Chromium

13.6

First draft

Omen wasn't joking. She'd screamed, raged and above all, cursed him. Still, nobody could really fault her for that. After all, Omen's idea of training wasn't exactly orthodox.

"Damn it, Omen!" Dia yelled, trashing against the restraints - some kind of handcuffs specifically designed to withstand the strength of a cyborg - when he poked her arm with a cattle prod.

Omen frowned, watching her from within his sealed and lock-on gas mask. "You have to calm down."

"Calm down?" She quivered with indignation. "You're poking me with a cattle prod!"

"Exactly." He said, completely deadpan. "Are you angry?"

"No, Omen, I'm overjoyed!" She lashed. "What the hell do you..." Omen took advantage of her distraction and poked her. Again.

"Shit!" She shouted.

Omen lowered the prod and stared at her attentively.

"Your hands are transforming, Dia." He pointed out.

"Yeah? Maybe because I really want to gut you!" She snarled at him. "And turn off the freaking music! It's driving me crazy!"

The Tibetan music in the background and the weird smoke lingering in the room were supposed to be relaxing, but they'd had the opposite effect. The smoke - in particular - was clouding her mind.

"That's what this is all about, Dia." Omen said, poking her again. "You need to stay calm."

However, he did it once too often. Her self control was already wearing thin, and this time she couldn't restrain herself anymore. Her annoyance quickly turned into anger, and when that fury poured through her like a river in flood, her screams became growls. They reverberated throughout the room, deep and wild like those of a big crocodile or maybe the roars of some prehistoric animal.

That's when Omen said, "Control your anger, corporal. Breathe." His calm voice seemed to be her last lifeline.

She tried to cling to it, follow his advice, but she was wrestling with her own mind. Her instinct was telling her to free herself and tear Omen apart. She ignored it, ignored that primal part of her brain, and took a deep breath.

"That's it, Dia, in and out." Omen encouraged her.

Gradually, her anger dissipated and when she opened her eyes again, her hands were back to normal.

Dia blinked, disconcerted. "It...worked?"

Omen furrowed his brow, "You sound surprised."

"Sorry, I was a bit skeptical. Your method consists in breathing some weird shit, listen to a bunch of monks playing odd instruments and try to meditate while a guy pokes you with a cattle prod." She said, her remark full of cutting sarcasm.

Omen narrowed his eyes. "But it worked."

"Yeah, but...Fine. I was wrong, alright?" Dia huffed, "You know, you are so petty sometimes."

"Petty?" He tilted his head, the cattle prod oscillating up and down. "Really?"

Dia swallowed her saliva. "Nevermind. I'm...I'm just happy it's over."

"Over?" His eyes flickered with dark amusement. "We are just getting started, Dia. This is just a trick to keep your anger at bay. We need to dig deeper and uncover the source of your anger. Only then you will be able to control yourself."

"Uncover the source of your anger?" She parroted in his voice. "What are you, a shrink?"

Omen sighed, "Listen, Dia. This only worked because you were still under the influence of Spice, but what will happen when you stop taking it?"