Ten
Shadowloo

Vega slapped her, felt the satisfying sting of his palm against her cheek, and it was she who recoiled from him for the first time. Her hands covered her face, shielding her reaction from him, but he could see her breathing deeply, angrily. The irate static that filled the back of the truck replaced any earlier feelings that might've been floating on the air.

"I do not want your pity," he spat at her. He didn't want her throwing herself at him, thinking he could find any kind of comfort in her body. The thought of it, his reaction to it, repulsed him. Never did he allow women to have this effect on him. Never, and he wouldn't start with this one.

She finally removed her hands from her face, a livid handprint imprinted on her cheek. "It was not pity," she hissed at him. Her eyes blazed in her fury, cold slivers of ice that threatened to slice his skin.

"Then, what was it?" he asked, heatedly.

"I do not know!" she yelled back at him, and he smiled to himself. So, she could lose her cool, occasionally. She took a deep breath and regained her composure, but he had already witnessed that slip of emotion. "Besides, I was not the one who kissed you. You kissed me."

"Because I thought that was what you expected from me." Except that wasn't entirely true. He had done it own his accord because of something he thought he felt for her. No, it was something he knew he felt, but the feeling disgusted him. To crave her body was one thing, but to equate emotion to that feeling was another.

"Since when do you care what I expect from you?" she asked with a derisive snort. "According to you, you do not care about anyone or anything except yourself." She made a valid point, using his own words against him, and he couldn't say anything in his own defense. Instead, he turned from her, sulking to himself.

Despite what he told Ororo about whores and wives, his experiences with women were limited. He hadn't been ready for his first sexual experience with a woman when it happened. He didn't like to think about the premise of how it happened, and had successfully run from the memory for years. Since then, he'd always treated sex as a dirty, putrid act that only gave him a moment's pleasure and nothing more, an act that was only meant for dirty alleyways and grimy hotels.

He never let a woman kiss him, never uttered any saccharine endearments, during sex. He never undressed completely, only unclothing enough to allow him access. So, sex with him was usually nothing more than the pushing up of skirts, the pushing aside of underwear, and the rough scrubbing of backs against the nearest wall. And when it was all over, he found the nearest shower and washed away the stink, the filth, of the act until his skin was raw. Even now, his skin tingled, though nothing had happened between him and Ororo aside from a kiss.

His reaction to Ororo had nothing to do with that, though. At least, that was what he told himself. Somehow, he knew that wasn't completely true, but he felt better, less inadequate, believing that his reaction had solely been because he felt she pity him. He didn't want her pity; he didn't need her pity. His experiences in life may not have been what one would call "wonderful," but he'd never wanted for anything in the material sense. There was no need for her to coddle him as if he was some broken doll.

He finally turned back to face her. Her eyes grazed his face, catching his eyes. He could still feel anger emitting from her, and he glared back at her just for good measure. She should've been cowering in fear of him, but she openly challenged him. She never said she didn't fear him, but he knew she wasn't afraid of him. Despite everything she knew about him, she still didn't fear him. When had it come to this?

———

Sagat calmed himself when he reached the truck where Vega and Ororo were being held. He looked over his shoulder in Creed's direction, but he was long gone. Sagat wished he was gone for good, but luck wasn't that kind to him. He couldn't believe he let something Creed said effect him like that. Creed seemed like the type of person who liked to speak before he used his undersized brain, anyway.

He wanted to believe that Creed was lying to him, trying to get some kind of reaction from him, but there'd been something resolute about Creed's tone, something that made him sound so sure of himself. Before he could really think about the things Creed was saying, he found himself stalking toward the covered truck with murder on his mind, stopping short before he could rip away the military green tarp.

He'd seen more happen between them than they probably believed. Their relationship—if you could call it that—fascinated him on some level. To see them come together interested him, but he hadn't expected to hear that there might be something more going on than what he believed. He expected a lot of things to come of this, but not that.

Ororo angered him. He had expected her defiance, but he hadn't expected her to attach herself to someone like Vega. He hadn't expected Vega to readily accept her, either, but it seemed as if they forged some kind of camaraderie. Putting them together had really been a test of their tolerance. He knew Vega seemed to have an aversion to women, and he knew Ororo had an aversion to evil.

He'd expected them to be at each other's throats, but the opposite happened. What was that saying again? Opposites attract. Maybe, for once, it was right. He had two completely different people who would dislike each other under ordinary circumstances working together. When he watched the way the two interacted, he felt a twinge of jealousy, but he would never admit that to anyone but himself. To be jealous of Vega was a fate worse than death in his opinion.

He could care less about Vega's looks. His envy stemmed from the fact that Ororo cared about him. Despite the vanity, despite the bloodlust, she cared about Vega. He knew it was in her good nature to care about everyone, but she sacrificed so much for Vega. Maybe, she knew that no matter how much Sagat threatened he couldn't truly harm her, not until she pushed him just far enough. Perhaps, that is why she stuck her neck out for Vega. Maybe, it was for her own selfish reasons, reasons he didn't much care to think about.

Vega treated Ororo with a mixture of antipathy and fondness. One moment he seemed to be drawing to her, and the next he was pulling away from her. Defending her and abhorring her all in the same breath. He'd always thought of Vega as an asexual creature because he didn't show any ardor for anything other than blood and killing. Sagat hadn't believed that fleshy pleasures of the sexual variety appealed to him, but Creed seemed to think otherwise. Then again, what did Creed know? He was a moron.

Sagat pushed his impending feelings about the situation between Ororo and Vega out of his mind, as he thought about Bison. Ordinarily, he wouldn't depend on Bison as a stronghold because he knew how fickle the man could be. But the trip was needed, anyway. He had munitions that he should've delivered to Bison eons ago, but he kept finding reasons to put it off. That was his excuse for his sudden trip to Bison's. Though, he dreaded actually having to intermingle with the man.

In his experience, Mike Bison did not play well with others. He was the type of man who always had to have his way. He didn't care who he had to use, what he had to do, or what laws he had to break in order to do so. He was even prone to temper tantrums that he tried to disguise as a "show of power" when he didn't get what he wanted. Sagat pushed away an amusing image of Bison demolishing a sand castle with a Chuck Taylor-clad foot and forcing mud pies down some poor child's throat.

He wouldn't deny that Bison wielded much power, though, and he would have to be careful on how he went about taking that power from him. If he gave Bison even the least little reason to suspect him, he might find himself in worse conditions that Vega. He wondered who Bison had in mind to take him down should the time come. Maybe, when Bison decided he really wanted to get rid of him, he would do the deed himself. Not likely, though.

Sagat stood outside the truck for a little longer before pulling back the tarp, expecting the worst. He didn't catch them in the act, as he'd suspected after Creed's warning, but something had definitely happened between them. He could tell by the way that they glared at each other. Who wouldn't notice that battle of the glares?

They didn't look at him, though he made no effort to be silent. They only seemed intent on staring each other down. He had to get those two away from each other, and he had to do it now. They either looked like they were going to kill each other or… he didn't want to think about it. He said very little, as he led Ororo away from Vega, and for once, she didn't protest.

———

Stand down. Those were Scott's orders. Stand down, they were on their way. Logan contacted the X-Men with the little information he knew about Ororo. He'd spoken to Hank who relayed everything Scott had said to him. Scott and Jean were already in Thailand, back in Hua Hin where this whole mess started. The others were gone to handle some crisis involving the Hellfire Club. Sebastian Shaw never gave up, did he?

Scott and Jean were miles away from Logan, and Scott expected him to stand down until they found a rendezvous point. Like hell he would. What did Scott expect him to do? Stand around and play skip-rope with the village children while waiting for them. Fuck that. They could've stayed at the mansion and talk about their strategies and game plans for all he cared. He was going to rescue his friend with or without them. He was working on borrowed time.

He explained in as much detail as he could to Hank about the current situation. He told him what he learned from Elena. He told him about his encounter with Creed in the jungle. And Hank told him what he found out about Sagat. Logan told him to do some research on a man named Bison. If anyone could find out about him, it was Hank. He didn't know their exact coordinates. All he could tell him was to tell Scott and Jean that he was going to some place called Shadowloo.

He wasn't so successful in finding people who were willing to go to that place. When he asked an innkeeper about transportation to Shadowloo, the man frowned up and asked him, "Why you wanna go to place like that? It is very bad place." He guessed that place was more of a shithole than this one. He hadn't thought that was possible.

He didn't really need anyone to go with him as if he was inept. All he needed was someone to point him in the right direction, give him something that was motorized, and he'd do the rest. Now, all he had to do was figure out what to do about the girl. She'd been helpful. He'd send her a "thank you" card or something. He really didn't need her getting into any more trouble on his behalf. She wasn't exactly the easiest person in the world to get rid of, though. He'd figure out how to get around her in the morning.

———

Ororo fumed silently, as she let Sagat lead her off to wherever it was he was taking her. His tent, that's where he was taking her. She should've known. Of course, he had the largest tent in the camp, not that she expected anything less from him. She didn't expect that he would try to take advantage of her. He made it quite clear how he wanted all this to work.

"Overcompensating for something?" she asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You would know better than anyone if I am or if I'm not," he said.

"That was a long time ago, Victor, and memories have a way of exaggerating themselves." Ororo said. She'd rather not remember all the times they were together. Those days were long past.

"Or not," he said with a laugh.

She rolled her eyes at him before taking a seat on a makeshift chair. She waited for him to get to the point. There was always a reason he wanted to see her. She wouldn't ask. She would wait until he said what he really wanted to say. That had been one trait she appreciated about him for the most part. He didn't beat around the bush when he had something to say.

"What's going on between you and Vega?" he finally asked without build up.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked. She'd wanted him to get to the point, but she already didn't like the direction this conversation was taking.

"I think you know," he said. She thought she was playing the part of the innocent. She didn't fool him.

"And I think you assume too much." Ororo answered glaring at him. There was nothing going on between her and Vega, and that should've been plain to see.

Sagat began to pace in front of her. "Creed seemed to think that you and Vega were getting quite cozy together," he told her. He stopped pacing long enough to look at Ororo's face. Her expression remained emotionless, betraying nothing at all.

"Why would he say something like that?" she asked.

"Because he…" Sagat trailed off for a moment, seeming to rethink his words. If Creed said it, it was undoubtedly crude and needed rephrasing. "He said he smelled your arousal on the air."

Ororo paused for a beat before she answered him. "He could have been mistaken." Ororo said. She knew she was lying. Creed was about as feral as they came, and he—like Logan—had senses that never lied. But would Sagat know that? Had he studied up enough on mutants to have that sort of knowledge?

"Ororo, I'm not stupid. I know as well as you do that he wasn't mistaken. Lying was never one of your better qualities, anyway." Sagat said, shaking his head. She wondered what tipped him off—the fact that she was lying or something else. One thing was certain. He was jealous.

This is how things had always been between them, even when they were together. One of the worst fights they ever had was when he accused her of sleeping with two brothers—twins, Bhakati and Bharat —when they were together. She would never deny that they were beautiful with their dark eyes and sun-kissed skin. She remembered how Bharat, the one who's name meant fire, the braver of the two, would whisper sins in her ears. But she was faithful to Sagat, always faithful despite his accusations.

They were no longer together, hadn't been in years, and he treated her as if they still really meant something to one another. He had to let the past go. She felt like screaming at him that he just needed to let her go, to let it all go. They were never meant to be. They wanted different things out of life. She wanted to promote peace. He wanted to destroy the world. That made them natural enemies.

"What did happen between you two?" he asked, resuming his pace. She saw his eyebrows knit together in anticipation of her response.

"We shared a kiss," she answered. There was no reason not to tell him the truth about that. That's all it was a simple kiss. She accused Vega of initiating it, but she hadn't done anything to stop it. However, none of that mattered now.

"That's all?" he asked, as if he didn't believe her. She wondered what kind of things Creed had told him. She could only begin to imagine the rubbish that he'd probably planted in Sagat's head.

"That was it," she answered in the affirmative. He seemed satisfied with her answer because he didn't force the issue.

"Does he arouse you?" he asked suddenly.

She didn't want to get into that with him. Whatever she may or may not feel where Vega was concerned had nothing to do with them. And quite frankly, she didn't think it was any of his concern. "Does it really matter, Victor?" she asked, feeling her face warm. She refused to look at him. Instead, she looked down at the ground.

"Yes, it matters to me," he said, stopping in front of her, again. She looked up at him and she could see a deadly seriousness gleaming from his eye. So, what would happen if she told him the truth? Would he try to hurt Vega more?

"Maybe," she said quietly.

"That isn't an answer. Either he does or he doesn't."

"Why are you torturing yourself by asking me these questions?" she said, irritably, despising his persistence in getting her to make some kind of lewd confession.

"Because I'm interested," he said, trying to sound blasé. "Now, answer the question."

She had forgotten how much he liked details about everything, especially where her excitement was concerned. He was the first man she'd ever been with, but during the course of their relationship, he always wanted to know about her fantasies, her desires—no matter how dark. She thought he might've liked to watch her with another man, but his jealous streak wouldn't allow it.

"It is not as easy as yes or no," she said, still maintaining her calm voice.

"I don't see why not. It's a fairly straight-forward question that requires a fairly straight-forward answer," he said, his voice picking up a little more anger.

"You have forced us into this situation, and you cannot expect for certain feelings not to arise. When you are around someone constantly…" she started, but he stopped her.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, snidely, glaring at her.

"You can take it as you please," she shot back in a voice that was just as snide. She started to say something more, but she knew it would only anger him more.

"Why?" he asked. She was taken off-guard by the question, and she shook her head, not understanding. "Why do you feel compassion for him? Care for him?"

"Why not him, Victor?" Ororo asked.

Maybe, Vega didn't deserve her sympathy, but did Sagat deserve it any more because of their history? If anything, he deserved it far less than anyone did.

———

He didn't see Ororo again until the morning. He wondered what Sagat planned to do with her. She looked unharmed and perfectly calm, as usual, so all the things he thought happened had not. She didn't say anything to him, and the tension between them was strong on the air.

"I did not mean to strike you," he said after a few tense moments. He didn't know why he said that. His hand hadn't slipped and slapped her. It was just a reaction, but she hadn't been a threat to him. There'd been no need to hit her.

She didn't say anything, at first. He hadn't even believed that she heard him. "Apology accepted," she said without looking at him.

"That was not an apology," he said.

"I know it wasn't," she said in an unconvinced tone. She could believe whatever she wanted about what he said to her, but it might've been vaguely similar to an apology. But just vaguely.

It was nightfall again by the time the arrived at their destination, but the city was still alive. It never slept. It was a modern day Babylon. He knew the sounds well. He could imagine the children playing in the filthy streets when they should've been home. Yelling filled the streets, vendors trying to sell their various wares from knock-off purses to prostitutes. Anything you could ever want could be found on the streets for a price.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd spent any real time in the city. He no longer visited Shadowloo, if it could be helped. When Bison needed his "services," he would come into the city just long enough to receive his mission objectives. Then, he was gone again, just like that. Sometimes, he didn't even have to come to the city due to high-tech advances Bison made. The age of technology was beautiful.

Sometimes, he was required to accompany Bison or one of the other operatives on a mission, but even then, he never came into the city until the last minute, preferring to meet at their destination point rather than Shadowloo. And that's how things had been for years now. He tried to avoid Shadowloo at all costs.

Bison hadn't been the happiest person when Vega told him he would prefer to work from home, but he obliged him because of his tenure, saying it was a reward for Vega's loyalty. Vega hadn't cared what he called it at the time as long as he didn't have to stay there, anymore. He didn't waste any time getting away from their. The same day Bison granted it, he was gone.

He couldn't imagine what things would be like now that Bison had decided his "tenure" was up and turned him over to Sagat. Sweat trickled down his spine as he counted the minutes in his head. It wouldn't be long now. When the sounds of the street began to mellow, he couldn't help letting a small laugh escape his lips.

Bison operated on the outskirts of the city. People were under the illusion that Bison lived and did his dirty dealings in the city, but he didn't. He had a place in the city, but that wasn't where most of his operation took place. Bison's empire lay cleverly hidden in the jungles outside the city. It was so close, right under their noses, and they always missed it.

Vega's breathing stopped with the truck, as if he were waiting for the blow to his stomach that would never come. Shadowloo soldiers escorted them from the truck. A glint of recognition gleamed in their eyes when they saw Vega. Surely, this was not the proud, vain Spanish Assassin. Vega narrowed his eyes at them, setting his chin defiantly.

Instead of being taken to a cell from the truck, they were taken to a room with walls so white they screamed sterile. There were two simple, single beds in the room, the kind that be found at any surplus store. Connected to the room was a small bathroom that contained a shower, a toilet, and a sink. A small, movable closet sat catty-cornered across the room.

He walked toward it and opened it. He saw standard issue Shadowloo uniforms inside. He fingered the material of the cloth before slamming the doors closed. He hadn't been in one of these rooms since he "graduated" from Bison's training program. They were in a trainee's room, wannabe Shadowloo soldiers. He hadn't been in one of those rooms in years, and he had never planned to return after he left. Too many memories. Most of them not so good.

He would've preferred to be put in a cell than in that room. He walked towards the door and turned the knob. Locked. He shouldn't have expected anything less. The doors had always locked, even when he was in training. He walked away from the door, pushing himself into a corner. He slid down the wall, holding his fingers to his temple.

This was all some kind of sick, twisted joke. He closed his eyes tightly and told himself that when he opened them he'd still be on the back of the truck, or not there at all. But when he opened his eyes, blinding white walls threatened to fold in on him. He could feel his head swimming, and he slumped further down the wall. Blood drummed in his ears.

Now, he knew how Ororo had felt when she'd been trapped in her small confines. He had to get out. "Vega, are you okay?" he heard Ororo ask through the pounding in his ears.

"No, it hurts. Turn out the lights," he heard himself saying, though he hadn't meant to. He could recall uttering those words once before in a room just like that one. Vega, are you okay? Vega? Vega? he heard someone ask, but it wasn't Ororo's voice. It was someone else, someone from his past. No, it hurts. Turn out the lights, he heard a younger version of himself reply.

The lights went out, and for a moment, he almost panicked until he remembered that he told Ororo to turn them out. Dim light spilled through the small window on the door. He gripped the sides of his head and groaned. "Vega?" he heard Ororo saying from across the room. You were always my favorite, he heard the voice in his head.

"Vega?" her voice was louder and filled with alarm. She was closer. He couldn't answer her; his jaws seemed glued together. All he could do was listen to the horrors in his head.

My lamb and martyr…

"Vega!" she said. She was even closer now, but he was too far gone to answer her. He pushed himself against the wall, his spine aching from the pressure of being sandwiched against the wall.

…this will be over soon…

"Vega, answer me!" her voice sounded small in his head, overshadowed by all the other voices he could hear. He swallowed hard, as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He had to stop this. He was free of this. He was stronger than this. He covered his ears, closing his eyes tightly.

Go back to sleep…

"No!" Vega felt a hand touch his shoulder. Kill. He grabbed the frail wrist, twisting it mercilessly, before he realized that it was only Ororo, just Ororo. She took in a sharp breath that betrayed pain, and he released her wrist. "That was stupid of you to touch me. I could have killed you," he said. That was the only thing going through his mind when he felt her touch him.

"I am sorry, but I was concerned," she said. He sneered at her. Her concern nearly got her killed. If he hadn't snapped out of it, there's no telling what he would have done to her. "I did not know what was happening to you. You seemed to be going into some sort of panic attack."

Panic attack was putting it lightly. It was more like reliving a nightmare. "It's this room," was all he said before slowly standing up. He didn't move from his spot immediately.

He could make out her questioning expression in the dim light, as she sat down on one of the beds. "Vega, what are you doing? You're hurting yourself," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

He hadn't noticed that he was scratching his arms. Long, deep scratches that left thin lines of blood ran up and down his arms. Without thinking, he licked the wounds, tasting the tart tang of his blood. Ororo looked at him horrified. She had to understand. This was the only comfort he really had, and she would much rather it be his own blood than hers.

"He's watching. He is always watching." Vega said, ignoring her as his nails dug deeper into his skin.

"Who is he?" Ororo asked, but Vega wouldn't answer her. She would find out soon enough.

———

Ororo sat on the bed with her back against the wall. She feared that if she slept, Vega would go into a psychotic episode. He might hurt her, himself, or both of them in his rage. The throbbing of her wrist wouldn't let her forget that. Earlier, a plan of escape started formulating in her head, but she pushed that aside as she held watch.

Eventually, he had let her get close enough to him to pull his fingers away from his skin. He, wordlessly, let her clean the new wounds and check the old ones on his back while she prayed that he didn't snap completely. Then, as if resigned to some fate that only he knew, he finally went to bed and fell asleep.

What she saw earlier scared her. She watched him as he shoved himself against the wall and began pulling at his hair, covering his ears, scratching his skin, talking to himself… tasting his blood. She'd never seen him act like that, but she knew a battle with personal demons when she saw it. Vega had problems. He wouldn't deny that, but what he failed to see is how his problems shaped him more than he believed.

He was just one step ahead of total insanity. He had his problems, but she didn't believe he had completely lost it… yet. He believed he was strong, but his fragile psyche was on the brink of cracking. When that happened, if that happened, she feared that no one would ever be able to bring him back to any kind of normalcy.

And after what she witnessed, she realized that he had problems that were particularly deep-rooted, and this place was partly responsible. He hadn't told her much about that phase in his life when he was talking to her. He glossed over it and moved on, even though he said he'd spent a large portion of his life there.

Vega blamed the room for whatever happened to him earlier. What had happened in this room? She looked around the room. She didn't understand why they were put there, anyway. It wasn't luxury, but it was better than what they'd been forced to stay in. They even unbound them. He is always watching. A dark chill ran up her spine, and she rubbed her arms, warding away the goosebumps.

———

Author's Notes: Due to the long, rambling nature that my author's notes have started to take on, my author's notes can now be found on my livejournal "authorsnotes." The link has been provided in my profile. There you will find my author's notes for the chapter, which will mostly include tidbits you need to know, such as credits if I borrowed something, etc. Questions asked in reviews for previous chapters will be answered there, as well.