The blade gleamed like liquid night under the twin suns of Mars. Selene crouched low on the red rock outcrop, her breath steady despite the adrenaline roaring through her veins. The city of Tharsis sprawled below, its glass domes glinting like a scattering of molten stars against the red desert expanse. Within its hidden alleys and towering spires of chrome, her target waited: Viktor Askov, the most elusive and dangerous man on the planet. Or so they said. She smiled faintly behind her black face mask. Tonight, he would be nothing more than another mark.
Her sleek black swimsuit, tailored to move with her body like a second skin, absorbed the desolate Martian wind without a whisper of sound. Each chain accessory on her gear seemed weightless, engineered to function silently, catching the light only when she desired. In her gloved hands, she gripped her trademark weapon: a matte black dagger laced with phase-shifting nanites that could tear through any material known to humanity. Her lean physique was that of someone honed by years of lethal precision—compact yet devastating to those who underestimated her. She was a specter of the night, and she knew it.
Above her, the skies blazed with auroras, electromagnetic storms painting the heavens in swirling greens and purples. Mars in the 23rd century wasn’t merely a desolate wasteland; it was alive, humming with the humankind’s ambition. Tharsis had risen from the sands like a phoenix, the first true megacity of another world—a monumental statement of humanity’s defiance of its own limits. Yet here, amidst all this technological glory, shadows still thrived, and Selene was their queen.
A Flashback to Earth
Years earlier, when Earth was still her home, Selene had been just a girl in the slums of Shanghai, a sprawling vertical city that reached both the heavens and the deepest pits of despair. She had lived amidst monochrome shadows and neon lights, stealing scraps to survive until the day she caught the attention of the Widow’s Order, a clandestine organization of assassins. “You have a shadow’s heart,” their leader had told her, a tall woman with silver eyes cold enough to freeze the ocean. “We will make you a blade.”
Selene had spent a decade under their tutelage, training in the ways of silent death—poisons, hand-to-hand combat, weapons most had only seen in fiction. They taught her to become a phantom, untethered by morality, but yearning for purpose in the hollow silence of her own making. By the time she left Earth for the colonies, she was already a legend whispered in corporate corridors and underworld dens alike.
The Heist Unfolds
Back in Tharsis, her black boots made no sound as she slipped through the maintenance corridor of the Eastern Dome. It smelled of burning silicon and stimcaf, the lifeblood of endless Martian shift workers. Ahead, twin guards lounged against a cargo loader, their rifles dangling loosely at their sides. Amateurs. Selene moved like a wisp, her gloved fingers brushing her dagger. In an instant, she was behind them. The first guard crumpled without a sound, the dagger sliding effortlessly between the plates of his armor. The second guard had only time to blink before darkness claimed him too.
Inside the heart of the dome, Viktor Askov sat in his private penthouse—a floating glass platform suspended above the city, held aloft by anti-gravity pylons. Selene ascended using her grappling siphon, her slim frame silhouetted momentarily against the glittering cityscape. The wind whipped at her face mask, teasing strands of dark hair loose as she landed atop the platform without a sound.
The Showdown
“You’ve come far, Selene,” a voice drawled behind her. Viktor was waiting, lounging in a chair, a snifter of glowing green liquid in his hand. He was tall and muscular, dressed in a crimson suit that contrasted sharply with his ebony skin. His eyes gleamed like molten gold, unnervingly intense.
Selene didn’t speak. She lunged. The fight exploded like a symphony of chaos—his blade against hers in a dance of sparks and ferocity. He moved with surprising speed, his weapon a monomolecular whip that arced with deadly precision. But Selene was faster. Smarter. Every strike she delivered seemed calculated, her black chain glinting as she used it to trap and disarm him.
But Viktor wasn’t merely a man. As her dagger found his chest, he smiled—a cold, knowing smile. The nanites of her blade recoiled, a cascade of energy shielding him. “You think you hunt me,” he whispered, his voice seeming to echo inside her skull. “But you are merely another blade in someone else’s hand.”
The Twist
In the moment of her hesitation, Viktor struck. Selene tried to dodge, but his whip coiled around her like a snake, its energy burning through her suit. “Do you know why they sent you?” Viktor asked, stepping closer as she struggled. “Because they fear me. But they’ll soon fear you even more.”
With a sudden jolt, the whip slackened, and Viktor stepped away. “The Widow’s Order doesn’t care about you, Selene. They never did. Your fight is with them, not me.”
He turned his back to her, walking toward the edge of the platform. “Leave now, and you’ll live. Stay, and you’ll see just how deep the shadows truly go.” With that, he vanished into the night, a jetpack flaring to life beneath his suit.
A New Mission
Selene stood there, her body trembling not from fear but from the weight of Viktor’s words. The blade in her hand suddenly felt heavier, its purpose unclear. Below her, the city of Tharsis glittered like a galaxy of stars, but for the first time, she felt cold amidst its brilliance.
She removed her mask, letting the night air touch her face. The question buzzed in her mind: who was the real enemy? For now, she didn’t have the answer. But as she descended back into the shadows of Tharsis, she swore she would find it—even if it meant tearing her world apart.
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Black Swimsuit Assassin Costume Ideas for Cosplay: Inspiration for Your Killer Look
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