VII. Tanked

She'd gone from a dark, isolated tank to another crate, and then from that crate into a cylindrical holding tube. From that tube, they buckled her into a chair and performed abhorrent and perverted trials on her—beauty trials.

Her hair was shampooed, conditioned, trimmed, fussed with, dyed, redyed, and the natural waves were locked in with a thick, sticky substance that was supposed to maintain her new style, even underwater.

She was scrubbed from head to tail in soaps, lotions, and oils that didn't smell great, but made her skin and scales shimmer. Her hands were manicured and painted—not just painted, but designed with shells and flowers and whatever other stupid artsy things they could think to humiliate her with. They even gave her new eyelashes.

She hated it. She hated it almost more than the solitary tank.

All of her protests were useless. Her insults fell on deaf ears. The stylists seemed like robots, doing exactly what they were told and nothing more. They didn't even speak to each other, except for a stray, "Yes," "No," or, "More red." Whether they were part of Denman's team of evil scientists, or a crew of beauty experts hired by Mr. Bennet, Rikki couldn't tell. All she knew was that pleading for help was useless—and made her look crazy.

She felt crazy. Especially after catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror before they hauled her away to the next prison. She had to admit, the affect was pretty. Whatever they'd done to her enhanced every good thing about her features and skin, without any obvious, costume-like makeup. But she didn't look like Rikki anymore. She looked too perfect to be real.

For the first time since her captivity, Rikki cried.

Her next placement came as a total surprise. Rikki expected to be put in isolation again. In a warehouse, maybe, sharing a cell with various reptiles and endangered birds. Or at the very least, in a custom made tank in some exotic beach house where only the Bennetts and their rich associates could afford to go and gawk. When they lugged her up—heavily dosed with muscle relaxers and magic suppressants—into a cramped space and tossed her into a narrow channel that locked overhead she was shocked to see that they'd put her in a restaurant.

She was looking down at a posh setup. The tables were set with white, satiny tablecloths, and glassware that looked too delicate to survive a single toast. The napkins were as pretentious as the hanging chandeliers, the cushioned chairs, and the brilliant silver spoons. Everything had a bluish tinge to it, all from Rikki's new tank, which was connected to the entire restaurant through a series of water ways that lead to overdone sets of sunken ships and coral reefs.

This was no JuiceNet. And by the looks of things, she was there to be more than a 'pet' for Zane. She was the main attraction to a new restaurant. A real mermaid; trapped in a pretend paradise for everyone to see, presuming she would ever regain the use of her tailfin. It was still feeling odd from the drugs. Things couldn't have been worse unless Zane himself was there to make fun of her.

She regretted the thought immediately.

Mr. Bennett, another man in a suit, and Zane Bennett came around from the bar, which Rikki couldn't see but a portion of at the angle she was stuck in. Zane was taking everything in with a huge grin. Now he was shaking hands with the suited stranger. They weren't talking overloud, and Rikki couldn't make out what they said, but it was evident what was going on when Mr. Bennett put a hand on Zane's shoulder and pointed up to her.

"Happy Birthday," she could see him mouth, as Zane's jaw fell open.

"What is that?" Zane asked clearly.

"That's the main attraction!"

"Why'd you bring her here already? We're not open yet."

"That's a long story, son. Come with me, and I'll tell you."

"Wait..." Zane narrowed his eyes and came closer. "Is that...? No way."

She smacked her palms against the side of her prison, and tried to shout for help; but it was clear she couldn't be heard. She had to look ridiculous, flailing overhead in mermaid form. But Zane wasn't laughing. He peered even harder, disbelief in his features. "Rikki?" he said.

And then he was laughing.

"How did you get her to do this? We're nowhere near... did you fly her out here? This is amazing!" He shouted up to Rikki, "What kind of dirt does Dad have on you that you'd be willing to do this?"

If she could scream at him any louder, she would.

Mr. Bennett pulled Zane away. "Like I said, it's a long story. Let's go and have a talk, Zane."

Author's Warning:

Alright, readers! This is your last warning! Abandon ship if you like stories only full of fluff and cheese! The next one promises to be quite horrid.