//------------------------------// // From Canterlot, Equestria // Story: Hard As Diamond: The First Round // by jmj //------------------------------// Diamond had wanted to run when Fleberwitz, her father’s personal butler, waited for her as she  descended the large, curling staircase of the Rich family mansion. He was a pompous man, his nose pointed perpetually towards the ceiling and he was forced to look down the thin, blade-like bridge to address someone standing before him. He waited at the bottom where his gray, cold eyes could rest in a more natural angle following her with his hands behind him, his narrow chest sticking out of the pressed, black suit he wore.  “Miss Diamond, your father has expressed his desire for me to accompany you to La Gaala. It is urgent that you select a dress for your 18th birthday event.” He was matter-of-fact, straight-laced, and very direct. There wasn’t a fun bone in his body. Diamond thought Fleberwitz’s idea of a good time was ironing perfect creases in his socks. “I’m busy today, Fleberwitz,” Diamond attempted to pass the tall, older gentleman but his speed was uncanny and he blocked her path in a motion so quick and fluid that Diamond could barely register it. “It was your father’s request that I, personally, attend to the matter.” A small, pencil-thin mustache twitched beneath the hummingbird nose. Diamond paused. She really didn’t feel like dealing with this today. She wanted to jog, to clear her head of the disappointment she felt from the day before. What she wanted the least was to try on dresses that cost nearly as much as tuition at the prestigious Canterlot University. She didn’t want a ball of unknown people showing off their cash for her 18th birthday; she wanted a fight. But, she never got what she really wanted. Only what was expected of her. Diamond attempted to sidestep the old codger but the man was unbelievably spry for his age. She knew that it would be better to just get it over with. “Okay, okay, you old weasel. Let me go for my morning jog and we’ll  spend the rest of the day doing whatever Daddy wants.” Compromise. Surely the arrow-like butler could understand that. Diamond slumped when Fleberwitz’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m sorry, Miss Diamond. Your father was very strict in his wishes.” His beady eyes looked in disdain at the tight exercise wear that Diamond sported. There were tiny holes here and there, giving them a well used, punkish look. She also wore a loose cut off top with ‘street princess’, the name of a local band, printed across it. “Would you like to change into something befitting a member of the Rich family or would visiting an establishment as elegant as La Gaala in the attire of a common fille de joie better suit you?” Diamond grunted at the insult. It was an awfully tasteful way to say she was dressed as a whore. Her lip pouted forward and she glared at the skinny man hard enough to wither most servants. None would dare speak to her in such a manner. None but him, and, worst of all, he knew he could. His word was that of her father’s and even she couldn’t contest it.  “It will take a while to get ready, Fleberwitz. Bring the car around like a good servant.” She wanted to put him in his place, to make him feel small for doing so to her. It was a cheap, unlikeable tactic but she had very few options. “I will inform the chauffeur, Miss Diamond.” Fleberwitz had been in this position for a long, long time and had served in other households before his tenure with the Rich family. Snarky slips of the tongue were less than nothing to him. Diamond turned, blood rushing to her face, and began the ascent up the stairs. “Oh, and spare us both the drama of having me wait below your window for your inevitable escape attempt. It will serve only to make the day longer and more tedious for the both of us.” Diamond snarled, stomping back to her room. That old weasel was far too sharp for his own good. She couldn’t even have her own thoughts in this blasted place! Diamond found something in her walk-in closet that was just presentable enough. She imagined Fleberwitz before her and fell into her stance, snapping a lead jab, right straight, commonly referred to as a one-two, directly into his needle nose. She followed it with a left shovel hook, right straight that would have sent the man falling into the void of unconsciousness. She’d never actually hit him, but she would shadow box his imaginary nose crooked. Throwing the lilac dress out of the room, she followed angrily.  Petulant. She was being petulant. Just like a spoiled child. That wasn’t her. That...wasn’t who she wanted to be. Diamond closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Rhythmic, controlled.  Her stance came naturally, hands up to guard her head from incoming blows, body turned to the side, feet facing the direction of her chest. In. Out. This was how they got to her. They could control her anytime they wanted and there was nothing she could do about it. How she had kept her secret lessons a mystery for so long was uncanny. It was all she had, her one piece of individuality and rebellion. Her feet moved, guiding her hands.  “Work the jab. All things come from the jab,” Diamond said under her breath, tossing a single, quick strike and then a double pumping lead. She imagined fighting a taller opponent, lifting her punches upward, aiming for the chin. A cross followed, meeting the high mark. She followed it with a liver collapsing body shot and another right, low this time, working the ribs. Her feet moved with her, bringing her forward and to the side at angles to slip the counterpunch and set up a retaliatory blow. She could see the strikes coming back at her in her mind’s eye, missing their mark by the barest of margins, the wind from the glove slashing at her cheeks as she rolled and moved with the punches. “Roll with them, Diamond. Roll with the punches. They can’t touch you. They. Can’t. Touch. You.” Diamond spoke to herself, calming her furious mind. In. Out. She couldn’t let them get to her or she had already lost. She wasn’t the bratty rich kid anymore. She was a woman with her own thoughts, her own wants, and her own personality. She had to defend who she was even if it meant letting them pressure her. Letting them control the fight. The illusion of control brought with it many openings if one knew where to look. Diamond once more descended the stairs, the lilac dress accented with shining pearls around her neck and wrist. A small, black purse hung from her shoulder around her waist. She stepped with honor and pride. Fleberwitz nodded his approval and presented the door to the young lady, issuing a short bow. “This way, Miss Diamond. And what a radiant young lady you are when you embrace your heritage.” “Thank you, Fleberwitz. I apologize for my appearance earlier. I do forget myself at times.” Diamond tasted bile in the back of her throat but dismissed it, controlling it, as she stepped to the long black automobile. The chauffeur had waxed it that morning just for her and it shined in the morning light. There would be no mistake that the lady inside was a Rich. She thanked the servant for holding the door for her and slid into the burgundy leather of the limousine’s rear interior. Fleberwitz took the front seat beside the driver, leaving Diamond alone in the back. The privacy window that separated the driver from the back was up and Diamond sighed as she slumped into the seat. Diamond bit the inside of her lip so hard that she tasted blood as the car pulled away, following the ornately decorated path around the fountain and out of the main gate. Staring out the window, she watched the world pass her by. Soon she would legally be an adult. Soon she would be the master of her own destiny.  Or, at least, have a say in it. La Gaala was highly recommended by the upper class and the Madame who owned the establishment was the wife of …. someone her father knew. Of course, she was. Some rich old hen peddling fabulous dresses at incredibly high prices to the daughters of her husband’s friends. It was a racket, just like everything else her father and his cronies did. Old money kept new money from becoming anything more than lucky. No other dress business in Canterlot could compete with La Gaala and those that tried failed miserably. The clientele for such a  business were all family of the boys club her father was a member of and they washed each other's hands in cold, hard cash. Diamond had always hated places like La Gaala. Where rich people did favors for one another under the guise of enterprise. It took monumental effort not to sneer as she stepped from the limousine, the eyes of the public watching in envy as she did, towards the shop. They thought she thought she was better than them. She had to play the part but felt embarrassed as Fleberwitz warded her, keeping the passing people a few feet away as they looked the fancy girl or the limousine over.  La Gaala wasn’t open to the public, to the poor, or even the middle class. One made reservations to visit such a high class establishment and even that cost a great deal of money. Fleberwitz rang the buzzer to signal they had arrived. The door buzzed and a strong lock clacked inside the frame. Fleberwitz pulled the antique bronze handle for Diamond. Closing the door behind her, he returned to the limousine. Servants, even those as respected and powerful as he, were not allowed in La Gaala. It was a personal experience for each young lady and the matron of the shop tenaciously protected the sanctity of a visit. The windows were tinted so dark that passersby on the street could not see inside despite how they might try.  Diamond, in her long, tight dress stepped through rows of fabrics and exquisitely dressed mannequins. Each one wore clothing that would be right at home in the bougiest of mansions and cost in the tens of thousands of bits. There was nothing as tacky as racks in La Gaala. Each garment had its own mannequin or its own spot on the ivory-colored walls. Diamond couldn’t help but feel appalled at the extravagance people like her sought. The material, as fine and wonderful as it was, couldn’t have cost more than one hundred bits and yet they would spend ridiculous amounts of money on them for one event. “Diamond Tiara, how nice to see you again, my dear,” the matron of la Gaala welcomed her from betwixt rows of colored fabrics. She was tall and thin, older than Diamond’s mother but twice as preserved. That was the word. Preserved. Face lifts, tummy tucks, and injections of line reducing chemicals preserved one’s appearance more than enhanced it. Her lavenderish skin showed no signs of surgery, meaning she only saw the most qualified, recommended cosmetic surgeons. Her skin tone was similar to Diamond’s and she saw what she may look like in 40 years if she embraced the life her father planned for her. “It is a pleasure, as always, Lady…” Diamond had forgotten her name! What a horrible faux pas. Word would get back to Daddy and he would send Flerberwitz to correct her or, for such an embarrassment, even take time from his precious business to do so himself.  “Vicuna. Vicuna Lux, my dear,” she corrected. If she had taken offense, Diamond couldn’t tell but that was the act, wasn’t it? “My apologies, Lady Vicuna. It has been too long since my last foray into your establishment.” Diamond curtsied, a sign of deferment and respect. Hopefully that would make up for her forgetfulness. Vicuna’s smile was as fake as her forehead. “Yes, indeed it has. Shall we dispense with the pleasantries and cut, as they say, to the chase? Someone is having their 18th birthday and such a once-in-a-lifetime event demands a once-in-a-lifetime ensemble.” Vicuna was already selling Diamond on something insanely expensive.  “I suppose so, Lady Vicuna. Do you have any suggestions?” Diamond didn’t care. If she had her drothers, she would wear an oversized t-shirt, panties with green stripes, and eat ice cream in bed rather than an overpriced dress consorting with all the other rich, entitled brats that would attend her party. Her tone must have slipped because Vicuna’s head tilted, twitched momentarily as if Diamond had said a curse word. “I see. Well, given your skin tone, I think a silvery teal would look absolutely breathtaking on you. I would know, I see much of myself in you, Diamond,” the owner said, turning to a wall of fabrics and selecting three bolts that, as far as Diamond could tell, were the same color. She approached Diamond, asking her to have a seat on a posh, luxurious bench, and stretched each bolt before her, laying them on a rolling table so as not to touch the thick, fancy carpet. Diamond feigned interest as the dress designer explained differences between the colors and materials. Diamond couldn't help but think of how funny a boxing glove made of this material would be. A small smirk appeared on her face. “Oh, Diamond. You like the lotus flower silk? That’s my personal favorite.” Vicuna admired the fabric and smiled.  “Yes. It is… vivacious and beautiful. What a wonderful texture it has as well.” Diamond’s answer was as forced as Vicuna’s smile. Again, the shop owner twitched and Diamond began to wonder if it was a side effect of the chemicals injected into her face. She had heard from some other snobby girl that Botox was known to trigger strange spasms in some people. Taking the fabric, Vicuna Lux walked behind the counter, writing a small tag and placing it with the fabric. She returned, beckoning Diamond. “Now, let’s find a design that suits you. We have many on display and, if you don’t like those, a book of my own designs. For your birthday, you should feel like a princess. Here we have…”  Vicuna led Diamond down a gallery of dresses. Each one was beautiful, one of a kind, and exquisitely made. Diamond paused at one, looking up and wondering how many families it would feed. Vicuna almost purred, “This is one of my favorites, Diamond. Of course, ladies your age typically want to show a little more skin than this. It is dated but it’s hard to forget the classics. That being said, I don’t think it would suit you. Let me show you this design that another young lady fell absolutely in love…” Diamond felt like crying. She didn’t want a dress. She wanted to be allowed to do what she wanted. And that was fight. Her expression drooped unknowingly and Vicuna turned back, seeing the young girl. “Of course, if you really like this one, I’m sure we can modify it to … to…” the designer stopped speaking and Diamond looked at her, lips turning up in a gentle, lying grin. Vicuna sighed and stopped her pitch, staring into Diamond’s soul. “You don’t want to be here, do you, Diamond Tiara?” Diamond froze, she began to say something and stuttered. It wasn’t polite to pay so little attention and Filthy would surely find out if Vicuna took offense. People paid just to be here and Diamond was not only squandering her time but doing so with disregard to the owner. There was an act she had to follow out of respect. It was never allowed to appear disinterested or aloof in such company as Vicuna Lux. She would earn a bad reputation and that meant embarrassing her father. Something he would not tolerate. “What do you want, Diamond?” Vicuna’s voice was soothing, understanding. It was not what Diamond had expected. It broke her façade and she shook her head gently.  “I just want to be an adult and make my own decisions. Not what my father wants of me. Not balls, not fancy dresses, not playing a princess in front of his friends.” Diamond was candid, it was unheard of to be so openly disobedient and dismissive of the lifestyle she had been born into. Vicuna surely would be furious with her. Diamond’s blue eyes found the gold of the shop owner’s and saw a soft, real smile on her lips. “Can we be open, Diamond? Would you like that?” Vicuna asked. “Very much,” Diamond answered, confused by the demeanor Vicuna exhibited. “I hate working with snotty girls looking to spend as much money as possible out of their father’s wallets. It’s always the most expensive, least comfortable garment I can make. And the colors, my word, the hideous colors they choose: pink and red, gold and blue, orange! Oh my goodness, orange has never been acceptable except in flannel and, of course, I don’t have any of that here. Much too comfortable and cheap for these spoiled kids.” Vicuna plopped down in a seat before Diamond. It was an unladylike move and Diamond turned her head to the side a little, a small grin appearing on her lips. “But, do you want to know a secret? I wear flannel pajamas to bed. Every. Single. Night.” “Really?” Diamond asked. It was so strange to see someone as respected as Vicuna Lux so openly discuss such topics. “Every night, dear. You have to be who you are sometimes. My husband hates it, but who cares what he thinks? It’s my body and my comfort,” Vicuna stated, defying the unsaid laws of their class. She motioned for Diamond to sit. “It’s… hard to be yourself with my father. I’d rather not go to the ball. There’s other things I think would be a lot more fun and it’s my special day, not his.” Diamond watched the older lady, searching her features and seeing her as who she really was. Not what she had to be. “Tell me about it, dear. I didn’t want to go to my ball either but my father, rest his soul, saw it as a time honored tradition. So, who am I to trample upon such a thing? I went. I hated it. And the following day I ate so much mint ice cream that I made myself sick. It used to be my favorite but I can’t stomach a bite since that day.” Vicuna said. “Was there anything good about your birthday ball or is it as awful as I think it’s going to be?” Diamond asked. “Well, I met my husband there. I don’t know if that is good or not. He, after many arguments, allowed me to open this store. I’ve always loved designing clothing. Not stuff like this, just normal things. I wanted to see my designs walking down any city street in Equestria. But, compromises must be met, I guess.” Vicuna popped a cigarette from seemingly nowhere and lit it. She took a deep drawl and shook her head as the smoke rolled from her nose. “Did you make your own dress?” Diamond asked, listening intently. “Heavens no. Though, I did want to. It would have been something spectacular. Something so unique,” the designer grinned, lost in her own thoughts. ”It was basically a tube top with frills and lace and a mini skirt. My father would have hanged me.” She chuckled gently. “But, I did make a hairbow for myself. It was cheap and shiny. It looked like a rose made from aluminum foil. Reflective surfaces were all the rage those days and I wanted to be different from all the other girls. After all, as you said, it was my special day. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house for a week because of that hairbow. But, it was worth it.” “I think your dress would have been nice, Vicuna. You should be yourself,” Diamond said, watching the older woman smoke. “Tradition is tradition, Diamond. My generation embraced it. Yours, I think, is more open to change. Individuality is tolerated a little more. And, I’m a woman owning a business. I work. My husband and I are very wealthy and yet I stitch every dress by hand against my husband’s wishes. It may be minor, but I get to design and create works of art here. Even if they aren’t what I thought I would make in my youth, it lets me be free in my own little way.” Vicuna crushed the cigarette and smiled sweetly. “Now, let’s talk about your dress. Lotus flower silk sounds wonderful but it chafes something awful. And silvery green? Please, that’s so what my husband would pick and he doesn’t know teal from chartreuse.” Diamond chuckled to herself. “What would you really suggest, Vicuna?” “Flannels. Top to bottom. Purple and black to match your wonderful complexion. But good luck getting that by your father,” Vicuna smirked. “I do like the purple and black. What fabric since the flannel is out?” Diamond asked. She had no idea someone like Vicuna could be so down to earth. She felt a sadness for her. Times were different. Other women had made changes little by little for Diamond Tiara. People like Vicuna had been trapped. Their dreams stolen or imprisoned behind a wall of expectations.  “Oh, honey. Let me tell you about this linen over here. I can make the most comfortable dress you have ever had in your life and it’s virtually indistinguishable from cashmere. Nobody will know the difference but you and I.” Diamond was led by Vicuna, whole secrets of the trade were revealed to her and Diamond felt closer to the woman than she thought she ever would. She looked at designs from Vicuna’s book. There were many wild, interesting ones that Diamond had never seen before. Each more unique than the next. They chatted, Vicuna explaining which ones would look good on Diamond and which ones wouldn’t. Time flew and soon Vicuna began checking her watch. “I have another appointment soon, dear. How about you take this book and find something you like. You’ve got plenty of time to make a decision but I will need a week to put the dress together. Call me when you have made a decision.” Vicuna sighed, she looked as if she didn’t want to meet whoever was coming in next. Diamond nodded and took the book. “Thanks, Vicuna. I think this will be a lot better because of you,” Diamond admitted. “I just want you to cherish the dress and not throw it away because your father made you wear it. It’s important that your transition into adulthood be a fond memory.” Vicuna crushed another cigarette and began waving away the smoke, fetching a can of spray to cover the stench. Diamond headed towards the exit, touching the knob. Vicuna was close behind, seeing her out. Diamond paused, looking back to the shop owner. “What if I ask for something special? My own personal version of your hairbow?”  “Well, every lady must have something special, Diamond. I’d be happy to include something to help you stand out,” Vicuna smirked. “Thanks. I’ll figure something out,” Diamond pulled the door open, exiting to the street where Fleberwitz stood waiting and the chauffeur held the car door. Once more Diamond stepped with pride, holding her head high in the play she never wanted to be a part of. From nowhere a man appeared, pushing a paper into Diamond’s hand. He held a stack of them and was chattering quickly, “Come see the big event, miss! Tell your friends! A mixed martial arts event like you’ve never witnessed on the local scene! Just two months away! Keep the flyer and get ten percent off the ticket price” Fleberwitz was quick to push the man away, citing a call to local police for blatant harassment and assault. The man argued with him, pulling a knit cap from his head and waving it in Fleberwitz's face. Still, the butler had his way and the man bounded away, still barking about the big event and handing out flyers to people, interested or not. Diamond stuffed the flyer into a tiny purse accessory she wore before Fleberwitz could detach himself from the man. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Miss Diamond. Trash like that litters the streets these days. Even those of your stature must endure their low class idiocy,” the butler declared and stood guard as Diamond slipped into the back seat of the limousine. She watched the butler and chauffeur get into the front but the privacy window was still up and she pulled the handout from her purse. It was crumpled but still legible. “Cantercrase MMA presents Cantercrase 115. Fury Vs. ‘Rampaging’ Rex Tarnish. Five unbelievable bouts of high level mixed martial arts. Main card begins at noon. Prelims to be announced.” Diamond gasped. The event was taking place on her birthday. Prelims to be announced, that meant the fight card hadn’t been finalized. Diamond didn’t feel the rumble of the car. She didn’t think about the designs in Vicuna’s book. Nothing mattered to her but that date. If she acted fast…  Even if it wasn’t boxing, maybe there was still a way she could fight on her birthday.