Description: As teams assemble, Vega, Lord of Shadaloo confronts his 'teammate', Vice. One-half of the combination of doom that is 'R's.
Strolheim. At this particular moment, it was desperately cold in the area. Not quite snowing yet, but the heavy rainclouds hanging above the place seemed to be threatening that very thing. And, so... most of the visitors to the place were wearing protection against the cold in various forms. But that was outside; inside the various buildings were another matter, a lot kept warm by quaint little wood-burning stoves. Krauser, at least one would imagine, was providing housing for the various teams to visit Strolheim. Vice, however, was choosing a different place to stay.
Where she stayed was not warmed by quaint little stoves, but modern heating technology, choosing to stay in one of the many posh hotels around the airport, the heater turned up a bit higher than normal. And where was Vice at the moment? Seated cross-legged atop one of the beds, 'arranging' her luggage. Having insisted on a room with a second bed, believing, perhaps, that in spite of whatever business seperated the two, that she would come to Strolheim anyways, Vice was in the process of doing two things: murmuring to herself, as well as tossing various clothing over atop the other bed haphazardly. A piece of the crimson and black dress suit she wore went in one pile. Anything else, went in another pile. She was wearing one copy of her usual red and black getup, sans jewelry, at least for now. Oop. A glitter of light shows that she had just found a pair of golden earrings, and starts a new pile, tossing that over her shoulder to land upon the bed she was on.
Most places would be insane for allowing Vega, Lord of Shadaloo entry. Admittedly, he offers them the plausible deniability of 'He made me do it, or I would get killed', which makes it easier for him to move about and around. Krausers' generosity allows him the ability to find his way to the temporary housing that keeps the other fighters held in. The thought of sending commandos or a bomb or two, and declaring himself 'victor' in the rubble passed his mind, but was quickly given up. Instead, he offers to play the game that Krauser offers, to achieve through at least some mild adherence to 'rules'.
He's found the room that his 'student' is in, and he stands outside the door. His hand comes up, and strikes the door, a precise few times. Three knocks, no more. He folds his hands against his chest, and glowers. His height is enough to block out most of the door, and the unpleased expression on his face is certainly not much of a 'welcoming' one.
Vice stirs. In spite of her task at the moment, her expression held a faraway quality to it, with unfocused eyes staring into nothing as she brings a bit of clothing up before her face, before tossing it towards the appropriate pile. The knock, however, brings her out of her fugue, each sharp rap drawing her closer and closer to the present. With each knock, she straightens some, a little bit more focus coming to her eyes. Some small portion of her mind suspected, or hoped, rather, that the visitor in question was Mature. Who else, after all, would have reason to track her down?
Stepping up off of the bed, the Orochi stalks around the furniture and piles of clothing, making her way to the door. Without checking through the little peephole first, Vice twists the doorknob, and throws it open with a bang. The disappointment on her face was obvious. So was the skittering step backwards that the woman takes, eyes widening some at the imposing figure at the door. Giving her head a flick, however, she lifts her chin to stare right up at the man's face, even as her own expression goes from disappointed, to unpleased. "What do you want?" she bites out, her tone edged with aggression.
"You." Vega's answer is simple. Fingers slip up, pushing his cap from his head and flicking through dark hair. His eyes, pure white, stare at Vice as he steps into the actual doorframe. All the better to keep her from trying to slam it shut in his face, don't you know. His frown lightens a bit - unnerving people is always a good thing - and the attempt at coming back with fuss and muss, to try to show a hint of strength? Oh, that warms the dark area of his heart.
"I've been informed that we'll be working together, going forward in the tournament. I suppose this means I should actually see if you still can fight or not." His smirk grows wider, and then he glances into the room, unknowingly, possibly poking at other buttons on the Vice-O-Meter. "Hnn. Admittedly, I was surprised - I thought your other half would be here, or Rugal himself, to team with you. Freelancing?"
Well, Vice wasn't a tremendously private person. The glances inside of her hotel room did little to incite her. What did, however, tick her off, was the mention of Mature missing at the moment. A rather vicious little snarl touches her lips, her eyes narrowing rather dangerously with that. She had not bothered with makeup, intending to collapse upon the bed after her luggage was sorted into piles. "You must be Vega." Vice snaps, her voice even louder angrier from her introduction of before. Caught with the sudden and rather random desire to break Vega's fingers, her eyes flicker down to the man's hand. Just for a moment, before her gaze raises back up to his face. In spite of the smile, yes, he was still imposing.
Like a trapped animal with nowhere to run, however, Vice may take a slinking step backwards, but every nuance to her demeanor exuded aggression. One of Vice's problems here, was that while a file upon Vega, and what little bits of information Rugal wanted her to find out about him, was tucked at the bottom of her suitcase, Vice hardly ever bothered to read the things. That's why she had Mature, after all. So, she was likely one of the few people in the world that had very little idea who Vega was, precisely.
"Where the others are is none of your /damned/ business." she says, nearly spitting those words out. "And if you want to know if I can fight..." Vice says, pausing as her mind rolls with trying to find an intimidating way to follow that up. "I could break all of /your/ bones, and wouldn't that answer that question?"
[OOC] Vega says, "Do you really wanna fight?"
[OOC] Vega knows that won't finish today, but is fine with it. XD
[OOC] Vice says, "Well, Vice is just being aggressive, more than wanting to fight. However, it wouldn't take too much to push her that direction! XD It might be necessary to beat her up. Multiple times."
[OOC] Vega gotcha.
"You don't remember me? I'm hurt." Vega's not actually hurt - he knows that since his ressurection, he looks at least mildly different. The chin is still there, though - and the bright red dictator's outfit certainly is unique. Assuming it's just a ploy to get beneath his skin, he sloughs it aside. "That's 'Lord Vega', though perhaps I'll make an exception for your spirit." the spirit of a rabig, trapped dog. Such a fun sight for Vega to see.
"I suppose you're right. If they've kicked you to the side, and moved on without you, it's none of my concern. As long as you can fight /here/ and win, I don't care about what your personal life entails." Callously said, he dismisses it with a wave of his hand, uncaring. "And if you truly think you can back up your threats, /girl/ - please, by all means do. Otherwise, I'd suggest learning to keep your mouth shut. Mature isn't here to protect you from yourself and your idiocy." With that, those white eyes tinge towards purple and black, a slight hint of Vega's power being let out from behind its' cage.
Ah, the chin. Certainly, his appearance was tugging at her memory, but the furrowed brow and confused look betrayed a little bit of her lack of solid memory. She beat up, and got beat up, by so many people over the years. They tended to all blur together after a while. "Should I?" comes Vice's quick answer, snapped out quite quickly after the first thing he says. Bringing up a sleeve, she wipes it across her lips, regaining her composure somewhat. Backed into a room with no way to escape was making her edgy, and an edgy Vice was certainly an unhappy one.
Another few beats, and that sleeve drops away from her face, showing her frown. Her brow was furrowed, certainly, and her expression decidedly unhappy still. Unable to help the hunch that slips into her back, she brings up her hands before herself, fingers working, curling and uncurling into fists rather rapidly. "Psh! I do not call anyone 'Lord'. And you are not the lord of me, teammate or no." she says, skirting the issue of backing up her threats to draw a proverbial line in the sand.
And in the end, the refusal to strike was knowledge enough. Vega's smile grows less dangerous, and more condescending. He lowers his own formality a bit, and then simply leans against the doorframe, casual as a crazed megalomaniac dictator can be. "Very well. I suppose an exception will be made, then - after all, I certainly can't claim your devotion and duty - Rugal would be very cross indeed." Not that he'd truly worry about /that/, but he'll at least use it as an excuse to suss out if the girl still works for him. It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to get data from or about him - and the difference would be how much he allowed to show.
However, there's still the pondering thought. His narrowed, amused eyes watch Vice pace back and forth, that nervous energy so familiar to him - he'd felt it himself, when facing someone he truly did not know if he could strike down. The 'understanding' is twisted though, the lack of compassion making him twist the knife all the more. "As for breaking my bones.." he says, referring back to the threat that was left unbacked, "Why did you enter this tournament? To find new ways to die? There are some here that would just as easily kill you as speak with you."
In the end, the reason why Vice did a lot of anything in the world? Because Rugal/Mature told her so. The other primary reason was, 'because she wanted to at the time'. This one, however, fell in the first catergory. The casualness doesn't quite seem to calm Vice much. If anything, it causes her to grow more thoughtful and nervous. If ~she~ was in a position of power over someone, she would certainly beat them up a few times, just to drive the point of who was in charge home. That management style seemed to work well for her at 'R'. Frowning more severely, now, Vice rolls her shoulders in a shrug.
"What does it matter what he thinks?" she says, fingers still working as she rocks back and forth, back curved forward. That may be enough of an acknowledgement to Rugal's hand in the matter, perhaps. "And why did /you/ enter?" she says, a sharp spike of aggression lacing those words, making it sound more like a demand. "I'm not afraid of any of them. Ryu, Cody... they all snap as easily as other men and women." Vice says, her tone calming down some, although the wild look in her eyes remains.
[OOC] Vega says, "Gotta grab lunch, bbiab."
[OOC] Vice says, "Not a problem."
[OOC] Vega returns. z_z foodcoma
[OOC] Vice offers mint?
[OOC] Vega awm nom.
[OOC] Vice has about a half-hour left to her name.
"Strong words from a brutaly efficent woman. I look forwards to seeing you display that prowess in battle." He means it, too - for what it's worth, if he's going to be doing something, he'll damn well excel at it - and woe betide those that dissapoint him. "My answers are rather simple, Vice. I entered to win. A challenge to display my prowess to the world? I /live/ to prove this to others." He grins indolently, then stands back up and takes a half-step back, cedeing the room back to her.
"When the time comes, I'll be as effective a teammate as any you've known. I expect nothing less from you. Insult away, if it makes you feel better - but /do not cross me/. I suffer fools only slightly - and I will feel no compunction at all in finishing this tournament alone." With that, he turns his back on her, obviously done speaking. Threatening. Whatever it is he's doing.
Feeling a bit emboldened by the sight of the man's back, Vice lifts her chin somewhat, gritting her teeth together as she narrows her eyes once again. Straightening her back, she takes a deep breath, before calling out, "Hmph. So long as you keep up your part, I will keep up mine." she says, biting those words out. Drawing up her sleeve to wipe across her lips again, her body quivers with a restrained cough. When she speaks again, it is a little hoarsely.
Pride, at least, was something she understood. Although, technically... Vice probably understood a lot of how Vega thought, and acted. If she ever paused a moment to consider such things, she might make that connection. Another few beats, a bit of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she turns her face downwards, glancing dangerously out of the tops of her eyes towards Vega. Feeling as though she ought to threaten more, she instead chooses not to, instead taking a few stalking steps towards the door herself.
[OOC] Vega says, "Good enough!"
[OOC] Vice totally slams the door after he scoots out.
[OOC] Vega haha
[OOC] Vega says, "That good enough for you for now?"
[OOC] Vice says, "/Now/ that's good enough for me."
[OOC] Vega haha.
Log created on 12:52:02 10/29/2008 by Vega, and last modified on 20:30:32 11/02/2008.