Weeks blurred into months, the workshop echoing daily with the crackle of welding torches and the steady clang of hammers. Piece by piece, Glamrock Roxanne began to emerge from the sparks.
First came the shoulder plates—curved steel polished until they gleamed under the lights. Mei nearly cried when she fitted the first one onto a mannequin, running her hand over the smooth curve.
"Looks like something out of a sci-fi movie," Hana said, snapping photos.
Mei grinned. "Just wait until the rest is done."
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Next were the arm bracers and claws. The claws gave her the most trouble. The steel resisted every attempt to bend it into sharp, elegant points. Her hands blistered from hours of effort, but she refused to quit.
At last, after days of trial, she held up a single finished claw. It glinted under the fluorescent light, wicked and beautiful.
She whispered to herself, "Roxanne's got her bite."
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The torso armor tested her patience like nothing before. The plates needed to curve smoothly around the body, flexible enough to allow movement, yet solid enough to look like metal muscle. More than once, Mei collapsed onto the floor, exhausted and frustrated by uneven cuts or warped bends.
Uncle Jian would simply hand her a bottle of water and say, "Steel only yields to persistence."
And persistence became Mei's weapon.
When she finally assembled the torso, it looked stunning—sleek, powerful, shimmering under a thin coat of metallic paint she had carefully chosen. Hana gasped when she saw it.
"Mei… it's like you pulled her right out of the game."
Mei's smile trembled, tears threatening again. "And she's only half-finished."
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Piece by piece, the wolf took shape. The claws, the legs, the shining armor plates—every part forged from sweat, fire, and sleepless nights.
One evening, Mei stood back, staring at the assembled mannequin draped in half-complete armor. The neon-purple streaks she had painted on the plates gleamed like lightning bolts.
Her chest tightened. It wasn't just cosplay anymore. This was art. This was her dream, welded and hammered into reality.
Uncle Jian stepped beside her, crossing his arms. "Not bad, Little Flame. You've given Roxanne a body. All that's left is to give her a soul."
Mei nodded, wiping her forehead. "The soul… comes in the performance. On stage."
And for the first time, she could truly imagine it—standing tall at the convention, not as Mei the office worker, but as Glamrock Roxanne, fierce and unstoppable.