Description: Vega pays Freeman a visit in a Sunshine City warehouse. When his attempts to seduce Freeman to do his bidding fails, the Master of Shadaloo subjects him to the will and malice of Vega! In the end, Freeman kneels before the feet of the Master of Psycho Power as all creatures should!
Sunshine City has lost it's allure.
In the last couple weeks, the murderer known as Freeman has been in a slump. That 'feel' in the air, the almost magic, has almost completely disappeared. That nice Johann fellow had promised him quite an adventure, but in the end his chaotic presence was never that suspicious. Certainly aggravating, especially for the few fighters who fell under his bloodied fingers, but outside being more active then normal he has mostly fallen back into his old habits.
At the present, he is settled deep within the recesses of an abandoned industrial building. Only the most basic of things is here; a stray blanket and lump of something small for sleeping. There is also a worn CD player, taped together a few times. The earbuds are presently worn, and the static roar of heavy metal is rather indiscriminate even given his private surroundings.
His legs are crossed, back toward the room; settled facing the darkest corner, with a simple cardboard container of Fish and Chips in his lap. They are nibbled like a paranoid squirrel now and then. He keeps enough pocket change for meals, but beyond such has absolutely no interest in the pleasures of modern society.
It would take a prodigal sense of energy to find him, but knowing he was in Sunshine City makes such more then possible. For he is like a void in the flow of the world's natural energy; a black hole, a speck of abberation, something unnatural and monstrous...
There are but few beings in this world with such a prodigal sense for the energy flows of the world. Many of them possessing divine origins. But there is one man whose sense for the kind of energies Freeman exhudes is keenest of all. That powerful, almost overwhelming, energy of death, destruction, and chaos that the infamous serial killer leaves like giant footprints in the proverbial sands of humanity's psychic flows... it was sweeter and more alluring to the Lord and Master of Shadaloo than anything else. For these things... they were not only his pleasures... but so much more. They empowered him, and fed his already monumental power like nothing else. To be here, nearest that overwhelming aura of Freeman's was refreshing to say the least for the man who'd been isolated from such energies for so long.
From out of the darkness comes an echo, the voice behind it commanding... stern... sounding like the scraping of gravel agaainst gravel and darker than the depths of hell, "...Why do you sit here, in this darkness of this place... so isolated from the instruments of that beautiful music only a man of your talents can produce...". The voice is silent for a few moments more, and then... it gets louder... threatning to shake the very foundations of this abandoned warehouse... yet it lacks the physical presence to do so... "WHY do you waste away here when you are capable of SO much more..."
Then... from out of the darkness before Freeman, appears a man with a spectacular flash of deep purple energy. Arms crossed over his enormous chest, levitating in the air before Freeman just a foot from the ground, the man in the crimson military attire stares at the serial killer with irisless eyes ghastly white... "Why..." He finally speaks, with his own voice as opposed to the powerful telepathy he was employing before... "Do you not yet work for ME?" He goes silent then, giving Freeman a chance to respond... his face is expressionless but even were Freeman near complete insensitive to psychic energies... he might surely find kinship in the aura of death and destruction being exhuded by this man...
Freeman actually does not seem to react to the sudden presence. He is in the midst of a meal, and due to the nature of his polluting chi, has little basic capability to sense even the likes of Vega; a man who could not hope to condense his essence in a room such as this. But his head lifts just prior to the words being spoken, finger hooking the frayed cord of an ear bud and plucking it out in the midst of the statement. Metallica can be heard, at maximum volume and poor quality.
Freeman's face turns as the crash of psionic energy roars through his room; his crimson dyed hair swirling around his face and head a moment. One eye is visible, but it is looking at Vega with... keen interest. There is no ounce of fear here. No sense of self preservation. It is not a matter of discipline... they are simply gone. As a matter of fact, Freeman might be the most naturally devoid mind he has ever been around.
Trying to peer into him is like staring at a great black abyss, even for someone like Vega. He is tapped into a great source of energy, one that suffuses his form. Nobody in the world could understand that trait better then the Shadaloo head, although to find someone who achieved what his great reactors manage naturally is likely an interesting phenomenon. Were Freeman a more capable host, he might be a terror to the highest reaches of the world...
It is a strange Ying and Yang. The gargantuan pool of death draws all in, while the suffocating presence of Vega exudes out.
"Potential...? I do not care about such things." he finally offers, voice smooth and even. "I get by instead..." He slowly bites into the deep fried fish with a momentary look of pleasure. "...on the brief, occasional pleasures..."
Vega would be quite privvy to many of these things, including the serial killers lack of fear. But, he knew all too well with whom he was dealing. His interest in Freeman were not a momentary whim! No, few things with Vega ever were... he'd had Shadaloo intelligence gathering everything they could on what he considered to be one of the most important men in existence for him right now. The Lord of Shadaloo did not deign to appear to /just/ anyone... especially at this time.
The depth of the darkness within Freeman's 'soul', which was plainly visible to him now, brought a creeping grin into the dictator's features. He was, truly, death incarnate. How wonderful!r
It would also be no surprise to someone like Vega that Freeman cared little for potential... only for the short-term thrills wrought by his actions. He was far too primal for that. No, these were merely echoes of Vega's own preoccupations... "Of course." The master of Shadaloo deigns to descend upon the unworthy earth beneath his feet then, booted feet making a scraping sound against it as he repositions his feet beneath him for balance. He then flings that dark cloak from his left arm, raising the hand of said arm and making a sweeping gesture with it... "But why... do you languish here? There is so much pleasure to be had. And in this world there are countless persons worthy of being bestowed with your gifts..." His left hand tightens into a fist before Freeman then... trembling... "... so many who deserve death, so many who should share in the wonderous thing you have come to know..."
The hand drops, slowly, then... returning to his side. "Yet you would deprive them of it... and deprive yourself as well. Such a piteous waste." He shakes his head slightly, almost seeming as if he actually /cared/ for such things... "... I can provide you with with what is it that you long for. I know well of the broken promise you were very recently handed, but I assure you... this one is anything but: I can give you the means to spread your gift throughout the entire world. No longer will a man of your talents be restricted to this infernally boring rats nest... you can sow the seeds of death and chaos throughout a field far greater than you could ever imagine."
Throughout Vega's sweeping declaration, Freeman watches quietly while continuing to munch on his food. Steak fries disappear into his nibbling maw little by little. The remnants of his deep fried fish eventually vanish. And he is slowly lapping his fingers at the conclusion. Vega is one of the most powerfully charismatic men in the world. It is not the definition most would write to it; but more a suffocating will that people cannot help to react to. Either staunchy opposed with all one's will, or sucked within like a vortex, lost to the Shadaloo dictator. Freeman, once again, defies most standard by appearing essentially unmoved.
"Once again... you speak of wasted potential. What makes you think I have some... message to give?" His empty cardboard container, striped in red and white, is discarded before he slowly stands. A slow, unnatural movement before he turns to face Vega directly. Fingers brush over his face, interlocking with his looming bangs. His own hand is trembling now, with just a ghost of a grin. He is feeding on that energy. A wash of death from a momentary focus goes over him. It might be just as delicious to Vega. But it is pure; free of emotion. The essence of violence and destruction, untainted by anything worldly.
"People are my toys. I use them for pleasure. Who it is... where I am... when it is... those do not matter. Only those 'little moments' of ecstacy!!" He then lifts a hand and points a finger almost accusingly towards Vega. "Can you give me that...?"
This might at first seem to be a sarcastic or dismissive remark. But it is not. Freeman is not a fool. Simply because he is broken and psychotic does not unmake his prodigal form, withered and basic as it is. Vega, like Johann, feels very much like a kindred spirit. But the Black Dragon host was different -- he /did not understand./ Might this man, the latest in a half dozen who tried to reign in the destructive, unique powers of the serial killer who has yet to even be defeated in his latest return, scarring the life of fighters from Ayame to Whip, in Sunshine and Beyond, fully manage to bring him under his wing...?
The Lord of Shadaloo is wont to simply stand there, taking in the responses or lack of them from Freeman... both mental and physical. Though his face has returned to the previously emotionless mask he donned upon his arrival, ghastly white eyes locked upon Freeman's features as he devours his dinner, in his mind he is analyzing the man and comparing the reality with the data. He could feel the raw, unfettered, primality being exhuded from him... that enormous and chaotic aura of death washing over him as surely as his own dark and twisted aura threatened to swallow it whole. Yet swallow it, it did not. He could feel the energy exchanged between himself and Freeman energizing him... and it pleased him greatly. The question, in his mind, was not whether Freeman would be taken under his wing... but when and how.
"I am merely suggesting it is a waste that you do not." That gravely, dark, voice comes again in response to Freeman's questioning him about whether he thought he had a message to deliver. "That you should be here.. in this dark, filthy, little hovel and not bringing death and destruction to the world as only you are able is... I believe a sin." An odd thing, this man... speaking about sins. "I wish to enable you." That ear-to-ear grin of pearly white perfection creeps its way into his features again. "/I/ understand these urges better than anyone else on this planet! It is my most my most consuming hobby... to envelope this world in complete and utter death and detruction! To bring sorrow and torment to all who would dare to live... to hear their cries of terror before I sacrifice them like a lamb on the altar of my ambitions!" Simple, and straight forward. "My reach is farther than any other... my resources are boundless..." But none of this concerns Freeman, of course... THAT he is getting to... "...And what all of this means to you: you can have all of the 'toys' your heart desires. The pleasure you shall have will be endless. Never will you know again this infernal, lonely, darkness devoid of what it is that you desire. Fulfillment will always be within arms reach." The left hand that he'd dropped aerlier again rises, finger jabbing at the empty air... pointed directly at the serial killer across from him. "..And all you must do for me, is to bring that beautiful song as only you can for my enemies."
"You are entitled to your opinion." Freeman states, with a sort of exasperated air. Not many people could dare to hold such a tone with Vega in this world, especially with a genuinely flippant attitude; someone who is not treating him like the ungodly monster and demigod he is, but just another individual who has crept into his den. Oh, there is no question he could be violently snuffed out like a flickering candle by Vega with no effort -- but ultimately, that would only please him the most. Cast him into the whirling storm of energy he lives a ghost of a life in.
"Sin." Freeman states, and actually seems intrigued by the concept. "To sin... is to do something... morally unacceptable? Do things like us have those?" Vega has at least engaged the full perception of the serial killer. It feels like a dense shadow; a gaze he can easily repel and be unaffected by, but only underlining the massive and mostly unusable power lurking behind his empty, dark eyes. He was politely ignoring most of the claims that Vega had, but at the end, he blinks.
"It is not as if I am merciful... but my muse is fleeting. I cannot simply... do it when I desire." Freeman tries to explain, something he has never before bothered even when asked by those who likely cared a good deal more then Vega. "It is as empty and pointless as stepping on a bug... if I am not..." His tongue slowly draws along his lips. "...feeling the echo of the void." A sort of carefree shrug follows, nearly apologetic. "And so... I suppose you could tell me of some interesting people... I might get around to it..."
This is more cooperation then he's given anyone before, but it is almost insulting. Vega? Accomodating his impulses? Inexcuseable. But the key is finally there. A key that Vega could turn. The issue is his difficulty in attuning with the energy he has. Something Vega could grant... or even, if he wished it, impose on him. It would not be hard for his psionic power to forcedly open the gate of Freeman's soul...!!
Vega notices the listless manner in which the serial murderer responds. His sheer impassiveness. It was not the all-consuming enthusiasm he had so relished when he watched the tapes of some of Freeman's escapades... it was not at all what the data reflected, and certainly NOT what he had in mind. This did not please the Lord and Master of Shadaloo at all. And what did not please him, was either rectified or burned like so much rubbish in the fires of his pscho-powered fury... destroyed utterly and cast aside as though it were nothing. But he was not yet ready to do that...
A displeased frown mars Vega's prior emotionless mask. "Sin: a transgression against the law of god." Vega utters, sounding as though he were reading Freeman a line from the dictionary... "...And the god which you follow, know it or not, is of the most purest darkness. It is anathema. The countless, insignificant, peons who dwell upon this planet fear it... for it is the end of their existence." His left hand begins to glow subtlely, encased in an aura of deep violet hue... "...I am the living embodiment of it. And you WILL answer my calling..." He then proceeds to plod foward, slowly toward the serial killer, ghastly white eyes fixed upon his face. "...If it is encouragement you require, if it is the darkness within your soul which yearns for release... I will give this to you. Here and NOW!"
Beyond this point, Vega does not deign to engage him pointless banter or talk of personal philosophy any longer. There is only so much of pandering to the whims of another he will stand for. He will attempt to seize upon Freeman with that hand, alight with the flames of psycho power, even if it means he backs him into corner... or the murderer attempts to assail him. Should the murderer assail him, it will make it all the easier... for an unconscious man is far easier to manipulate. "Come to me... and drink of the purest darkness! Let it fill the void of your soul... and be consumed by it... consumed by ME!"
Indeed, Freeman's fights are generally him fulfilling his impulses. He is a sleeping monster between those periods of brutal activity. Vega came upon his dormancy, the one thing that he had no data on, and to find it disappointing is likely an understatement. The absolute embodiment of wasted potential, indeed... choosing not to use his strength simply because he gains no pleasure from it.
"..." Freeman actually pauses at Vega's explanation. It is a concept that was never introduced to him before, and given his general lack of philosophical self reflection, unsurprisingly one that never surfaced either. This makes what comes next all the more sublime!!
The maneuver forward catches Freeman in the midst of his vulnerability. He takes a step backwards, grunting as that iron vice clasps on. Fingers flex and grasp the armored forearm, a nearly invisible sheen of chi coating his fingers in preparation to slice.
And then he spasms. Eyes are wide before rolling up and white, arching in a helpless manner before a series of twitches go through him. A single tendril of clear drool runs down his cheek. There's no need to keep hold of him. When dropped, he would slump to his knees and then his face impacts the ground at Vega's feet; kneeling, as all living creatures should. He had never felt the purity of his essence so... fully. So openly.
Trembling hands grasp Vega's booted foot, plaintively. "More..." he hisses out, almost disgustingly lustful. "Give me... more...!!"
The collar upon Vega's beast has been placed.
As he places a massive hand upon Freeman's shoulder, powerful fingers grasping at his flesh like an steel trap and forcing him to /be still/ and be subjected to the will of Vega... his dark power begins to flow from his body into the serial killer's like a flood. It is a power purer than flawless crystal and darker than the blackest abyss. As his body is consumed by the raging flames of violet psycho power, for but a moment, Freeman woud get to experience the unequaled malice of Vega. Thoughts and feelings of pure pleasure derived from the death and torment of countless lives would flood his mind... the sheer exctasy of watching men die beneath the crushing weight of his heel... the wanton lust for power and self-satisfaction sated only by the destruction of all who dared to oppose him. As Freeman weakly attempts to grasp at his armored forearm, hand beginnning to glow threateningly with that wretched power, his psycho power makes him very aware of it. As anyone versed in the knowledge of psycho power would know, Chi and Psycho Power simply did not mix. It was this vile contamination of his aura which drew his ghastly stare... and prompted him to drop Freeman to the floor. Or allow him to fall, whichever it was.
As Freeman falls to his knees at Vega's feet, almost as if to acknowledge his place... Vega crosses his arms again... that twisted ear-to-grin spreading wildly across his face once more. "If it is more you wish for, you have but to do exactly as I command. Do this simple task... and I assure you... you will never yearn for release ever again..."
Log created on 17:15:42 07/30/2012 by Vega, and last modified on 04:58:53 07/31/2012.