The city of Neo Avalon pulsed with light, a labyrinth of towering holograms and crimson neon streaks painting the sky, making it hard to distinguish between reality and advertisement-fed illusions. The nights here were dangerous, and that was exactly how Kira liked it. She prowled the streets, her figure slender yet powerful, cloaked in the kind of sleek, high-tech bodysuit only a true operative or a fearless rogue could pull off. She wasn’t just a woman in an outfit—she was a vision, a battlefield deity, her armor gleaming as though it breathed with life.
The suit clung to her frame like a second skin, dark tones interwoven with strokes of pastel pink and soft blue that radiated subtle luminescence in the dim, artificial glow of the streetlights. Panels along her arms and legs shifted faintly with motion, their fiber-optic threads lighting up with every step, creating a fluid cascade of energy. Her chest armor bore a faint emblem—a stylized rabbit, the symbol of her renegade status. It wasn’t a badge; it was a warning. This wasn’t just someone’s idea of cosplay. No, Kira was the real thing, precise and lethal.
Her long, dark hair flowed behind her like a jet-black ribbon, framing her striking features. Resting atop her head were headphones with pink accents, a fusion of tech and style, functional yet undeniably evocative of playfulness. The glowing earpieces emitted faint signals, their purpose known only to her, but the contrast between the technological coldness and her heat as a figure of rebellion was impossible to ignore. Across her cheeks, pink streaks followed the curves of her high cheekbones—marks of war or possibly of identity, remnants of a tradition lost in time.
Her weapon stole the spotlight, though—a gleaming pink plasma cannon held effortlessly in her hands. It was bold, unapologetic, vibrant. Heat radiated from the barrel, still faint from the encounter moments before. A gang of techno-thieves had tried their luck in the lower districts, hijacking illegal AI shipments. They hadn’t counted on Kira—or “Neon Huntress,” as the city’s wanted lists called her—intercepting their operation. She hunted them like a predator in the shadows, emerging in full view only when she was ready to strike.
The battle just minutes ago had been a dance of light and fury. Kira had moved like liquid quicksilver, her body blending with the city itself—ducking behind holographic displays, sliding along rain-slicked metal beams, jumping from crumbling rooftops. When the time came to engage, she did so with unrelenting precision. She wasn’t local law enforcement; she didn’t come with the hesitation of questions. She came with answers, and hers were delivered in bursts of searing plasma and blinding neon light.
The headphones on her head buzzed faintly, and her mirrored visor lit up with a transparent user interface. A voice, gentle yet firm, filled her ears. “Zone clear. No remaining signatures detected.” It was Ava, her AI partner, who served as both her tactical guide and confidant. Kira smirked, brushing her dark hair back from her face as she deactivated the HUD and slid the visor upward to reveal her intense, hazel eyes.
“They never learn,” she murmured, kicking at a discarded drone that twitched on the pavement, its circuits fried beyond repair. Layers of smoke twisted into the air, blending with the artificial fog of the city. Her suit felt warm under the collar from the intense activity, but it adapted quickly, small vents at the shoulders hissing as they released excess energy—a feature far beyond the mere realm of fashion.
She stepped forward, her boots clicking on the alloy flooring. Pieces of the night reflected on her—glimpses of broken neon signs, the cold moon trapped in steel reflections. Even wounded, the city was breathtaking in its dystopian beauty. Kira sighed, letting her gaze drift upward. The towering skyline loomed around her, threatening to consume even someone as resilient as herself. Yet for all its immensity, Neo Avalon was nothing more than her playground—a living hive of criminals, corrupt AI, and secret corporate plots. And she was its antithesis, its unexpected hero and, at times, its thorn in the side.
“Huntress to Ava,” Kira said as she holstered her pink plasma weapon, the lightweight yet powerful design locking securely at her hip. Its faint magenta glow dimmed, no longer a beacon of war but a reminder of her presence. “Run a city-wide scan. I want to know if any of the brokers behind this shipment are still lurking. If there’s a trail, I’ll follow it.”
Ava’s mechanical yet feminine voice hummed to life again. “Understood. Processing… There’s a lead, 15 blocks northeast. Coordinates marked. Expect heavy resistance—bio-augmented guards detected.”
Kira’s smile deepened. Resistance? That was practically an invitation to her. She checked her suit’s status on her wrist-mounted console and began to move, the sound of her steps swallowed by the hum of Neo Avalon’s night. She was a phantom, a shadow with purpose, her silhouette cutting through the flickering ambience like a blade.
The world could try and break her, over and over again. But she had long since decided something vital—she wasn’t the one running scared.
The source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: D.Va Overwatch Cosplay: How to Nail Her Look with Style
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