Hello, again. I know I've been kind of spamming this subforum with stuff, I am currently writing a story about how Bison recruited Balrog, Vega and Sagat into Shadaloo.
Here's what I have so far. Any critiques?
Damn! I had him back there. I was even going to be merciful to him. How did he manage to defeat me like this?!
His breathing haggard, Sagat struggled to move his tall frame out of the spartan bed, still feeling a searing pain on his chest. The room he was placed in was a very utilitarian in design, nothing ornate. He removed the bandages, slowly revealing an enormous jagged scar. Feeling disgusted, he punched the wall next to the mirror, causing cracks to form.
He heard a low chuckle from behind.
“Who’s there?” Sagat asked as he turned around to face the intruder.
A man clad in a red military uniform stood in his presence, smiling evilly. His outfit was reminiscent of a Nazi soldier. A skull insignia with wings adorned his cap with a lightning bolt was on his belt buckle, along with metal pauldrons on his shoulders and shin guards. His eyes were the most unsettling aspect about him; they had no pupils, making him seem inhuman.
“What do you want?”
“Now now, Sagat, don’t behave like that,” the man in red answered. “I understand that you wanted revenge on someone who has bested you, correct?”
Sagat paused for a few seconds. “How did you know…?”
“Simple. When I was watching your fight, I saw that gleam in your eye. You want to reclaim your glory, don’t you?”
The Thai fighter took his time to think about the mysterious man’s offer. Normally, he would not trust someone like him, but at this point, he wanted to have a rematch against the young man who defeated him in the tournament.
“I need you to become my bodyguard and right-hand man,” the stranger said. “A man of your talent and prowess would find his place within my organization.”
“What is the name of this organization?”
The day after the meeting with Bison, Sagat trained strenuously in his usual spot. Reviewing the techniques he already knew and pushing himself to his limits, He was determined to get stronger in order to have his rematch with Ryu. He also hoped his rival would not have the dark power bestowed to him once again, as he wanted a fair fight.
Deep within the underground compound of Shadaloo, Bison observed his operations via satellite. Currently, Shadaloo is in development of another laboratory that is not too far from their main headquarters. Various drug operations were underway as well, most notably in Brazil, China and Russia. They were mostly needed to fund their research and development department, who were feverishly working on the Doll Program. Despite the fact that the Master was powerful, he was in dire need of a replacement body if he were to die under certain circumstances. This particular project was still in its infancy, as the scientists were being particularly careful with it. Bison would not be pleased if it turns out to be a complete failure.
Barcelona, Spain – Alejandro Torres, aged 50, was found dead. His corpse has floated into one of the beaches. He had massive gashes in his throat, along with broken ribs and torn tendons in his legs and arms. The police were unable to track down the perpetrator, as there were no additional clues that were found at the scene of the crime. The investigation still remains underway as they continue to search for other evidence regarding the identity of the killer.
Torres was a moderately successful businessman from Madrid who was married into a prestigious Catalonian noble family. The family’s status dwindled after the death of Juan de la Costa, the patriarch of the household and the nation’s greatest bullfighter. The only surviving member of the family, Alanzo Vega de la Costa, remains nowhere to be found.
Elsewhere in the province of Catalonia, a secluded mansion by the coast looms over the land. Guarded by a tall iron fence, the property has three floors, a basement and a large garden. The interior has eighteenth-century décor, with suits of armor lining some of the hallways. The master bedroom was rather spacious, with a large bed and a desk. To the easternmost point of the room was a mirror, and the man standing in front of it is perhaps the world’s biggest narcissist.
The tall, lean-muscular Spaniard was admiring himself like he always did. He still tasted the blood of his previous opponent, but that was not enough for him. He needed more of that sweet crimson nectar, as it was his addiction. He fantasized about creating a mountain of corpses, bathing in their blood like Elizabeth Bathory. Vega licked his lips at the thought, eager to savor more of that red tangy liquid he constantly craved.
Slowly removing his white porcelain mask, he found himself staring at the most beautiful thing to ever exist: himself. Women desired him, men wanted to be him. He loved seeing his physique in the mirror, but more importantly, his own face was his best feature.
As he stood there admiring his own beauty, he remembered his mother’s words coming back to him. “My beautiful boy…you will grow to be like your father one day.” The Spaniard tried to keep those memories at bay, but with little to no success. He felt a sense of frustration building up. Her face kept appearing in his mind, causing him to feel cold sweat running down his forehead.
He then remembered the night that bastard has taken him mother’s life. In a fit of rage, he shattered the mirror with his fist, scattering glass shards all over the floor. Seething with anger, he was ready to kill anyone who came near him. His chest was heaving as he was breathing.
“Calm down, Vega,” a voice spoke from behind. “That look doesn’t suit you.”
“Who are you?!” he hissed as he faced the intruder.
“I am a man who can offer you something truly glorious.”
“How did you get in here?!”
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
Vega didn’t like how this man could simply walk into his mansion despite taking all the measures to prevent other people from getting in.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I simply wanted to talk to you.”
“Talk to me about what?!”
“I have seen you fight in the cage and in the bullring,” the stranger replied. “There is a certain grace and beauty to your killing methods.”
Vega calmed down a bit, lowering his claw. He didn’t mind the compliment. In fact, it made his anger dissipate a little.
“I would need someone as ruthless as you within my organization. You would make a fine assassin.”
As soon as Vega heard those words, he was delighted to have the opportunity to slaughter more of his victims and hear their bloodcurdling screams. He will soon fulfill his goal of eliminating all the ugly things that plagued this world.
Once again, he was lulled into his fantasy of bloodshed. He imagined himself triumphant over the corpses of his foes while their blood spilled into a massive pool. All for him to drink and bathe in, for it will preserve his beauty, making him a god among men.
“Señor? Is everything alright?”
Feeling irritated about his fantasy being interrupted, Vega turned to the doorway to face his doe-eyed servant.
“I am perfectly fine, thank you.” he answered, attempting to conceal his annoyance.
“Is there anything that I could bring for you? Perhaps some herbal tea?”
“That would be satisfactory. Now get me one.”
On the television set, a news program came onto the screen. The anchorman was a middle-aged fellow with graying hair.
“We have some breaking news tonight,” he announced in a dry tone. “We have recently received a report about the disqualification about the heavyweight boxing champion Michael Sterling, or as he is dubbed by his opponents, “Balrog”. He reputedly killed the challenger Floyd Henderson in the ring by headbutting him. Prior to this illegal move, he also bit off his opponent’s ear. We also have an exclusive interview with his mother. Sherry?”
A young, dark-haired news reporter appeared on the screen. “Thank you, James. I am here with Mrs. Sterling at the moment.” Standing next to her was an elderly black woman, who was about to burst into tears at any given moment.
“My son was such a good boy,” she spoke as she tried to keep herself together. “We did everything we could to help him with his education and his boxing career. He managed to help us with getting out of the ghetto…yet he turned into this.”
As she went on, tears slowly fell down her face.
“Where did we go wrong? How did our sweet little boy become such a violent brute?”
Standing next to her was her husband, who was equally distraught. “Our son has become a fine fighter in the boxing ring, and contributed so much to us. He was also such a good role model to aspiring boxers everywhere.” He then turned away from the camera, his face downcast. “…Why did he turn out this way?”
Somewhere in a makeshift gym, the disgraced boxer known as Michael “Balrog” Sterling was punching a heavy bag that hung from the ceiling. After a few jabs and uppercuts, the bag eventually gave way, causing sand to spill all over the floor.
Damn, he thought to himself. The chumps I fought in the alleyway weren’t that much better.
Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door. Upon opening it, he found two men in suits standing in front of him.
“The hell do you guys want?”
“We came here on behalf of our leader. He is searching for men like you.”
“We will tell you shortly.”
Balrog didn’t trust them at all. He was lead to a warehouse on the outskirts of Las Vegas, far from the glitz and glamour of the casinos. As soon as they stepped inside, the door behind them shut. It was dimly lit and dusty on the inside. The warehouse was mostly empty save for a few rafters and some chairs in the northeast corner. A figure clad in red was waiting for Balrog and the suited men to come to him.
“Sit down, Balrog,” the man said as he gestured to a chair in front of the desk where he was seated. The boxer took a seat and faced the mysterious stranger. He was somewhat unsettled by those stark white pupils as they bore into his own.
“Now, where shall we begin…” the man pondered for a moment. “Ah, yes. I have seen your fights in the boxing ring. I was particularly enthused by your brutality. I can see why you earned your nickname.”
“So why did you tell me to come here?”
“Because I wanted a more private venue to converse with you. I am looking for an enforcer to help with my organization. From what I have seen, you will be suitable for that role.”
Balrog had a sinking feeling in his gut. He did not trust this man, as he felt that evil aura emanating from him. Something about him was utterly inhuman and otherworldly.
“I ain’t joining you.”
The man in red expressed his displeasure at the boxer’s stubbornness. Suddenly, his face turned into a toothy grin.
“What about your dear parents?”
That caught Balrog off-guard. He once helped to get his parents out of poverty, which was not an easy situation. He did not want to return to that state again.
“What about ‘em?” he asked.
“You want to keep them out of the ghetto, don’t you?”
Balrog remembered hearing his mother weep in that interview on the screen. Her distress caused him to feel guilty, as she saw what has become of him. As he was pummeled multiple times in the head, something inside of him changed.
“Well, Balrog?” the man asked. “Have you changed your mind?”
Balrog felt that he had no choice in this matter. It was either work for this man and stay afloat in terms of finances and helping his family, or return to the impoverished life he once lived.
“I’ll do it,” he reluctantly answered. “I’ll become your enforcer.”
“Good. That’s the answer I wanted to hear.”
After his formal introductions to his teammates, Balrog headed towards his private quarters within the Shadaloo base. He heard a noise behind him, causing him to turn around. No one was there, so he shrugged and continued on his way to his destination. Another wooshing noise.
Balrog looked up. Vega was there on the rafters, staring at him.
“Why the hell are you following me?” the boxer asked.
“I was observing you. I find your mannerisms sickening.” The vain Spaniard replied. Even though his voice was muffled by the mask, Balrog could hear the condescending tone.
“Why should you care? Mind your own damn business, pretty boy.”
“I was simply wondering what kind of “teammate” I would have for certain missions. It seems that I would prefer doing them myself.”
This man started to annoy Balrog. He reminded him of that idiot in the ring – Floyd Henderson - who was so damned cocky and full of himself. Thankfully, he got what he deserved. Now, if only he could take it out on this masked asshole who was mocking him.
“I honestly don’t know what Bison was thinking,” Vega muttered to himself. “What an utter fool he is for forcing me to work with this brute.” He soon left the premises, leaving Balrog in peace.
Ultra Street Fighter IV: Vega, Blanka, Decapre
Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom 3: Dante, Zero, Wolverine