First part of the chapter. I'll post the rest on Sunday.
Unedited/first draft
This must be Reyes' revenge. There is no other explanation. Otherwise, why would he subject me to this kind of torture?
The "torture" in reality was nothing but a simple "beauty session" to take care of her skin, hair, clothes and made her look as close as possible to Karniek's woman, Katrina.
Well, maybe "simple" was a bit of an understatement considering there were two make up artists, a hairstylist, three professional shoppers, and including Selene, six maids.
Theoretically, they were taking care of her, but really it seemed they took great pleasure in making her suffer. The makeup artists were using her so-called dead skin as an excuse to rub some cream on her body and the professional shoppers manhandling her as they took her measures with such concentration Dia almost felt like they were preparing her wedding dress.
Dia wasn't exactly the marriage type, not after the few and very bad experiences she had with men. But when she saw what kind of dresses the personal shoppers prepared for her, she understood she was wrong.
Maybe a wedding dress wasn't so bad after all.
The attires they showed her consisted in a variety of leather and latex costumes, or worse, see-through fishnet dresses so revealing that maybe even a pornstar or a hooker would have refused to wear them. In the end, she began to wonder what kind of woman this Katrina was, or if Karniek had some kind of weird fetish and forced his lover to wear these things.
After more than an hour of complete agony, Dia couldn't take it anymore. She started shouting at the personal shoppers, demanding for something that actually covered her "assets". In the end, she settled for a black leather mini dress. It was still too low cut, way too tight---at least a size smaller than necessary---and she really didn't like the zipper running through the middle of it. If someone pulled it, she would be completely naked.
And probably that's the point.
But since the sexy horrors the wardrobe was filled with were more suited to a pornstar on crack, or worse, a nutjob with a fetish for cosplay, Dia took it as the lesser evil. Besides, she felt pity for the poor maids who were panting and sweating as they ran around like headless chickens.
Speaking of maids, Suzanne was waiting near the entrance for her turn. She looked even less happy than her, her arms crossed and her lips pursed as she glared at Dia like the entire situation was her fault.
She was tall, just an inch or two taller than Dia, and very pretty though she looked a bit stern, or as Jenkins would have called her self-important attitude, "bitchy". In other times, before one of past emperors decided that fashion was a social scourge, and a woman showing her legs on TV a whore, Suzanne might have been a model, though looking at her generous bosom and her full and sensual lips, Dia believed another profession was more suited to her peculiar talents. Well, probably she was just jealous.
Suzanne and Dia weren't the only two people who looked unhappy about being here. As the only male in the room, Omen was showing what it really meant to be stoic, staring into the void with such concentration that Dia began to wonder if he was a new kind of cyborg and could melt the walls with his laser eyes.
But among a good line-up of unhappy people, it was the hairstylist who drew the short straw. She was at her wit's end, as she tried to coax, or beg, Dia to let her do her job.
"Please, ma'am. It will just last a moment..." She pleaded as she tried to get close.
But Dia stared at her and the spray can in her hands like she was the devil incarnate.
"You're crazy If you think I'll let you dye my hair with that thing."
"That's the commander's order, ma'am. I'm just trying to do my job."
Damn you, Reyes!
"It's just peroxide. Don't tell me you are afraid?" Suzanne mocked.
She didn't miss the chance to taunt me, of course.
"I like my hair as it is, thank you."
"Black and dull you mean."
"M'am I really have to..." The hairstylist said, and Dia was so fed up with the entire situation that she started growling.
"Get any closer, and I'll smash your skull open."
The poor woman, a pretty lady in her forties, flinched like she had stuck her. Normally Dia would have felt guilty. The woman was just doing her job after all. But not this time.
She deserved it. Who does she think she is?
"Dia, Katrina is a platinum blonde." Omen said, acting as the voice of reason. "Let her do her job and I am sure you'll like..."
"No way in hell. Only cheap bionic hookers have the hair of that color." She said, and for some reason, Suzanne started laughing like Dia'd said the funniest thing in the world.
Omen scowled at her, but Suzanne continued, completely undaunted.
"It's different in this system." Omen reasoned. "This isn't the empire. It's not a stigma here."
Dia bit her lips.
"But..."
"You really need to dye your hair...corporal." He said, his voice growing sterner, using that tone of command she'd learned to know so well in the navy.
"...fine." She surrendered. "She can dye them, but she can't cut it."
"Don't worry, she just got permission to dye."
Dia raised her eyebrows.
"Permission?"
Omen scratched his head.
"It's Reyes order."
Of course, it is. Control freak.
"He agreed with the Umbra about the color, but put the veto on the length."
What the hell? Did they make a contract? For my freaking hair?
"Dia? Can we proceed?" Omen asked after a while.
Dia nodded automatically, still a bit dumbfounded.
"I just hope there won't be any more surprises." She warned.
I don't think that I could take it.
But when she said those words something flickered in Omen's eyes. At the same time, Suzanne coughed, but her face was flushed like she was trying hard not to laugh.
"This is the last one, right?" She asked Omen, hopeful he would deny, but he didn't.
In the end, it wasn't him to answer, and when she heard that shrilly, annoying and smug voice, she knew something wasn't right.
"No, dear Dia." She said and Dia wanted to puke. "this isn't the last surprise."
"Suzanne, don't..."Omen tried to stop her but he was too late.
"It seems nobody told you about the tattoos. Or the piercings." Suzanne said, looking at her like she was a poor fool.
Piercings? Tattoos?
"Omen, what's going on?"
Omen glowered at Suzanne before looking at Dia. He didn't seem happier than her about the situation. He stared at her for some seconds, his brows furrowed like he was trying to find a way to tell her.
"Just tell me already." She said, and he sighed.
"Katrina is a N.E.G, Dia."
"N.E.G?"
"It stands for New Ero Gotique. It's the new trend for the young and rich in the system. They dress in a lot of leather and metal and mar their skin with piercings and tattoos." He said with a sneer of disgust. "They are epicureans."
The way he talked about it...the sheer revulsion on his face was something raw and real. It was like he took his mask off for a moment and gave her a glimpse of the man underneath.
"Epicureans?" Dia repeated.
Sometimes Omen really talks like an old book. A bit like... And it came into her mind the horrible spider mask the Umbra liked to wear. She strongly shook her head. No way. What am I thinking? Omen wants to know who the Umbra is as much as I do. Maybe more. He can't be him.
"Corporal" Omen said, and despite everything she thought so far, she jolted as someone had zapped her.
"Yes?"
Omen shook his head, a bit annoyed.
"Like I was saying, most of those Negs." He said the name with contempt. "like to drink, do drugs and have multiple sexual partners. They can be quite...violent in their passions."
Dia's eyes became two slits.
"Violent? How violent? How violent?" She asked and she had the dubious pleasure to make him uncomfortable. Dubious because it didn't bode well for her if even a hardened man like Omen felt so uneasy and didn't want to talk about it.
"It's...I suppose you could call it...a lifestyle. It's loosely inspired on...BDSM, an old practice..."
"Please stop." She said, putting him out of his misery. "I know what that is." Dia said, rubbing her forehead. Her head was starting to hurt.
What the hell I have gotten myself into?
Omen, on the other hand, looked relieved.
"Katrina was born very poor, an orphan who had no one but herself." He continued. "That's why she had to find...alternative methods to survive."
"That's a way to put it, Omen." Suzanne interjected. "But I think is better if you are a bit more direct."
Why do I have a feeling I won't like this?
"Suzanne, stop..." Omen warned, but Suzanne smiled.
"Oh, but I just think she needs to know. After all, how can she acts as Katrina if she doesn't know her past? But maybe you're right, and I should keep this for myself. Probably she will be fine. She is a natural anyway."
"Suzanne. Shut up." He hissed.
"A natural? A natural at what?" Dia inquired.
"It seems she really wants to know." She said to Omen. "What should I do? Should I tell her what Katrina did for a living before Kaniek found her?"
"Suzanne. God is my witness if you say another word..." Omen made a step forward, and even Dia felt threatened, but apparently, Suzanne didn't.
"She was a hooker."
Dia opened her eyes wide and looked at Omen, begging him to say she was wrong.
"She wasn't a hooker."
Dia sighed with relief until she heard his next words.
"More like a high-class escort." He admitted, and Suzanne sniggered.
"Oh my God..." She whispered. "she is a prostitute that gets off on pain?"
"I wouldn't put that way...but yes, though not only she likes to receive pain but also to inflict it."
"Basically, she an illiterate pain slut who likes to smash skull in her spare time." Suzanne supplied. "That's why I said you'd be fine."
Bitch.
"Suzanne. Get the hell out." Omen barked.
Suzanne winced, but she still had the gall to retort.
"But I..."
"Out." He repeated. "You too. Get the fuck out."
He didn't have to say it twice. All the people ran outside until the only people left were the two of them. Omen and a very angry Dia.