The Lollipop Wars

The air buzzed faintly with the rhythmic hum of neon lights, a symphony of electric blues and purples casting angular shadows across the glossy metallic walls. Deep within the throbbing heart of Metro City X—a sprawling, futuristic colony teetering at the edge of chaos—she strode confidently, each step a declaration. Her heels clicked against the polished pavement, sharp as gunfire, echoing through the crowded yet eerily tense corridor of the Inter-District Bazaar.

The woman was a vision, unapologetically commanding every ounce of attention without uttering a single word. Her vivid pink hair cascaded in silky strands down her shoulders, the artificial light refracting off it in mesmerizing bursts of color. It framed her freckled face exquisitely, accentuating the glowing green eyes beneath sweeping lashes. Those eyes glimmered unnaturally, like something coded into her DNA—too sharp to be entirely human, too captivating to look away.

She wore a striking outfit that toed the line between playful and menacing. The halter-neck top clung to her like second skin, its deep crimson hue stark against the stark whiteness of the sleek detailing along its edges. A daring cut-out revealed a sliver of taut, smooth skin beneath her collarbone, teasing yet calculated. The material shimmered, glossy like liquid fire, hugging her curves so sublimely it could have been poured straight onto her frame. Small horn-like accessories adorned either side of her temples, their sharp, minimalist design reminiscent of alien royalty or a demon queen pulled from the pages of a long-forgotten myth.

And then there was the lollipop. Bright pink to match her hair, she twirled it playfully in her gloved fingers before sliding it between her lips. It was a gesture so innocently suggestive it compelled onlookers to either blush like children caught doing something wrong or avert their gazes entirely. The lollipop stuck out from between her glossy lips as she bit down softly, a crystalline crack breaking through the murmur of voices around her.

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“Scarlet Echo,” someone hissed. The name spread through the market faster than flame through dry grass.

“Scarlet Echo,” she repeated quietly to herself, a smirk tugging at the corners of her candy-colored lips. Her voice was like silken steel. She relished the name; it cracked with a bite of legend, yet it weighed on her shoulders as if it could ignite a war.

The Encounter

As Scarlet strolled deeper into the bazaar, the air seemed to shift. Merchants pulled their wares closer, their holographic displays flickering from brilliant advertisements to muted tones. Bystanders averted their eyes, whispering her name with tones that mixed fear and reverence. And there, at the center square, stood another figure—a man. Tall and severe, draped in an iridescent black cloak that rippled like oil under the plasma lights. His piercing orange gaze locked onto Scarlet as though he’d been waiting for her all along.

“So,” he said, his voice a sonorous boom that cut through the space. “You’re actually here.”

Scarlet stopped mid-step, planting one hand on her hip. Her glossy costume gleamed as she tilted her head, mock curiosity brimming in her expression. “Let me guess,” she said, her voice dripping with dry amusement. “You’re the big, bad bounty hunter sent to collect me? Or did they promise you credits?”

The man smirked, unfazed by her biting tone. Underneath the cocky veneer, she noted the telltale stiffness in his stance—a deep-rooted nervousness masked under years of training. “You’re worth far more than credits, Echo. You’re the key, aren’t you? The last fragment of the Old Code.”

The playful demeanor cracked, if only slightly. Her eyes narrowed. Somewhere deep behind that flirtatious mask, the wheels of her mind whirred, piecing together the subtle warnings hidden in his statement.

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“And yet,” she replied, stepping closer, “you’re standing here talking instead of pulling the trigger. Nervous, hunter-boy?”

His gun twitched in its holster, a microsecond’s hesitation she didn’t miss. Scarlet might’ve been decked out in candy-colored cosplay, but she wasn’t the kind of woman anyone crossed lightly. Even the uniformed bounty hunters who scoured every corner of Metro City X knew that much.

The Revelation

“You don’t know what you’re messing with,” the man finally muttered, his voice trembling just enough for Scarlet to catch it. He fumbled in the cloak’s folds before producing a small, shimmering device. Encased in translucent prisms, the object pulsed faintly, as though alive.

Scarlet’s heart twisted. So, it was true. The Old Code—the remnant of a viral program designed to rewrite the laws of physics itself—had been embedded in her DNA. The government wanted her destroyed. The rebels wanted her harnessed. And now someone else wanted to sell her away as if she were some artifact in a black-market trade.

Her fingers curled into fists, but outwardly, her expression didn’t twitch. “Fun toy,” she quipped, popping the lollipop out of her mouth with a quiet pop. “So what happens if I break that little gadget of yours?”

“You die,” he snarled, the feigned confidence slipping from his tone.

Scarlet rolled her eyes as if the treacherous irony of her existence hadn’t already sunk in. She let the lollipop dangle between her fingers, its sugary tip glinting under the tower-like hologram above her. “Then let’s play a game,” she murmured, moving so fast the market blurred.

The Fight

The square erupted into chaos. Scarlet’s movements were a blur of crimson and white, her glossy costume becoming a flash of light against her opponent’s shadowy garb. She feinted left, then propelled herself upward, driving a small, concealed blade toward his neck. He twisted just in time, sparks flying as her blade screeched off a hidden force shield.

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“Predictable,” he sneered, raising his blaster, but Scarlet was already twirling sideways, her foot connecting with his wrist with a punishing crack.

The lollipop clattered to the ground, forgotten amidst the panicked screams of fleeing onlookers. Scarlet seized the distraction, landing behind him with a dancer’s grace, her blade now snug against his throat.

“Two moves ahead, sweetheart,” she whispered before delivering a knockout blow that sent the bounty hunter slumping to the electrified floor.

The Escape

She didn’t wait for applause. Sirens wailed in the distance, and Scarlet knew better than to stick around for drama. Scooping up her lollipop, she twirled it between her fingers as she disappeared into the shadows of the bazaar’s labyrinthine alleys. Her pink hair swayed, trailing behind her like a comet’s tail.

As she stuffed the lollipop back into her mouth, she allowed herself a wry smile. The Old Code might have made her a target, but it also made her unstoppable. And Scarlet Echo wasn’t just another name whispered in fear.

She was a legend in the making.

The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Zero Two Cosplay: Flaunt Your Inner Darling with Style

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