Vaas kissed the Jungle and the Jungle came; willingly, quietly, vengefully. It came like he knew it would. It came like it was the only thing in the history of the world. It was like a blanket, covering him, protecting him. It shielded him against the monsters; only, the monsters weren't real. The monsters were the people, the everyday "average" people. The monsters were those women on the dock, looking for something to spend their paycheck on. The monsters were those men who stared at him, too dumb to comprehend what he was saying. The monsters were fake, but to Vaas, to Vaas, they were very, very real.
He hid from them in the Jungle, alongside Insanity. Insanity spoke to him. It told him everything was okay, that everything was fine and ready and that he was unstoppable, invincible even. It told him that his shitty life was over. Insanity had come to save him.
And he went with it. He went with it because he couldn't think of anything better to do. He went with it because it was his only option. He went with it because it felt good.
Insanity and the Jungle were like sisters; twins, only moments apart. One found him on the heels of another. They worked together, pushing and pulling him to be what he knew he could become. The Jungle was a tender brunette, Insanity a teasing redhead.
Together they willed him on, one silent while the other worked. They both loved him differently. The Jungle loved him because she could control him and manipulate him into whatever she wanted him to be. She knew his ambition and knew what his future could hold. Insanity loved him because she could see what he was. She knew his darkest secrets; she knew what he had to hide. She loved his insecurities, and he loved that she loved them. She covered him, and protected him. She was his savior. Vaas will be indebted to them for the rest of his existence.
The first time he used the sisters he knew they were a perfect fit. The Jungle insured that he would be okay, that he would be ready to face the monsters. Insanity had protected his soul. She had covered his mind, telling him he had no reason to fear. You aren't doing anything wrong, she said. He believed her, trusted her, and trusted her sister just as much.
The monster he killed was a man. An ordinary man, but by far the scariest of them all. He was a teacher, teaching science to teens; Vaas imagined that it was a dull existence. But the man was evil; the man was reasonable. Reason did not go well with Insanity, so Vaas drugged the man and tied him up in a small dingy basement.
Vaas wondered which sister he loved more; the Jungle loved him more, that much was for certain. She did things for him that Insanity would never dream of doing. But he loved Insanity. She hid him, and for that he would always be grateful.
The next monster he killed was a woman, pregnant, swollen with life. She'd screamed at him, begged for her release, not only for herself, but for her child. Vaas scowled at her. She thought she was so fantastic, she thought she was so holy, so godly. He could read it on her face that she thought she was doing a service for the world. She wasn't.
She had died like the first, proving that monsters were as mortal as anyone else.
The third was a CEO, the fourth a mother of two with a cheating husband and fixation on knitting. The fifth was a priest and the sixth was one of his nuns. Seven, eight, nine, and ten, were all co-workers, working at the same stupid office for over six years. Seven and eight were secretaries, only too happy to offer Vaas copious amounts of sex for their release. Vaas, of course, was not interested. Nine and ten were businessmen that Vaas suspected were not completely "straight"; he didn't like to peer into the lives of his victims, so he tried not to listen as the two men told each other of their love before their eventual burning.
He'd murdered over a hundred people, in the call of duty. Each one had been different, and each one memorable, although some of them got confusing from time-to-time.
This was number one-hundred-thirty-seven. It would be his last.
Vaas's trusty machete was in his hand. He sat, in front of the screens watching Jason come ever so closer.
He'd done too many things, to many awful things; things that he couldn't take back, things that he wanted to blot out from his past. It wasn't possible, so he was blotting himself out instead.
The air was humid.
He'd realized that, despite his tendencies, he could be a "real person". He'd watched himself slowly turn into the things he'd feared. He'd watched as he slowly morphed into a monster of nightmarish proportions.
He'd slowly begun to recognize that he had two selves. One was the side that needed Insanity so dearly; it needed the Jungle too, and the sisters were only too happy to oblige. They were his crutch, and his grasp on personal normalcy.
But there was another self. The second of the two was the one that craved human contact. He craved the world of the monsters. This side wanted to live with the monsters and know them, and be them, not ingest their souls by watch their deaths.
But then, he met Hoyt - a man who hid behind a thicker persona, a persona of anger and blood, falsities and drugs. Vaas watched him offer him the drugs. He watched himself trip and get stuck inside his trap. He had watched Hoyt snare and tempt him. Hoyt enticed Vaas so finely that he didn't know he should want to get out. This man was not a monster, not like the others. No, this man was the devil.
Vaas had to play nice. To make up for it he'd killed dozens: children, old women, single men, it was all the same. What he used to savor turned dull and disappointing.
He'd begun, ever so slowly, to realized that his life was in shambles. Nothing was right; everything was turned upside down. Vaas pondered about killing the crime lord. He'd threatened him even, but Hoyt had only laughed at him. The laugh had brought shame to Vaas.
Death was the only way.
Vaas could feel the Jungle around him and could hear the voices of Insanity. This was the only way. He would give into the sisters. It would be easier this way.
Vaas hoped Citra would throw some flowers on his grave. But then again, she probably wouldn't give a fuck; she was a monster after all. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he wished he'd never seen her face.
He'd thought seriously about killing her, but she was a monster that was immortal and could not be slayed by his hands.