The neon lights of Neo-Tokyo’s district 9 flickered like dying fireflies against the smog-heavy sky. It was the city of second chances, or so they’d said in the brochures—if you could stomach the pollution and the occasional black-market bionic surgeon lurking between skyscraper alleys. The streets below were alive with chaos: hover-bikes weaving in and out of lanes, vendors yelling over one another to sell their handcrafted AI trinkets, and street performers dazzling crowds by projecting illusions directly into their minds. Among them, Ezria walked unnoticed, her figure slender and athletic, dressed in a striking replica of a Galactic Paladin’s armor from the cult holo-series *Solaris Vanguard*. Her silvery armor glinted with the faint glow of simulated cracks streaking through its surface, like glowing fault lines in a forgotten planet. Behind her cracked visor gleamed sharp, amber eyes that missed nothing.
To everyone else, she was just “one of those VR cosplayers.” They didn’t know. They couldn’t know. The armor wasn’t just a costume—it was a shell hiding someone afraid of being seen.
“This is madness,” muttered a voice in Ezria’s comm-link. The voice belonged to Arjun, her closest friend and the only person who knew what she was really doing. His baritone voice carried just a hint of static. “District 9’s crawling with CorpSec. You think they’re just going to let you waltz into their forbidden tower undetected?”
“Not if you’re loud in my ear,” Ezria whispered, her lips curling into a wry smile as she stuck to the shadows. Around her, the backdrop was overwhelmingly cinematic: labyrinths of skyways crisscrossed above her, glistening with drizzling rain, and the towering skyscrapers were encrusted with neon advertisements beamed in fifty different languages. Each step she took sent faint ripples through shallow puddles reflecting the chaos above, the hum of hovercar engines and the distant thunder of a temp-estorm thickening the air.
Ezria’s voice hardened as she slinked closer to her goal: a sleek black monolith in the distance, shimmering as though it had been carved out of liquid obsidian. CyloneCorp’s headquarters. It was here that her life had been torn apart, piece by piece. Her hands clenched tightly on the electro-blade sheathed at her side. This wasn’t a heist. It wasn’t even revenge. This was survival—because her sister’s life depended on what she was about to do. “I told you to trust me,” Ezria said. “Cosplayers know how to blend in everywhere.”
The helmet insulated the sound of her chuckle, but Arjun wasn’t laughing. “Let me guess,” he replied tersely. “That’s one of your holo-series catchphrases?”
“Maybe,” she quipped back, before her muscles tensed. She had reached the entrance, where patrolling CorpSec drones floated above like malevolent halos. Ezria closed her eyes for the briefest moment, exhaling a shaky breath. The faint hum of her armor mods engaged, altering its reflections to match the environment.
The guards didn’t stand a chance. She slipped between their ranks like a shadow weaving between stars.
Memories in the Dark
Ezria’s body felt electrified as she descended farther into the building, one floor after another. The interior was cavernous, almost cathedral-like, all pristine black glass and pulsating data streams racing across the walls like veins in a living organism. Each step dug up memories she’d buried a long time ago—of how CyloneCorp’s experiments tore away her sister’s chance at a normal life. Lila had been just fifteen when her name was added to one of their “volunteer” bioroid trials. A trial she’d never walked out of.
Footsteps echoed, sharp as breaking glass in the silence.
Ezria spun around, her blade already humming with power as a group of sleek, silver humanoid machines stepped into view. Their eyes glowed crimson, scanning her for weaknesses. “Arjun,” she hissed. “What are Cylone’s Ultratechs doing down here? Thought they were still prototypes.”
“Surprise R&D update?” he muttered. “Look, if you don’t—wait. Do you hear that?” The commline wavered, fizzling like old tape static.
Ezria didn’t have time to hear the rest. The Ultratechs lunged as one—a fluid mass of silver and speed. She ducked and rolled instinctively, her combat reflexes as polished as the scarred armor she wore. Sparks shot like miniature fireworks as metal clashed violently against her blade.
The fight was chaos distilled into seconds, the sound of impacts reverberating against the walls. But amidst all the clamor, one thing whispered at the back of her mind: She wasn’t supposed to win. This was a suicide run—she’d known that since the moment she donned the costume.
The Final Scene
Her palms were slick with sweat inside her gloves as she staggered into the central core room. The whir of the Ultratechs still echoed behind her, distant but gaining. Ahead, the room pulsed with violet light—a massive onyx sphere floated midair, connected by pulsating conduits to the tower’s infrastructure.
“I’m here,” she said, almost trembling. “What now?”
Arjun’s voice was barely perceptible. “You cut the conduits. You end this. And… you walk out of there alive, yeah?”
She wanted to laugh at the absurdity but could summon only a weak smile. Her blade came up, slicing through the darkened veins feeding the core with an efficiency born of endless practice. Energy hummed chaotically, and the very walls seemed to tense before erupting into flashes of light. The building shuddered.
“Get out! Ezria!” Arjun was yelling now.
But even as Ezria ran for an exit amidst collapsing walls and Ultratechs scrambling to intercept her, her heart pulsed with something almost alien to her: hope. She leapt clear of the final explosion as flames gutted the monolith behind her, the night sky igniting with its death knell. Rain poured heavily as she lay in the rubble-strewn street, gasping, alive.
Then, a noise stirred her from her relief: the sound of giggling. She sat up and turned. From the haze of smoke came a figure she thought she’d never see again. Lila stood there, draped in a silk-like medical gown, her eyes wide but free of the glassy glaze Ezria had feared. “You saved me,” Lila whispered, her voice a broken hymn. “I wasn’t supposed to wake up. But… you saved me.”
Ezria didn’t know if it was the exhaustion or the rain hiding the tears on her face. All she knew was that the fight wasn’t over—not for the city, not for those CyloneCorp had ruined—but, for the first time in years, she didn’t feel alone in the world she had fought so hard to save.
She hugged her sister in the ash-streaked ruins of District 9, their silhouettes framed by the fading embers of a corporate empire brought to its knees.
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: What do you call someone who does cosplay?
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