The dressing room was suffocating with a mixture of cloying incense and cheap perfume, the smell of which seemed to be the epitome of lust and decay, causing nausea. The semi-darkness pressed down on his shoulders, and the mirror opposite reflected only a pitiful semblance of a warrior. Nevermore's face contorted into a grimace of disgust as he stared at his reflection.
The suit clung like a straitjacket, squeezing his chest and reminding him of his helplessness. The lace, which seemed delicate in appearance, scratched his neck, causing itching and irritation, and these exquisite stockings with a spotted pattern looked very attractive, especially on him, not to mention the same top with large cups, highlighting his chest. And that adorable ponytail on her hips and the funny horns on her head seemed to do nothing but attract attention. Light makeup, which he barely agreed to, looked very presentable for such an image.
After giving enough time to prepare, Senator Ti'grash'iki called the World of Nevermore. The latter, slowly approaching the Senator, with every step he heard the treacherous ringing of the bell on his neck, and cursed himself for really doing it.
Camera flashes burned pride more than plasma. The photographer, trembling with fear of the Senator, shot Mira in poses worthy of a naked advertisement for cheap resorts, and only Ti'grash'iki, comfortably sitting on the couch, commented:
— Chin up! Show at least a spark of playfulness, Moo-Moo!
— Focus on the hips, and lift the tail itself… Yes, it's much more tempting that way.
— Smile, Ladybug. Show your teeth.
— Amazing! Now the Seiza pose… Perfect for humility…
— Nicer! Pretend like you like it.
Every movement of the Commander was accompanied by the gaze of the Senator, who was too close. Especially unpleasant was the moment when the senator allegedly accidentally ran his hand over parts of the World's body, whispering something to himself. Even worse was his touch, straightening the disheveled hair on her head. Each such careless contact left a trail of dirt on the soul.
Nevermore imagined throwing the Senator into the wall, his bones cracking under the blows, the lustful gleam in his eyes fading… But instead, he was smiling like an idiot, holding a toy bucket with the word "Milk" in his hands.
After an hour, having suffered all these humiliations, he received the coveted documents in holographic format certifying the ownership of the RC squad, which was entered in advance into the Security Service database during this shameful time.
thanks… for this reminder of my insignificance," the World said, squeezing the Pocket Personal Computer so hard that it almost cracked.
—Enjoy yourself, Commander Nevermore,— Ti'grash'iki hissed. — And thanks for… performance…
But the gratitude evaporated just three days later, when during the exercises, the truth became clear, which revealed the catch: the clones fell from the very first deafening shot.
— There is no protection… Mir whispered, looking at the defeated clones, and literally at the same second, the Commander of the Security Service roared, throwing his helmet against the wall.
They are not provided for by the contract," the squad leader replied monotonously. Ti'grashiki, of course, "forgot" to mention that the modules are sold separately.
The world swallowed a lump of rage. Ti'grash'iki circled him like a novice. This is the basic configuration.
There was only one choice—to return to Ti'grash'iki. A second visit is inevitable.
Ti'grash'iki, dressed in a silk robe, sprawled on the couch, gesturing with a glass of notorious wine from Naboo.
"Oh, my Moo—Moo is back!" The senator was applauding lazily. — I heard your squad… a little incomplete? Something seems to be missing… Modules? Of course! This is a separate product. But for you… Special price. I want a little more… His smile cracked.
The second photo shoot took place in the senator's chambers. Ti'grash'iki photographed himself, demanding "more emotional" shots. The costume became more revealing, the poses became more obscene. Ti'grash'iki was completely confident of his impunity, "accidentally" touching the World without hesitation, clinging to the fabric of his suit, leaving greasy spots. His gaze was sticky and disgusting.
Nevermore endured, knowing that this was only a step towards achieving his goal. He needed these modules, and nothing, including Ti'grash'iki's weirdness, could stop him. The commander was silent, thinking about how he would crush this man one day.
"You're so beautiful in yours.".. Broken loyalty to the Republic," Ti'grash'iki hissed,
When the senator finally handed over the modules, Nevermore felt rage wash over him, but he forced himself to breathe evenly. He took a step back, ready to explode.
"You could be the star of the holo-nets," Ty'grash'iki purred, running a greasy hand over the plastron of the World as he put on his helmet. When the senator tried to take off his glove, exposing dirty fingers, the World grabbed his wrist, squeezing it until the bones crunched.
"Touch me again, and your torn nails will be the best souvenir for my soldiers," he growled, putting into his voice all the hatred accumulated during these hours of humiliation.
Nevermore turned around and left, trying not to show how his hands were shaking.
"I hope it was worth it," T'grash'iki called after her, enjoying the humiliation of his victim.
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