The industrial hallway was silent except for the faint hum of flickering fluorescent lights above. Pipes lined the curved walls, some hissing faintly as vapor escaped their rusted joints. The space had the eerie sterility of a place long abandoned but still somehow alive. That’s when she emerged, her silhouette framed in the blinding white fluorescence at the end of the corridor. From a distance, she looked like a ghost—a figure from another time, haunting the neglected remnants of a technological era long past.
As she stepped closer, the stark modernity of her outfit sharpened her ethereal presence. Her platinum blonde bob cut framed her face harshly, a stunning contrast to the strange mask she wore. It was porcelain white with distorted details—a wide grin that seemed to shift in the light, and circular etchings that resembled buttons. Her eyes, hidden beneath the mask, made her unknowable and twice as haunting.
The black leather ensemble that clung to her figure was both armor and art. The cut-outs at her shoulders and down her sides were daring and futuristic, revealing hints of pale skin beneath. Dark lace accents threaded intricately along her bodice, curving around her chest in designs that teased and taunted. The material was supple yet sleek, an avant-garde blend of elegance and rebellion. Her thigh-high leather boots clicked rhythmically against the metal floor, the pointed heels giving her a commanding edge, while her fitted black gloves extended up her forearms, completing the ensemble with drama and precision.
Her presence demanded attention, and none more so than from Jonas, watching wide-eyed from the safety of the shadows. A former hacker turned scavenger, Jonas had been picking through derelict machinery in search of anything he could sell. The moment she had appeared, he froze, wondering if she was even human—or something built by the old world he sought to salvage. He had heard rumors of “Machine Messengers”—beings that walked the ruins of the automated age, neither wholly android nor completely alive. Was this one of them?
“You’ve been watching me,” she said suddenly, her voice crystalline and sharp. It startled Jonas so much he nearly dropped the rusted panel he was examining. The acoustics of the corridor turned her statement into a hollow echo, reverberating through the empty space.
“I—I wasn’t—” he stuttered, fumbling backward into a stack of worn-out gears. His throat was dry, fear overtaking his curiosity. Who—or what—was she?
Unhurried, she tilted her head slightly, as if surveying him like a predator deciding whether or not to pounce. The grin on the mask seemed alive now, exaggerating the feeling of being outmatched. Her movements were methodical as she approached, her gloved hands hanging at her sides, fingers twitching in unseen patterns. Beneath the leather and lace, there was an aura of something more—someone who had seen too much and couldn’t be touched by the likes of Jonas.
“I’ve been tracking you,” she said softly. “You’ve been tampering with relics you don’t understand.”
Jonas blinked, his confusion mounting. Every word she spoke felt like a line taken from some theatrical, post-apocalyptic drama. “Look,” he began, cautiously edging to his feet, “I don’t want any trouble. I’m just trying to make a living, okay? I don’t know what you’re accusing me of.”
She stopped abruptly, the dramatic lines of her costume catching the sterile light in angular reflections. The asymmetry of the lace along her collar framed her, creating an image so bold and intricate Jonas felt time itself hanging in suspense. Without removing the mask, she let out a low chuckle—not friendly, but not entirely hostile either.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said. “You’re already in trouble. But I can fix it if you tell me: where is the core?”
“The core?” Jonas repeated, his voice cracking. He had no clue what she meant, but her presence demanded surrender—answers he didn’t have, or perhaps ones locked in the depths of his subconscious. He remembered the object he’d found yesterday, small and glowing with a faint blue light, tucked away in a steel box beneath piles of rubble. Could that be what she meant?
She stepped even closer, and he caught the faintest scent of leather—pristine and cold, like the polished interior of an ancient war machine. The polished edges of her boots were near enough to reflect his terrified expression.
“You’re wasting my time,” she murmured, her gloves flexing ominously. “I would hate to have to… encourage you.”
“Wait, wait!” Jonas blurted, thrusting his hands in front of him in surrender. “I might know what you’re talking about! I found something yesterday. A—uh—blue thing. Glowing. But I didn’t know what it was!”
The tension in the air thickened, and her posture straightened. For the first time, he sensed relief from her—not that she relaxed entirely, but that she was satisfied to not need violence. Yet. She leaned closer to him, letting the smooth layers of her avant-garde costume give a faint creak as leather stretched against her frame. Her voice fell to a low, deliberate whisper.
“Take me to it.”
Jonas nodded quickly, fumbling to gather his things. As she followed him out of the corridor, her boots clicking in precise unison, Jonas couldn’t help but wonder: who was she? Protector? Nemesis? A warning of the past—or a preview of the future? All he knew for certain was that she wasn’t like anything he’d ever encountered before. Her mask grinned back at him as they disappeared into the ghostly maze of machinery, daring him to try and decipher her mysteries before it was too late.
And somewhere, in the dim recesses of the industrial horizon, the hum of forgotten machines stirred once again.
The source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: 2B Cosplay Breakdown: The Platinum Standard for Futuristic Fashion
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