Vaas stands in the basement of Hoyt's headquarters. Vaas is alone in the mold and darkness save for the man sitting in front of him, his body strapped to a chair by thick rope. His eyes are wide and unmoving, his expression blank.
For a few seconds there is only silence as Vaas stands in front of him, holding his breath, waiting for his reaction. Vaas is not nervous. He knows what is about to happen; he has done this before many, many times. Tonight is merely another rehearsal for an upcoming performance, a performance he will share with Rook Island and all of its undeserving inhabitants.
Vaas watches as the man slowly raises his head to face him.
The rough texture of the Machete brushes against his cheeks as Vaas smiles. A small bead of sweat rolls down Vaas's face as he watches the man helplessly stomp his feet, his face red. Vaas takes a deep breath, drinking in his fear and the stale scent of the cell.
Insanity does not bother Vaas; it is the better part of him, his true self. He is everything he has ever wanted to be. Vaas is impeccable, he is perfect, Vaas is indestructible. He is everything you will never be and more.
Vaas leans forward until his face is inches from the man's, and he looks into his eyes, bloodshot and full of suffering and terror.
"Is something wrong? You don't look like you feel well."
The man presses himself into the chair, trying to get away from him, to escape his binds. A trickle of blood slides down his chin as the machete digs into his ear.
"YOU FUCK, ANSWER ME!"
The sound of screams mesh with Vaas's roar, filling the cell with a symphony of fear and anger. The man's fingernails crack and break as he frantically digs his fingers into the rope binds, desperate to escape, but knowing it is impossible.
He throws back his head and lets out a pained howl of defeat, tears streaming down his face.
Vaas smiles.
Every night he'll bring a tourist into the basement and seat them in their special chair, and allow them to play audience as they watch him perform. Every night Vaas rehearses, preparing for his big show, his masterpiece, his performance of a lifetime.
Their screams are his applause, their cries his praise.
He smiles and bows as they sob and plead, their voices cracking, their throats dry.
Every night, it is the same.
Every night, it is Insanity.