The streets of Neon City never slept. A ceaseless blaze of neon lights bathed the metallic skyscrapers and bustling roads in a kaleidoscope of colors. From high above, the city seemed to pulse with life—midnight black skies fractured by the glow of holographic advertisements, shooting across the towering, reflective structures that reached the heavens. But that night, amidst the speeders gliding on levitating highways and the hum of digital transactions, something about Neon City felt off. Something elusive prowled within the restless streets.
Taryn stepped out of the shadows cast by a massive holo-poster and smirked, her eyes flicking up to the looming image of a celebrity’s face beaming down at the crowd, oblivious to the darkness just beneath their noses.
Her crimson bodysuit clung snugly to her flawless physique, emphasizing every curve, every motion of her lithe frame. The suit wasn’t just for looks. Made of an advanced polymer blend that reflected any light that dare touch it, it was woven to protect, to enhance, and to seduce—all elements she had perfected throughout her work in the underground network of handlers that controlled the hidden power of the megacity. Its vivid red hue was broken by carefully designed cutouts, revealing slivers of pale, perfect skin underneath, as if daring anyone to glimpse at her—but only on her terms. White accents ran delicately along the edges of her garment, completing the electric aesthetic that made her look like she had stepped from the very future itself.
Her long, cotton-candy pink hair cascaded down her back, catching the glow of the neon world around her in soft magentas and shimmering reflections. The hair was braided in certain spots, loose in others, suggesting both carelessness and acute precision—a style that perfectly mirrored the poise she carried as she navigated through the dark alleys. Atop her head rested her signature: a headpiece adorned with vivid red horns, curving back in defiance, and starkly marking her as both otherworldly and dangerous. Passersby wouldn’t dare to meet her gaze, but they couldn’t resist letting their eyes linger for one more glimpse of the bold grooves and angles of her costume as Taryn moved effortlessly through the throng of anonymous faces.
She was Zero Two, or at least that’s what the sector called her. They never saw who she really was. Those who did? Well, they wouldn’t get the chance twice.
A Glimpse of the Target
The job was simple but critical. A shipment of stolen nano-crystals had gone missing, and the client—a high-ranking operative in The Syndicate—was desperate to retrieve it without the city’s enforcers finding out. But it wasn’t the shipment that intrigued Taryn. It was the handler that had gone rogue. He knew better than to cross this line—too much money, too much power was at stake. His betrayal was an anomaly in her otherwise predictably violent world.
Her boots, made of the same reflective material as her suit, snapped against the slick pavement. She glided down a narrow passageway between two towering superstructures, her heart picking up pace as she approached the back-alley market where intel pinned the rogue handler. Her movements were deliberate, a predator in neon-spun silk, ready to strike but making sure to savor the game.
As she turned the corner, she spotted him. Argon Kross. He was surrounded by clumsy henchmen, their bulk intimidating to most who ventured into the depths of Neon City. But her? They were little more than props in this twisted play.
Taryn sauntered closer, her red suit glowing like a warning beacon. Her playfulness belied the lethality beneath the surface. She smiled, coy and mischievous, her pink hair trailing as she tilted her head slightly, allowing the artificial winds of the city to push a few strands into the air. She saw Kross’s group tense but laugh nervously as their eyes traced over the cutouts of her suit, grazing at the skin left bare beneath. How predictable. Men feared the unknown, but they couldn’t resist trying to look too closely. She practically fed off their gaze.
“Kross,” she whispered under her breath, her voice barely audible above the street noise.
The Game Begins
Kross approached her, confident but tensed as his eyes scanned her. He knew who she was. Knew what she could do.
“Zero Two, they should have sent someone else if they wanted me back,” Kross growled, his rough tone meant to intimidate. Yet he couldn’t disguise the millisecond flicker of uncertainty in his face. He had heard too many stories about her.
“But they didn’t,” Taryn retorted, her supple lips forming a daring smile. “They sent me because they knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” She tilted her head, horns gleaming under the vibrant strobes of a passing hover-car. The neon reflections played games across the latex sheen of her suit, making her appear as if she were woven from the very lights of the city.
Without warning, she sidestepped, moving faster than the eye could follow. Her hand slid around the back of one henchman’s neck as she deftly plunged a sharp nanoblade into his side, reveling in the glorious, pulsing hum of his collapse. In a blur of crimson, she twisted, using the man’s falling form as leverage to launch herself into Kross’s personal space.
Kross stumbled back, shocked by her elegance and deadly speed. The crowd scattered in chaotic disarray, screams filling the air as her perfectly calculated movements tore through anyone dumb enough to confront her. Another lunge, a feigner step, and she was on Kross, pinning him against the cold surface of a flickering holo-sign.
Her body pressed against him, red and sharp like a bloody whisper of peril, as she leaned in close to his face. “Now why don’t you tell me where you’ve hidden those nanocrystals,” she whispered, her voice a lull of seduction and danger. Her thumb brushed absentmindedly over the exposed skin at her waist, teasing his gaze downward—just before the cold glint of her blade caught his throat.
Kross’s breath quickened in fear, his once confident demeanor shattered like glass beneath her penetrating eyes.
“Alright, alright!” he gasped, his voice cracking. “I—I sold them off. But they’re still here in the city. I can take you to them. Just… don’t…” The shiver in his voice was punctuated by the sharp grind of her weapon against his neck.
Taryn cocked her head to the side, her posture almost playful, as if deciding whether he was worth sparing. Then, with a quick flick, she removed the blade, smirking. “Smart boy. We’re going to have a lovely evening together,” she teased, her icy, seductive tone sending chills down his spine. As Kross lead her deeper into the dark recesses of Neon City, Taryn’s polished boots echoed with the promise of swift, fatal retribution. This was her city, and no rogue handler could hope to escape Neon City’s hidden siren.
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