs of the nightclub a block away. Underneath the throbbing beats of distant bass, the azure skyline hummed with twilight as streaks of orange dissipated into nightfall. Palms swayed lazily in the breeze, their shadows stretching longer with every passing moment. With one final rev, the sleek, obsidian-black muscle car came to a halt, its gull-wing doors slicing upwards like the wings of an impatient bird of prey.
She stepped out with a languid air of superiority, one leg crossing over the other with precision as her light pink bikini caught the last traces of sunlight. The sequins embedded in the fabric shimmered like fireflies. Her blonde hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the glint of the neon lights flickering to life behind her. She adjusted the strap of her matching pink stiletto heel and took a sip from the plastic cup in her hand, the drink’s ice cubes clinking softly. Her smirk widened as her reflection glared back in the car’s polished surface. If anyone were to storyboard confidence, this was the apex shot.
The backdrop was electric—a winding stretch of road framed by ultra-modern skyscrapers, their high-gloss facades reflecting pools of molten gold. Behind them, the distant shoreline shimmered under a full moon, mirroring the endless ocean. The city was alive, chaotic, indifferent. And Veronica Noire thrived on that indifference.
“Vee… they’re late,” a low voice crackled through the earpiece nestled discreetly in her hair. It was Felix, her handler—nervous, cautious Felix, who always over-planned. “Tell me you have a visual.”
She rolled her emerald-green eyes. “Relax, Felix. They’re here.”
Just as she finished, two bikes careened into view at breakneck speed, their riders cloaked in black leather. The red glow of their taillights starkly contrasted with the cool sheen of the asphalt. They skidded to a halt five feet away from her, gravel flying. Masks concealed their faces, but their silence betrayed the tension in the air. One of them dismounted and approached her with sharp, deliberate steps, a metal case in hand.
“You have half the cash?” he demanded, voice muffled by the mask’s vocoder.
Veronica took another lazy sip of her drink and arched a brow. “You think I’d show up to a deal in heels with anything less? Check the trunk.” She tossed him the keys, the pink fluffy charm attached to it spinning midair.
The rider caught it, throwing a scrutinizing glance her way before nodding to his companion. The second rider approached the car, weapons holstered but not forgotten, and popped open the trunk. Inside, tightly packed bundles of cash rested like bricks in a fortress. The silent rider gave a thumbs-up.
“Satisfied?” Veronica asked, pushing the sunglasses that sat low on her nose up. “Now, the case.”
The man hesitated for a split second before placing the metal case on the hood of the muscle car. She leaned forward, her manicured fingers unlatched the locks with a practiced flick. Inside, nestled against a bed of black foam, lay something unassuming: a flash drive. Yet its unassuming nature belied its value—it was worth more than the car, the cash, or even the city itself.
Felix’s panicked voice erupted through her earpiece. “Vee! Vee! That’s not the case! Pull out now, they’re setting you up!”
Her fingers froze, her pulse thundering as she gauged their body language. She was good at this—reading people, anticipating their moves. The tension in the lead rider’s shoulders, the slight twitch in his companion’s hand… it all painted a picture. Felix was right.
“Boys,” she said calmly, snapping the case shut and standing upright. “Seems like we’ve got ourselves a little misunderstanding. Why don’t we—”
The lead rider lunged, his hand darting for a concealed blade. In an instant, Veronica backpedaled, her drink flinging violently to the pavement as she grabbed the edge of the upward car door and swung it shut with brutal force. The motion sent him staggering back, buying her just enough time to whip a slim pistol from the thigh strap hidden beneath the hem of her bikini bottom.
The other rider reacted faster than she expected. Out came a shotgun, its barrel leveled squarely at her chest, but her reflexes were honed by years of living on this razor-thin edge. She dove behind the car, its frame absorbing the blast, and came up firing. Her shots were surgical—one to disarm, the other to incapacitate. A cry of pain confirmed her hit.
“Felix, bring the cleanup crew!” she barked, ducking as another shot grazed the windshield. Sparks flew as the glass spiderwebbed, distorting the interior’s neon lights.
The ensuing fight blurred into chaos. Machine clashed against will, and the air bore the acrid smell of burning rubber and gunpowder. By the time Felix’s team arrived—a small fleet of military-grade SUVs—the riders were down but alive, restrained by thick industrial ties.
Felix climbed out of the lead vehicle, his wiry frame trembling as he approached her. “How the hell do you always pull this off?” he stammered, glancing nervously at the carnage.
Veronica shrugged as she adjusted her disheveled straps, now dappled with soot and stray smudges. “Must be the shoes.” With one last smirk, she brushed past him and climbed back into her bullet-riddled car. As the door swung down, sealing her in with the faint scent of vanilla air freshener, she keyed the ignition. The engine purred to life as if nothing had happened.
The tires screeched as she sped off into the vibrant chaos of the city, neon reflections rippling on her windshield. Tomorrow would bring another job, another drink, another near-death experience. And Veronica Noire, in all her glamorous defiance, was ready for every twist it would throw her way.
Genre: Action/Thriller
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Iconic Pink Bikini Cosplay Ideas – Costumes and Inspiration
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