High above the buzzing sprawl of Neo-Tokyo, a cyber geisha named Kiko stood topless on a rain-slicked rooftop, her black shiny trousers glistening under the flickering neon signs. The downpour plastered her synthetic hair to her face, but she didn’t care, her circuits were waterproof, and her attitude was fireproof. Around her neck, a slave collar glowed a cheeky neon pink, clashing hilariously with the serious vibe of her high-tech belt, which beeped and blinked like a confused Tamagotchi.
Kiko wasn’t there for some tragic cyberpunk brooding session. No, she’d been hired to crash a virtual karaoke party hosted by a sleazy megacorp exec who’d stiffed her on a gig. Her plan? Stand in the rain, hack their holo-feed, and project her dripping, defiant self onto their screens mid-song, tits out, collar flashing, and trousers so tight they squeaked when she moved.
“Sing this, you tone-deaf bastard,” she muttered, syncing her collar to blast a distorted version of “Sweet Caroline” through their system. The exec’s face went from smug to scarlet as his guests shrieked, half in horror, half in delight. Kiko struck a pose, rain streaking down her torso, and smirked as her belt hacked their vending bots to dispense nothing but soy sauce packets for the next week.
By the time the corp’s security drones buzzed up to shoo her off, Kiko was already gone, leaving only a trail of wet footprints and a neon-pink glow fading into the night. Somewhere in the city below, she cackled, plotting her next gig: topless, trousered, and totally unapologetic.