Genetic Perfection ( Repo! the Genetic Opera Fanfiction)

Dead Girl Walking

Chapter 7: Dead Girl Walking

Throughout my entire life, I was indoctrinated with the belief that beauty was the ultimate goal. I watched as the adults around me, with their surgically enhanced faces, attended lavish parties and lived seemingly perfect lives. As a child, I was fascinated by the world of cosmetic surgery, viewing it as a glamorous and magical lifestyle reserved only for princesses. But now, as I gaze upon my own reflection, all I feel is disgust. How many more times can I subject myself to the knife before my face completely falls apart? My life is far from the fairytale existence of a princess; the only semblance of perfection I possess is the result of surgical manipulation.

I release my hair from its tightly bound buns and let it cascade freely down my back. Surveying the dresses in the room, I select a purple silk gown. If I am no longer an employee in this place, what is stopping me from indulging in a drink? Despite Pink's warnings to stay put, the pain I feel is too overwhelming.

Examining my reflection in the mirror, I realize that I have never looked more beautiful. And yet, this beauty brings me immense pain. I feel like nothing more than a doll, devoid of true humanity. But tonight, I will taste a sip of freedom. I no longer have to please anyone here; I can finally be myself.

Navigating through the hallways, I make my way to the bar. On the stage, the girls perform their routines, their movements flawless. They are masters of entertainment, captivating the men in the room. These men, with their smirks, cigars, and whisky, all appear the same to me – bald gangsters and the occasional soldier looking for a good time.

"Malta?" the bartender, Harry, calls out as I take a seat at the bar. He leans in, looking me directly in the eyes.

"How did you know?" I respond, a smile forming on my lips. Harry's observation surprises me.

"You still have the same walk and talk," he says, smiling back at me. "But they really did a number on you, didn't they? You look good."

"Um... thanks," I reply, glancing back at the stage where the girls are performing my old routine.

"They've been trying all day to perfect it, but they just don't have it," Harry remarks, his gaze fixed on the stage. I look at him, realizing that he is genuinely kind. Perhaps I should have engaged in conversation with him more often; he could have been a friend. But in this place, forming attachments is dangerous, even with the bar staff.

"So, what will it be? Anything you want! You're our guest now, and it's on the house," Harry exclaims, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm.

"Surprise me," I respond, trying to match his cheerful tone. It feels refreshing to have a normal conversation with another human being, a rarity in this environment.

I watch as Harry skillfully mixes and blends various liquids together. His confidence intrigues me. How did he end up working in a place like this? Surely, he must have aspirations beyond this seedy joint.

"I NEED A DRINK!" a forceful voice interrupts, and Luigi Largo appears from around the corner. Harry's expression turns to shock, and he nods in response. He abandons his current task and begins making Luigi's drink.

"Hurry up! I need some action," Luigi demands, taking a seat at the nearest table. Harry's eyes betray his fear as he quickly finishes Luigi's drink.

"Get back to your room before he sees you!" Harry whispers as he passes by me. "They wanted you as a surprise."

Great! I can't go back to my room without passing Luigi. I'll have to exit through the front door and take a detour through the alleyway. I rise from my stool, trying to make as little noise as possible, and start walking swiftly towards the entrance.