Cheers and jeers erupted through the makeshift arena as the first blow was dealt. The long-haired assassin cringed behind his mask as the other warrior's punch connected heavily to his chest. After a quick stumble backwards, Vega made no hesitation in retaliating. There was a quick flash of silver followed by a pained grunt, his opponent's blood dripping from his claw and staining the ground beneath them.

The fight was a tough one, but Vega wasn't about to let an unknown take his title. He flipped backwards, narrowly missing a flurry of punches before landing in the corner of the cage. It was a common mistake for his opponents to think they had him 'trapped', and this 'kid' was no different. The fighter lunged at the assassin, only to be counted by sharp kick to the face, sending him flying head first into the ground. He struggled to get back onto his feet, but Vega was already poised over him. Much like a vulture waiting for a worn out animal to die.

A high-pitched, blood curdling cackle erupted from Vega's throat as he pinned the man down with his foot, the heel of his boot crushing his throat. Not for a second did he relent, not even when the other was begging for his life. If anything, it just made Vega drive his boot in harder. There was little that pleased him more hearing someone cry and beg for mercy.

But what was a victory without bloodshed? For a 'respectable' fighter, probably an honourable one. Luckily for Vega, he didn't give a single damn about being respectable in the eyes of his fellow fighters. So long as he won and it was an entertaining (for him, at least) fight, he couldn't care less. Removing his foot from his opponent's throat, Vega bent down, lifting the smaller man by his shirt.

"P-Please, don't..."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"... Please don't... I'll give you any...thing..."

"Hmph. The only thing I want is your blood!"

A nasty, sadistic smirk formed behind Vega's mask as he drew back his clawed fist. The once brave warrior let out a broken scream as the weapon tore through his flesh like a hot knife through butter. Laughing coldly, Vega kicked the man's body off of the end of his claw before thrusting it triumphantly into the air. The room filled with cheering and chanting as Vega gave them all a bow.

"That's a three win-streak for Vega, he still holds the crown!"

"... I quit."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Staring down the head of Shadaloo, M. Bison, was something most people wouldn't dare attempt. The man was a force not to be reckoned with, he could kill a man with his bare hands within an instant. Knowing this all too well, Vega still stood his ground against him.

"Explain yourself, maggot!" Bison spat, his patience already wearing thin with the other.

"I'm going back to cage fighting. What's left for me here, anyway? Get someone else to be your damn lapdog." Vega's response was flat, he wasn't in the mood for entertaining the dictator today.

It was true. There was nothing left. Sure, he'd wormed his way into using Bison's schemes for his own benefit, but what was there now that Shadaloo was no longer the force it used to be? It'd been months since they'd taken action on anything. It'd just gotten to the point where Vega was sent to scout out useless information and it was something that bored him to tears. There was no real threat behind the group any more.

The fights he'd been in last night... They were incredible. He hadn't had a rush like that in years, especially not while working for Bison. He wanted that feeling back. He wanted it back bad.

Bison didn't respond. At least, not verbally. He pushed his chair back and stood, his heavy footsteps echoing through the cold, hard room as he strode towards the assassin. Without warning, he lashed out and grabbed Vega's pretty little neck with a deadly grip. A more than satisfying gasp escaped Vega's lips as he choked.

"I'm getting tired of your crap. You want in, you want out, you want in and then you want out again. What's it going to be?" Bison growled his warning, the hand choking Vega was starting to glow a soft purple.

Vega coughed and spluttered as Bison's grip slowly got tighter and tighter, his massive fingers threatening to crush the smaller man's windpipe at any given moment. The more he struggled, the more he slipped into the vicious grip. He managed to get a sideways glance of the dictator, noting the cold smirk on his face. Sick son of a bitch.

"... I-... In."

As soon as he choked out the magic word, Vega found himself in a crumpled heap on the floor. He coughed and wheezed, trying to suck air back into his lungs. Vega couldn't help but feel an overwhelming disappointment in himself. Bison know exactly how to get him. He knew that Vega refused to die by his hand and he was quick to use it against him. No matter how many times the assassin told himself he didn't care... In the end, he did. His freedom wasn't worth that sort of death.

"Hm, good call. Looks like I won't be needing another 'lapdog' after all."