The neon skyline of Neo-Tokyo sprawled like an electric web, vibrating with energy as far as the eye could see. Stark metallic skyscrapers scraped the red-tinged clouds, their reflective glass streaked with holographic advertisements. Airships hovered in the background, their humming engines a distant lullaby over the cacophony of speeding hover-cars and chattering crowds below. It was the final day of the annual Cosplay World Convocation, hosted in the enormous glass dome of the Kanjiro Plaza. A festival of color, creativity, and chaos.
Alex Vega stood on the edge of the high megaplex balcony, the crowds teeming below like an ocean of humanity. They’d gone all out this year for their costume—black leather body armor stitched with crimson threads, striking a balance between battle-worn and stylish. A long, flowing scarlet cape swept behind them as a fake cybernetic arm clung to their left side, its machinery gleaming under the overhead fluorescents. Their hair was dyed silver, cut in sharp edgy strands that screamed ‘anime protagonist,’ and their violet contact lenses glowed faintly, courtesy of built-in LEDs. Alex’s outfit had already earned dozens of photo requests, each met with their trademark roguish grin and a small yet confident flourish of their stolen prop dagger. They lived for this.
But there was a tension brewing beneath the bright lights tonight—Alex could feel it in the air, buzzing like the electric pulse of a short circuit.
The Encounter
Alex was adjusting their cape as they descended the escalator into the central atrium, a massive, futuristic hall blazing with neon. Cosplayers brushed past them in every direction—warriors, princesses, mech-pilots, aliens, each more vibrant than the last. Their boots clicked against the polished obsidian floor as they scanned for familiar faces in the chaos.
That’s when it happened. A stranger in a grotesque, overly menacing costume—something involving retractable blades and dark robes—stepped into Alex’s space. They were tall, lean, and cloaked in shadowy fabric. Their mask obscured most of their face except for unsettling golden lenses where eyes should have been. Before Alex could react, the stranger leaned in too close.
“Nice cyber arm,” they hissed, their breath disturbingly too warm against Alex’s cheek. Their gloved hand hovered uncomfortably near Alex’s shoulder. “Where’d you get it?”
Alex stiffened, caught off guard. “Uh, thanks. Online store,” they said curtly, moving to step around them. But the stranger sidestepped, blocking their path.
“Don’t be shy,” the masked figure continued, voice slippery like grease. “Gimme a closer look.” Without waiting for permission, the stranger grabbed Alex’s cybernetic arm. Their smile faltered, eyes widening as fury surged beneath their polished exterior.
“Hands off,” Alex snapped, yanking their arm free while taking a step back. Their voice echoed louder than they’d expected, drawing the attention of nearby con-goers. A hush rippled outward, the noise of the convention momentarily subdued.
The stranger tilted their head, unfazed, before muttering something unintelligible and slithering back into the crowd. Alex trembled slightly but squared their shoulders, ignoring the lingering stares of onlookers.
The Incident
Later that evening, Alex found sanctuary in the quieter upper dome gardens where neon sakura trees glittered against a simulated night sky. The air was cooler here, distant from the heat of the swelling crowds. They sat at the edge of a koi pond, the water shimmering with holographic fish—a marvel of artistic engineering. Tugging off the cybernetic arm, they massaged their real one underneath, trying to shake the tension from their encounter.
“Some people,” Alex muttered to themself, their reflection rippling in the pond. Conventions were supposed to be a safe space for fans to express their passions. Countless initiatives—“Cosplay is not consent” being the loudest refrain—had been raised over the years to combat harassment, yet it still crept into places like poison.
A faint crunch of gravel drew Alex’s attention. A figure stepped into the garden—the same shadowy costume, blades retracting and extracting with a slow, metallic click. Alex’s stomach churned, fingers tightening around the dagger they’d stashed earlier. This wasn’t a coincidence anymore.
“You again,” Alex said, standing tall even as their pulse quickened. “What do you want? I told you no.”
The stranger said nothing. Instead, they flicked a switch on their wrist, and the golden lenses of their mask flared dangerously bright. Then, with a burst of unexpected speed, they lunged.
The Fight
Adrenaline surged through Alex’s veins as they sidestepped just in time, the stranger’s blade slicing through the air where they’d been a second ago. Their own reflexes were sharper than they’d realized, honed from years of stunt choreography and sparring in online VR sims. The curved dagger in their hand felt heavier as they gripped it tightly.
“Are you serious right now?” Alex growled, dodging again as the stranger attacked. Each movement was too precise, too practiced—this wasn’t just some unhinged fan playing pretend. Whoever this was, they were dangerous.
The garden became a war zone of flashing steel and flickering neon light. Alex ducked under a blow, spinning to deliver a slash across the stranger’s robes. They didn’t flinch, but Alex caught a glimpse of pale skin beneath the tear.
“You think you can just do whatever you want?” Alex shouted, parrying another strike. The force sent vibrations up their arm, but they held firm. “This community isn’t for you!”
With a final burst of momentum, Alex knocked the stranger off balance, pinning them to the ground. Their mask clattered off, revealing a cold, smug face—a man with sharp, angular features and a mocking smile. Alex’s outrage burned hotter.
“Do better,” Alex snarled, letting them go with a shove. “Next time you put your hands on someone without permission, think twice. Now get out of here.”
The man scrambled away, disappearing into the shadows. Alex stood there for a long moment, chest heaving. Their reflection stared up from the pond, bruised but unbroken.
The Aftermath
By the time Alex returned to the atrium, they were met with applause. Someone had filmed the fight, and the footage had already gone viral—fans from across the convention rallied around them, holding up signs with the familiar slogan. What had started as an unsettling encounter turned into a renewed movement, the community standing stronger than before.
Alex smiled, bruises still aching but heart alight. They donned their cape once more, stepping into the crowd with newfound resolve. The world might be imperfect, but as long as voices like theirs echoed, change was always possible.
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Is cosplay not consent rules?
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