Author's note:
This peculiar story is a joint effort of B.B. Wolf123 en Dragoneyes-99, using our favorite Street Fighter characters. We have written this story using the round-robin style, mailing the story back and forth until it was finally finished. Enjoy!
The sleek car moved swiftly through the Russian countryside. Outside it was snowing heavily, but inside the luxurious wagon it was comfortably warm. The screen between driver and passenger was darkened to give a modicum of privacy to the latter. In the background, soft, classical music flowed from the speakers, creating a peaceful atmosphere.
Vega was on his way to an exclusive Russian indoors martial arts tournament. A select group of fighters had received a personal invitation to attend and Vega had been one of them. The Shadaloo assassination business was quiet at the moment so he thought it was a nice distraction. But now, realizing that Russia was actually bitter cold this time of year, he wasn't so sure.
Gazing out the window, Vega noticed that the visibility was getting worse and he felt the car slow down to compensate. How he hated this cold, forbidding country. Everywhere he looked he saw white. Presumably he was still in a rural area but he couldn't tell by looking outside. The snow was everywhere.
The classical music was interrupted by a newsflash. Vega had studied a lot of languages, Russian being among them, so he could follow the news perfectly.
"The blizzard is gaining in intensity and we're advising everyone to stay inside. For those already on the road: make sure to seek shelter as soon as you can and continue your travels until the snowstorm…"
Sudden static drowned out the rest of the broadcast and Vega cursed his luck. His already darkening mood did not improve when the chauffeur lowered the screen and asked him if they should find a place for the night. Vega cut him short.
"No, I want to be in my hotel this evening. I'm not spending the night in a second rate motel along the road."
The chauffeur, though he was not happy with it, complied. The screen went back up and the car sped up a little. The radio had stopped altogether and the howling wind filled in the silence.
Suddenly the silhouette of a man, struggling against the elements, appeared before the car. The hapless driver jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes in a panic to avoid a collision.
The car began to buck like a wild animal and swerved left and right in an unstoppable slide. Vega was thrown against the side and then back again as the driver fought to keep the vehicle on the road. Finally the car slammed against an unyielding obstacle with the drivers' side taking the brunt of the impact. The nose of the car pitched down into a ditch and left the car in an uncomfortable, slightly vertical position.
Vega shook his head to clear his thoughts. It had all happened so fast. He had never been in a car accident before. He checked his body for any injuries, but apart from being a bit sore he was fine.
Suddenly the door on the drivers' side was being rattled. Someone was trying to open it, but failed. The person outside then proceeded by punching and pulling at the door and shouting at the driver if he was okay or needed help.
Vega glanced at his chauffeur. The man was slumped on the fore wheel. He was breathing laboriously and Vega didn't think he would live through the day. It even irked him that the person outside had first ran towards the driver and not to the passenger. Everyone knew that passengers were more important than drivers.
The person moved away, and a second later Vega could hear tapping on his side of the window, insistent and loud. Seeing that the person on the other side evidently wasn't going to let up, Vega gave an exasperated sigh and wound down the window. Instantly he was hit with a blast of frigid cold as the wind burst inside the car. Vega slid back on the seat, as far away from the snow and wind as possible, and pulled up his hood to shield himself, just as the figure on the other side poked his head and shoulders into the car.
The man was dressed in a warm, but cheap, winter coat, complete with gloves. Even under the clothes Vega could see he was in good condition. He appeared Asian and was a particularly ugly specimen at that, with wild red hair and features that were too angular.
"Are you blind?" the man snapped without preamble. "Your driver is wounded!"
Vega eyed him distastefully from under his cowl. Confronted with someone this ugly, the Spanish assassin was once again reminded how blessed he was with his own beauty. "Shouldn't you be more concerned with the passenger instead?" he asked.
The man eyed him suspiciously. "You seem fine to me."
"But you couldn't have been certain," Vega observed in a tone that suggested he was talking to a small child. "I could have been injured."
"Yes, but that's not the case now, is it?" The Asian man reached around the inside of the window – dripping snow and water onto the expensive fabric of the backseat, Vega noticed with annoyance – to unlock the door on the driver's side. Once unlocked, he went back outside to check up on the driver himself. He opened the door and leaned forward, taking off one glove to touch the side of the chauffeur's neck. After a moment, he leaned back.
"He's dead," the man said, sounding troubled.
"Of course," Vega replied dismissively. He had figured by the way the driver had been breathing that he wouldn't last long. "And don't bother calling an ambulance or anything of that nonsense," he continued when he saw the red-haired man looking around. "Cell phones don't have range in this storm, and aid will be long in coming with the way the roads are now."
The man stood and glared at Vega. "A bit callous, are we?" he remarked snidely. "There's a dead man here! Is there something wrong with you or are you just that much of a pompous fool?"
Vega couldn't say he appreciated the man's tone. Still, he decided to grace the ugly creature with an answer. "You seem terribly riled up over such an insignificant thing," he said, emphasizing the word insignificant. "He was my chauffeur. He died fulfilling his duty. I see no problem with this." He tossed his head, smiling. "In fact, he should have been glad he was allowed to bask in my beauty for as long as he could."
The red-haired man stared at him for a moment, and then turned away, muttering. Vega thought he could hear the words 'sociopath' and 'freak', but wasn't certain. The wind made it difficult to make out. Abruptly the man shook his head, as though gathering his thoughts, and rapped the car's roof.
"So are you just going to sit there looking important or are you going to come out of this thing?" he demanded.
Vega raised an eyebrow incredulously, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And go with you? I think not. I would rather stay here."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Fine! Whatever!" he spat, his patience gone. He made an angry, cutting gesture. "Stay here and rot for all I care!"
He turned away and was quickly swallowed by the raging blizzard. Vega smiled thinly. Finally he had gotten rid of the ugly bastard. It was unfortunate Vega would probably be late for the tournament and it was a pity he couldn't tear into people with his claw, but it wasn't a terrible loss. At least he didn't have to struggle through the snow and could stay warm in the car. He simply had to wait for the storm to blow over and then he could –
Suddenly the nose of the limousine dipped down and caused the Spaniard to grab hold of the edge of the window. He quickly glanced around, wondering what had happened. Another motion from the car, and he realized what was going on: whether it had been the rapping and punching of the red-haired man or something else, the car was sinking further and further into the snow. It was beginning to slant at an even more awkward angle.
Realizing that remaining in the car wouldn't be as comfortable as he had first thought and could even prove dangerous, Vega opened the door and got out. The snow immediately settled around him like a white blanket, the wind whipping at his clothes, the sharp cold forcing him to squint. He hissed and drew his fur-lined coat closer around himself.
Vega looked around and saw the Asian man standing a couple of feet away, observing him.
"Decided to get off your ass after all, did you?" he remarked, smirking.
Vega ignored the man – he distantly remembered he was called Adon – and brushed past, leaving the Thai to catch up.
For a moment, both trudged silently through the snow while being set upon by the blizzard from all sides. It wasn't long before a rickety shed loomed up through the buffeting snow. Suddenly, Adon broke into a sprint and reached the shed first. By the time Vega got there, the Thai had found the door and was already inside, stamping and wringing his hands to bring warmth back into his body.
Vega glanced inside, a look of disgust clear on his face. How he hated this. He could have been opening the door to his hotel room right now. Instead he had to spend the time, who knew how long, in this sorry excuse for a shelter. He sniffed the air and picked up a faint, but filthy smell. It had probably been an animal shelter too, Vega thought, chagrined.
"Whatever you do," the other sneered from inside, "close the damned door. It's freezing in here."
Vega threw a contemptuous glance at the ugly Thai and finally decided that he had no choice. He had to wait this blizzard out. He stepped inside and closed the door. Then he pulled back his fur-lined hood, revealing his face.
A change came over the Thai's own face as he took in the long braid and the smooth, feminine features of the other man for the first time.
"Oh, now I know who you are!" Adon exclaimed triumphantly. "You're that Spanish psychopath murderer! You work for Shadaloo."
Adon grinned and took up a fighting position.
"Well, I'm not afraid of you. I'm not the King of Muay Thai for nothing. I can hand you your ass in a duel anytime."
Vega threw a glance at the other but decided it wasn't worth his time to react. Instead he looked around to see what the shed had to offer, but it wasn't much. Wet, dirty hay was piled up on one side. There were two windows to let in the daylight so that it wasn't completely dark inside. Every time the wind hit the shed, the wooden building shook and snow came falling down from cracks in the roof.
Adon frowned in annoyance at being ignored. He relaxed his stance and tried again. "Hey! I'm talking to you! If I had known who you were I would never have rescued you from that car accident. Do you hear me?"
Vega replied while pointedly looking out the window: "As I recall, I left the car myself. I don't need any rescuing, especially from the likes of you."
"What do you mean with 'the likes of you'?" Adon fumed. "You're one of those arrogant bastards who thinks they're better than anyone else, aren't you? Well here's something to remember: you're nothing but a fraud who isn't half as scary as you would like to be. You're acting all high-and-mighty and try to ignore everyone around you, but you know: no matter how much you try, you'll always end up alone and miserable, with no one to look after you when you're old and ugly and…"
"I strongly suggest you don't complete that sentence…" The words, though still civil, were dripping with venom and hatred.
Adon, having lost himself somewhat in his tirade, hadn't noticed that Vega had stirred from his place across the shed. But now he did and the sight wasn't pretty.
Vega's full attention was on Adon now. He was slowly prowling forward, left arm slightly raised and the fingers of his left hand curled up in a claw. But it were the icy blue eyes that gave Adon pause. They were devoid of compassion and glittering with the intent to kill. And even with his heavy winter coat, the man still managed to move with a deadly fluidity. This was a very, very dangerous man.
As he took up a fighting position again, Adon remembered suddenly that the Spaniard almost always used a long, wicked claw as a weapon to tear into his opponents. And before he could choose his words more carefully they had already left his mouth.
"And what exactly are you going to do to me, huh?" he taunted. "You don't even have you claw equipped! You don't stand a chance against the King of…oomph."
Vega had struck with the speed of a snake and Adon barely managed to avoid the clawed hand aiming for his eyes.
"Touchy, are we?" Adon teased, and, while dodging, ended up between Vega and the door of the shed.
Suddenly Vega dropped and his legs shot out, taking Adon by complete surprise. In a second he was lying on his back on the cold, dirt-packed floor with Vega staring down at him with obvious contempt.
"Since you didn't complete that sentence I will be generous and leave it at this," the Spaniard said smoothly. "I suggest you stay on your side of the shed and I stay on mine." He paused a moment and then, as an afterthought, he added: "And do keep your mouth shut. Your voice irritates me to no end."
Vega would have loved to tear up this ugly creature right now, but as the Thai had already noticed; his claw and mask were indeed not here. While traveling to Russia by airplane he had his equipment sent out before him as a special delivery. It would cause all unnecessary problems if the airport customs found those items in his travel bags. His equipment would be waiting in his hotel room, but of course, that was no use to him now.
And since Vega wasn't very keen on fighting without the protection of his mask he decided to tolerate the Thai for now.
Adon grunted something that Vega took to be a confirmation. He stepped back and Adon got up. Vega walked to the very back of the shed and looked outside, but the blizzard was still raging. He just had to endure this unfortunate turn of events.
For a moment a serene silence descended upon the rickety shed. Vega sighed. Peace at last.
But of course it didn't last.
The Thai started pacing, not unlike a cornered animal, shooting glances out the tiny window on occasion even though it was doubtful the blizzard would let up anytime soon.
"That's all well and good," he grumbled, seemingly more to himself than Vega, and evidently not paying much attention to the Spaniard's comment about keeping his mouth shut, "but until this blows over I'm stuck with some sick, callous murderer."
Abruptly he turned to Vega, peering at the Spaniard, expression not so much accusatory as curious. "I mean, doesn't killing people for that criminal organization of yours bother you at all?"
Vega sighed heavily, his tactic 'if you ignore it, it will go away' having obviously failed.
"Very well, since I don't seem to get rid of you, I'm going to grace you with an answer," he replied, but refrained from looking at the Thai. "No, killing doesn't bother me at all. In fact, it makes me feel better when I have rid the world of yet another ugly human specimen. But alas, today I have seen that my task is far from over. These days, hideous people are everywhere it seems."
Adon blinked, momentarily taken aback by the reply. Then he laughed. "That's your reason for killing people? What sort of bizarre thought process is that?" He stopped and tilted his head. "Why should it matter if someone is ugly or not?"
A haunted expression flitted across Vega's face, but it was gone so fast that Adon couldn't be sure he had actually seen it. Whatever it was, his question provoked another fierce reaction.
Vega turned to look at the Thai, eyes narrowed in anger. "You dare ask me why ugliness matters?" he hissed, voice rising a pitch. "You, whose very face is an affront to this world?"
But then the Spaniard seemed to collect himself. He fell silent and his expression chanced into that of feigned indifference. Just when Adon thought he wasn't going to say anything else, Vega started talking again, his soft cultured voice making the words almost poetic.
"Ugliness makes me sick, makes the world sick. It is my duty to purge the world of ugliness so that beauty may live on forever."
Adon's lips twisted in a smile that wasn't meant to be friendly. The man's behavior was starting to strain his patience. "Purge the world? What a ridiculous notion!" he sneered. "There must be even more wrong with you than I thought!"
The Thai began pacing again, his steps brisk and forceful.
"I don't care about your warped sense of melodrama," he said, words spiteful. "I don't care about your trivial, insane ideas of ugliness and beauty. You think beauty is so important? Being beautiful doesn't make you a good fighter. It doesn't make you stronger." He jerked his head scornfully. "Being the strongestis the only thing that counts in this world. If you don't realize that, you're a fool."
Vega scoffed. "That's a delusion, nothing more. People like you want to believe that strength is the only thing you need, but without beauty it's worth nothing."
Vega smiled then, as if he was seeing something that Adon could not. His voice took on a mesmerizing cadence, velvety and almost tender as if he was talking about a cherished lover.
"True beauty ascends and far outweighs the concept of strength," he continued. "Mere strength is meaningless in the face of blinding beauty. Only when you have beauty combined with strength are you worthy to call yourself the perfect fighter."
Vega grinned wickedly and caught Adon's eye. "If you wish," he said, "I can prove my point in the upcoming tournament. Or perhaps it's even better to start a duel when there are no officials present."
His grin deepened and a hungry glint flashed in his eye.
"You see, I operate best when no rules apply."
"Of course you would. You're a twisted nutcase. What would you care for rules?" Adon observed, unfazed by the man's bloodlust. He felt confident he could defeat this deranged lunatic anywhere, anytime. "If you don't watch it, I just might take you up on that offer. Just to show you that your notion of beauty is outdated."
Vega's expression didn't change. "You honestly belief so, do you?"
"Of course!" Adon sat down on his haunches with a smooth movement. "You think beauty is the pinnacle of perfection? Ha! Don't make me laugh! Being better than others, and being able to prove it, is! That is perfection! Winning is what garners you respect. Having a pretty face does not." The Thai's eyes were glittering feverishly now, caught up in the moment. "I should know," he went on excitedly. "I have been striving to better myself for years and years to show all of them that I am the greatest Muay Thai warrior there is! That Muay Thai is the greatest martial art there is! If it hadn't been for Sagat, I would already have –"
Adon checked himself, only now seemingly remembering who he was speaking to. He shifted his weight, demeanor abruptly changing. His gaze drifted to the window on his side as he put one elbow on his knee, propping a hand under his chin. "Forget it," he muttered. "I don't even know why I'm still talking to you."
"At the game's end we shall see who gains," Vega commented calmly.
Adon shrugged dismissively. "I have absolutely no clue what you're babbling about."
The Spaniard smiled mockingly. "I was not really expecting you to understand something like that. You're a simple person with a simple mindset and simple goals. It's a proverb. It means that in the end we will see who will win and who will lose."
"I know what a proverb is!" Adon snapped. He was back to his feet again, glaring. "You think you're so great because you prance around in expensive clothes and drive around in a limousine? You're not better than me!"
Vega raised a delicate eyebrow. "If me driving around in a car troubles you, then, pray tell, why were you traveling on foot? And in a blizzard nonetheless, while you could have just easily hailed a taxi?"
The Thai glowered and scratched his chin, as though taken off guard by the question. Then he recovered and jerked his head. "For the exercise, of course! Driving around in a car doesn't keep you in shape, you know. Besides, do you realize how expensive a plane ticket to Russia is? I'm not going to waste money on a taxi when I can walk instead." His thin lips curled disdainfully. "Not that you would know anything about that kind of moderation."
Vega shrugged. "I don't care how much a plane ticket to Russia is. In fact, I don't really care about money. It's something that makes living easier, but other than that I don't use it much. Besides, Shadaloo would have enough resources for me at its disposal to use freely. So again: money is not an issue."
Adon glanced at the window to judge the weather outside and then looked back at the Spanish assassin. "So Shadaloo is that rich, eh?" He asked, and thought it over for a moment. "Having the use of so many resources for myself doesn't sound too bad. Where do I sign up?"
Vega blinked. He hadn't even remotely expected such an answer. For a moment he didn't know what to say. He studied Adon sharply, searching the Thai's face to see if he was genuine. But the man's face, normally so expressive, gave nothing away.
"You would join Shadaloo?" Vega asked eventually, voice incredulous. "You don't strike me as the type who follows orders without question. "
"No, I'm not," Adon replied calmly. "But there's always a first time for everything, isn't there?"
He stared a second longer at the Spaniard's skeptical expression. Then he suddenly burst out in high-pitched laughter. "Seriously!? You seriously believe all that!? It's a joke, you retarded buffoon! I can't believe you were actually stupid enough to fall for it! As if I care for your silly organization!"
A myriad of emotions flashed across Vega's face. It went from initial shock to outrage to murderous intent and everything in between. No one ridiculed him and lived to tell the tale, Vega fumed. No one!
He moved to put on his mask and claw, ready to tear that Thai idiot limb from limb but remembered to his chagrin that his equipment was not here. Vega cursed in Spanish.
Adon, seeing Vega lose his composure like that, started laughing even harder. "What was that you said before? 'At the game's end we shall see who gains'?" he taunted. "Guess who just won the game! You lose, you Spanish bastard!"
With those words he darted for the door, kicked it open, and burst outside into the now receding blizzard, cackling madly.