Description: The Black Dragon, Kira Volkov suddenly finds her mercenary group's home base is no longer as secret or secure as she'd imagined as she received the honor of being visited by Lord Vega himself with an offer she can't refuse. An offer that holds repercussions for the whole world and beyond.
The first thing that Kira noticed as the faint touch of consciousness began to replace the fleeing dregs of hard sleep was the intense pounding in her head. Tribal wardrums thundered with staggering intensity within the confines of her skull sending tremors through her mind that felt like the epicenter of a herd of stampeding elephants who had been trained to goosestep rather than shuffle along.
Something cold and smooth slipped out her hand as she lifted it up to squeeze her face in the vain hope of smothering the hideous thumping into a dull roar. It landed with a sharp clink on the wooden floor but the noise hardly registered amid the chaos rampaging freely through her senses. With considerable effort she forced one eye open and glanced around taking in the blurry but familiar surroundings.
She was in the rec-room. A clock sat on the wall directly ahead of her telling her that it was sometime in the morning, around nine-o'clock. Other than a few of the personal quarters of the higher ranked soldiers within her employ, this was one of the only places in the entire complex that sported much in the way of decoration. Instead of the drag and practical grays of concrete and metal broken up only by the occasional door or overhead light the rec-room was a mixture of warm colors and elegant furnishings. Sofas and chairs of plush velvet and leather filled one side of the massive hall clustered into small groups around the latest televisions and home entertainment systems. The center was dominated by fancy tables of hardwood providing excellent seating for card games, dining, or impromptu meetings. The last third of the room was filled to the brim with games. Old arcade machines towered in neat rows against the walls, the sound of out-dated music creating a jumble of constant background noise in the distance. Several pool and ping-pong tables took up the center of the space covered with scuff marks and scattered balls that indicated signs of recent use.
The back wall of the room was dominated entirely by a massive bar. Comfortable stools offered enough seating for a veritable army and there were enough bottles liquour lined up on the polished wooden shelves to give the entirity of said army alcohol poisoning. Another sharp pain ran through Kira's head and she gave the cheerfully colored labels on the booze an accusatory glare before leaning back to close her eyes again. No one seemed to be here at the moment which was just fine for her.
Several centuries passed before the intense throbbing began to subside but when she fluttered her eyes open again the clock indicated that it had only been about twenty minutes. Stupid clock. With an irritated growl, Kira pushed to her feet sliding forward like some sort of jello-mold rather than hopping up like she had intended. A blanket fell away from her as she did so, the cloth pooling at her feet. Zhenya had probably been responsible for that, bless her twisted soul. A sudden chill accompanied the loss of the warm covering and Kira glanced down to see that she was wearing nothing but an unbuttoned shirt and her undergarments. She grinned, ignoring the surge of pain that accompanied it. Zhenya was probably responsible for that too.
A quick check showed that the object she had dropped earlier was a bottle of vodka. It was empty save for a small measure of clear liquid that had managed to escape her the previous night. She reached down and rectified that. The sharp burning sensation in her throat was much more pleasant than the hangover and she focused on enjoying the brief few moments of blissful tingling before it was gone.
A casual toss sent the now completely empty bottle sailing towards a nearby trash recepticle. It missed, hit the wall behind, and shattered noisly. Kira didn't even bother looking back. Someone would come and clean it up eventually. Instead, she wandered over to the bar and fetched a glass, fresh bottle, and a pack of cigarettes from behind the counter - the breakfast of champions. With her nourishment arranged, the mercenary went back to fetch a small PDA from the pile of her clothes that were haphazardly scattered around the chair and then flopped down on the first stool that she encountered. A few disdainful taps with her fingers brought the device to life and she set about going through the daily chore of checking through all of the current contracts and any offers that might have come through while she was asleep. Then there was the matter of ensuring that her underlings were being properly taken care of with paychecks being sent to private banks in neutral countries or secretly funneled to families back home. Death benefits to be paid out to those who had lost their lives in the line of duty. Releases to be authorized for extra expenses. Loans to be approved to local scumbags or up-right citizens down on their luck. Termination orders to be issued on those who had exceeded their deadlines.
Sigh. The life of a mercenary: guns, girls, and paperwork.
Everyone has experienced those moments in life when they were alone. It starts with a prickle at the back of the neck, the sudden sensation of something out of the corner of the eye, or a flicker of motion in the shadows. In the world of warriors, sometimes it proves to be a real threat, but most of the time it's little more than the mind playing tricks in a moment of overactive imagination. Millenia of evolutionary instinct still seeking predators in the brush.
Most of the time it's a spark of tension followed by an uncomfortable uneasiness that lingers, putting a bit more speed in one's step.
This time the sensation blossoms. That flicker of fear is but a spark in the tinder as an oppressive sensation encompasses the room. It's impossible to ignore, and it would take but a moment to discover its source.
It begins as a pin-point shadow, hovering at the center of the room, spreading outward as purple flames of energy lap at it. Reality tears away, seeming to be pulled in at the every expanding circle as if yanked away by a black hole. The rim of power spreading out in all directions until the inky blackness is just over two meters across.
Then the true source of this pressure arrives. Dressed in clean military reds, a long black cape writhing in an invisible wind, Lord Vega himself floats forth from the tear in reality, arms folded across his chest as he looks down upon the formerly lone occupant of the room.
"Consider yourself lucky, it's rare for one to be deemed so blessed as to be worthy of my personal attention," the dictator proclaims as his face twists into a smile worthy of a dragon.
For most people, that prickling sensation as the hairs raise on one's neck would be an unfamiliar experience. The vast majority of the world long ago stopped being a part of the natural cycle of predator and prey, hunter and hunted. Those instincts that would have served as warning signs are little more than odd curiosities, lingering flashbacks to a more savage and primitive world where strength and cunning were the only avenues of true power.
That is Kira's world. Savage, merciless, and ever-alert, she had crawled her way out from under the weight of a thousand corpses of her own making to become one of the world's deadliest killers at the mere age of fifteen. War, beautiful and terrible in its purity, had forged her into a weapon and rekindled those ancient predatory instincts until she had become something not quite human any longer.
As the gateway violently began to tear through time and space into her living room, Kira seemed to pay it little mind. Her eyes remained downcast at the scrolling neon text of the PDA, one hand propping her head up against its palm in boredom as the other danced its fingernails across the touchpad with stacatto click-click-clicks. Only someone who had met Kira before, seen the depths of her capabilities and the sheer ferocity with which she protected that which was her, would notice the subtle shifts. Her posture changed slightly, moving her weight about to allow her a quick escape from the stool if she suddenly needed to avoid something dangerous. The glass of vodka, now half-empty, was set back upon the bar and her cigarette left in her mouth freeing up that hand to reach for a weapon or to block. She was without her usual gear at the moment and that knowledge left her distinctly uneasy. The layered plates of kevlar and ceramic had saved her life more than once. She felt rather naked without them, even more so than the lack of clothes.
It wasn't until the twisting vortex spat out the one responsible for its creation that the mercenary made any sort of indication that she'd even noticed its presence. Kira sat up slowly, her eyes still half-closed from a mixture of hangover and weariness, and turned her head to glance at the man who had invaded her home. The sheer presence of the man was somehow physically palpable, as if there was a bubble of...something the veteran couldn't quite describe. It pressed at her without actually touching her and the feeling was at once both intriguing and disturbing. She shuddered involuntarily but it was a small thing that could just as easily have been due to the cold.
Where Vega's smile could have been haughty enough to be called draconic, the mercenary's eyes were intense and focused beneath those laconic veils. She stared at the large man taking in his impressive physique and grandoise attire - and yawned. A sharp drag on the half-used cigarette pulled fresh smoke into her lungs and the woman exhaled it through her nose with a slow and steady breath doing her own version of a dragon impersonation. After a moment of staring with a mixture of disinterest and annoyance, she turned back to the datapad and resumed tapping on it with equal amounts of disregard as if both he and the daily paperwork were about as interesting to Kira.
"People who try to get my personal attention generally don't get to brag about it," she said with a scowl, offering a beligerent tone in response to his intrusion. "What do you want? I'm not in the mood for social calls."
Lord Vega's feet lower down to the floor with such an ease that there's barely even a click as his metal-plated boots make contact. Despite the fact that he brushes just shy of six feet in height, the powerful muscles of a body literally crafted in an effort to achieve perfection combine with that aura to suggest something much greater.
"The Black Dragon, Kira Kolkov; you've done well to amass an army such as this, to wield its power so expertly." High praise from a man with standards like the warlord's. The only thing to respect in this world is power, whether it be individual or that held by a leader. "And there should still be potential for a great deal more, if you can take advantage of the opportunities in front of you."
It could never be said that the dictator was lacking in terms of ego. On the level of personal strength, none who had seen what he was capable of would argue that he isn't one of the strongest warriors to ever exist. But there were times when it was useful to let such matters go when making deals. No, what would matter in this discussion was not his own strength, but what he had to offer.
"You're not so ignorant as to be oblivious to who I am, or at the very least you would have heard rumors of my organization. You've made arrangements with allies in Metro City. The drugs and weapons flowing across the Mexican border move only through my hands." He offers a moment to let Kira consider this, taking a remarkably soft approach for a man so made from violence. "All have felt the reach of Shadaloo, but few are those that know its name. Fewer still are those so gifted as to learn my name. I am Lord Vega, and my Psycho Power is the strongest force in this world."
As he speaks, his hand is raised in front of him, fingers splayed outward as if craddling some invisible globe. Violet flames erupt from his palm, their mere existance clawing dripping with anger, violence, and most of all power.
That display of strength lasts only a few moments before Vega sets it aside, cutting off any attempt that Volkov might make to use wit to deflect him. "I am here to make you an offer. This world is on the verge of turmoil, and that means opportunity for those that are quick enough to take what they want, provided they can hold onto it once it is their's."
It was an organization spoken of only in whispers and even then in places where only the brave and the foolish dared to tread. She had heard reports over the years, both during her short time in the Russian secret service and in the years since establishing her presence as lord of the jungle, strange events of shadowy dealings or inexplicable shifts in power within the underworld. There had always been rumors about some greater force at work but these were the kinds of people who jumped at their own shadows more often than not and she'd dismissed such claims as unusual but little else.
Now she had a man who had simply.../appeared/ in her base, a location which she had gone to great lengths to keep secret for many years, claiming to be the most powerful man on the planet. Even more strangely, she believed him.
The flickering psychic fire draws her gaze and like a moth being pulled in by a bright light she seems unable to look away from it, captivated by the raw expression of power given physical form. It wasn't the first time she had seen such things. There were plenty of documented cases of individuals being able to call up fire or electricity or some other expression of force, or atleast some approximation thereof. What's more, she'd been to another world, a land of fairy tale monsters and ancient legends. She'd seen power, she /had/ power - but not like this.
The spell was broken when Vega closed his hand and withdrew the flames. Kira blinked as if only then becoming aware of what had happened and shifted her gaze back to the PDA after an uncertain moment. The sense of unease that had preceeded this man's arrival only continued to grow but it wasn't a clash of morals at work here. He wasn't an ultimate evil nor she a saint to oppose him. It was a very rare sensation for a predator such as herself to experience and the realization of what it was sent her mind into a momentary panic.
She was afraid of this man. Not because of anything reasonable. While his towering stature and well-toned muscles would make him a difficult opponent in hand-to-hand combat she had dealt with his like in the past. The military outfit which he wore with obvious confidence would indicate that he knew his way around a fight but Kira had dealt with braggarts and blow-hards in the past and not all of them lived up to their own high opinnions of themself. Even the strange energy which this 'Lord Vega' wielded wasn't enough to immediately send her mind into tactical retreat. There wasn't any one thing that she could put her finger on to explain the cold feeling in her gut when she looked at him and that made it even more disturbing. He simply seemed to radiate danger in a way that set off all of her instincts in a cacophony of warning.
After a long silence, Kira reached for the glass infront of her and downed the remaining liquid in a single motion. The fire that slid down her throat burned away the cold numbness that had begun to settle in and replaced it with outrage. This man had barged into her private sanctum without invitation, bragged at what an honor it was for /her/, and then attempted to intimidate her with...whatever it was he was doing.
The mercenary's teeth ground together as she fought to keep from reaching for the nearest firearm and showing him her 'psycho' power. A small voice of reason somewhere in the back of her mind shouted vehemently that this would be a very bad idea and after some short consideration she agreed with it. A powerful exhale sent the last of her cigarette smoke out in a thick cloud and she roughly stamped the ashes into a ceramic tray on the bar. The gesture was childish but it helped her relax a bit and some of the tension bled out of her body.
"Anyone ever tell you it's rude to barge in on a lady without knocking?" She glared at him with a side-long look that expressed as much petulance as possible. She didn't actually care about being caught with her pants down, literally, but it felt appropriately snarky in the current circumstances.
Thus far, Vega had been overwhelmingly kind by the standards he held himself to. There was a natural order in the world that many choose to forget simply because acknowledging it makes them terrified: Those who are strong enough can take anything they want from those who are weak, and compared to the true master of Psycho Power, all others were weak!
He had made the attempt to be respectful, ignored her previous remarks and even come here to offer her a great deal of power and all she had to do was listen and accept. The flare of anger sent a tingle across his chest, where it had been torn assunder by that fool of a World Warrior in their previous battle. The insult stoked the boiling rage that was never far from the surface of the warlord's soul.
Vega was the pinnacle of purity, having cast aside every flaw in the human soul to achieve mastery of Psycho Power, limited only by the weaknesses of his imperfect body being unable to withstand his true strength.
With a flash of violent motion as quick as the snap of a twig, a massive hand suddenly wraps around Kira's neck, yanking her effortlessly off her stool, sending the seat clattering across the room as Kira suddenly finds herself held up off the ground, positioned such that she is forced to look down straight into those blank white eyes as Vega's face twists into a mask of barely restrainted anger. The fingers wrapped around her throat are enough to make it require some effort to breathe, and Psycho Power flares faintly across her skin, granting the sensation of being held uncomfortably close to a bonfire without burning.
In this moment, a wave of oppressive rage flows outward from the man. Lesser souls left to tremble in terror, but all across the base can no doubt tell something isn't right now.
"I did not come here and show you respect to be insulted! You have managed to achieve a great deal by mortal standards, but before my Psycho Power you are nothing more than a worm!" Each word now suggests it would take little more for this moment to escalate, and with what's already been placed on display, even if Kira were to survive, it's quite likely that all she'd built here may be brought down by the destruction the warlord's wrath would bring.
"You are offered one last opportunity. Plead for my forgiveness and I will reconsider if the weight of your usefulness to me balances the scales of your previous insolence!"
It happened so fast that she didn't even see it coming. Too busy caught up in her own annoyance at the situation, Kira's guard had dropped and she found herself suddenly dangling in the air several inches off the ground. Instinctively, she reacted in the way anyone might, her legs flailing about for purchase in a desperate attempt to relieve the unexpected pressure on her neck.
The mercenary let out a strangled gurgle of protest, both hands reaching up to grab onto Vega's arm pulling uselessly from a position of inferior leverage and strength. It only takes a few seconds for the surprise to wear off and the situation to become clear. She peers down into the empty whites of the warlord's eyes and that feeling of uncanny fear washes over her anew mixed with a rage and hatred that she has never experienced before.
This time she was ready for it and her resolve hardened against the supernatural emotions which had the side-effect of clearing away the reactionary surge of instictive panic at being caught in a trap. Kira settled down, her legs going still through she still held on to the arm that pinned her aloft for support. Swallowing hard, she considered her options, few as they were.
She could reach for the gun nestled carefully against her side beneath the open shirt but such a move would definately be considered an act of aggression and she was under no illusions that someone strong enough to hold her up in the air with one hand could easily break her neck if they thought she was trying something funny. She could shout for help but even if there happened to be someone nearby she ran into the same problems as the first option, she'd be dead before anyone even opened the door. If Zhenya had been present when all of this went down things might be different - yeah, like being able to get both of them killed. The third option was the most distasteful but also, it seemed, the most likely to let her live.
Kira licked her lips a little nervously and cleared her throat, attempting to suck in enough air to give a response. "My...ahem... my apologies." She offered a smile that somehow still carried a faint element of disrespect in the smug tilt of her lips. "I can get a little cranky in the mornings. I'm sure you can relate."
The response is not immediate. Kira's words are left to hang heavy in the air, held aloft by the density of menace that permeates the scene. No promise has been made that any words will be sufficient to soothe Vega's fury and the mercenary leader has found herself balanced on the knife's edge that is the warlord's patience and reason.
Finally her feet once more touch the safety of the floor, his hand withdrawing to leave his airway unrestrained. The ease with which such violence began and ended leaving clear the threat that is inherent to any interaction with the leader of Shadaloo.
"You would be wise to consider this a rare gift of mercy. For the time being, you still hold value that I would be annoyed to lose to stupidity." These are words made to linger, a suggestion that Kira's fate has been returned to her own hands, and the implication that the fool who risks his anger may as well taunt a hurricane bearing down upon them.
"Threats bear down upon us from other realms. Would be conquerers that set eyes on what rightly belongs to me and those that serve at my desire. I've been watching your organization long enough to know that you deal in the creatures called Darkstalkers. You know there are other planes that exist alongside our own, separated by some force that is not strong enough to truly isolate. This world needs to be prepared for an inevitable war under the leadership of those unrestrained by illusions of morality."
Vega pauses, allowing Kira an opportunity to absorb this all before he continues. "I possess a great deal of power and the resources to make use of it, but plans need to accelerate, and to do that I am seeking allies willing to benefit from sharing my vision. With enough strength, we will know reward beyond a single world."
Kira took to her own two feet again as gracefully as possible but she couldn't restrain herself from lifting a hand to her bruised neck to rub at it a few times. This gesture was mostly a feint though the soreness was real. A long slender chain of tiny silver beads suspended a pair of dogtags around her neck. Ordinary to the casual inspection but both were hollow constructions that sandwiched a tiny transmitter between their nickle surfaces. The mercenary allowed her hand to drop down towards them and squeezed the tags between her fingers - nervous tick to anyone who didn't know their secret.
All around the base, silent alarms began to flicker to life on the PDAs of every mercenary in the facility. She sent a short coded message, tapping out old Morse with rythmic pulses of her fingertips: 'Assemble but wait for the signal'. Right now she knew several dozen of her elites would be suiting up and outside the doors within a minute or two. As nice as it would be to believe her guest's offer was on the level, he seemed to have some impulse issues and she felt far more comfortable knowing that another such outburst could be met with a hail of automatic fire.
Kira makes a show of listening intently to the Shadaloo leader as if what he's saying it as weighty and important as Vega makes it out to be. And, if she's being entirely honest, it does intrigue her more than a little. If even half the reports about this shadow organization were true then she was dealing with some seriously badass dudes. Not that she considered her own forces lacking but at the end of the day they were just mercenaries, not super soldiers.
Ofcourse, she had other toys at her disposal now, as he had mentioned. The training of the Darkstalkers she'd brought back from her foray into the strange world of monsters had proceeded at a slower pace than she hoped but already a few dozen of the werewolves were at the point where she felt comfortable unleashing them alongside her troops in a fight. The group of entirely female cat-like creatures had proven extremely resistant to domestication, atleast for military purposes, but she'd found other ways to market them. Even if she had failed utterly at breaking any of them, the sheer number of rumors that had risen up since she put /monsters/ on the market like they were just another product had been enough to take some of the pressure off her forces from even long-time antagonists. No one wanted to find out what would happen if she unleashed the dreaded things upon them.
Kira let silence reign for a time after he finished speaking and let a thoughtful expression take over her features, considering possibilities that might not have ever been within her grasp. On the one hand, she already possessed considerable wealth and power. Every thug and warlord in Africa came to her for weapons and merchandise and quite a few others besides. Ruler of a country though? An entire world? That had a ring to it that resonated with something dark and greedy deep inside of the mercenary. Nothing is ever that simple though.
"So..." she said, finally breaking the quiet. "There are more of these 'other worlds' out there, like the one that I saw. And there are people like," she eyed him for a moment, "us - that want to invade and conquer earth. But you want to beat them to the punch and put them on the defensive. And for that you want...my help."
It can be difficult to imagine the full extent of Shadaloo's power, given its current position at the very depths of the shadowy underworld, but it's influence is well know. After his own remarks, it's obvious they exert a great deal of strength in Mexico, but there are suggestions that it also acts in Brazil, Thailand, China, Russia, Korea, India, Japan and most likely even beyond even those hints. With a man like Vega standing at its head, it's not surprising that it may well be one of the most powerful organizations in the world.
It's also remarkable, given how explosive the warlord's rage is, that it has actually managed to maintain secrecy for as long as it has. There is to be no doubt that there must exist some philosphy to leave no witnesses behind.
"In war, allowing your opponent to dictate the battlefield will leave you at a tremendous disadvantage. I have managed to gather that there are some form of rules in place that leave us... somewhat protected. We have time to prepare."
The dictator takes a moment to look over the woman standing before him with an intensity of appraisal, as if those blank eyes can stare straight through to her very soul. It's quite possible that is entirely what he is doing, if his claims of mastering his soul hold any truth to them.
"You have potential, Black Dragon, but you don't yet have the power to rival those that stand alone at the summit. You would be blind to have no clue what other forces there are acting within our own world. I intend to call those that hold a similar ideology and drive so that we may address the problem. I have no doubt that I could lay claim to this world through my own might, but I am not so foolish as to believe that it would not leave my resources drained and ill-prepared for the coming storm."
Another pause, to let his words linger in her mind before he continues. "But I am also prepared to make other arrangements. There are those who act as my hands in this world already. It is through one of these hands that I hold all of Mexico in my grip. If you take your place beneath me, I will supply your operations. I have money, drugs, weapons, and even more importantly, I have researchers that have already begun seeking answers about the Darkstalkers. You seek to collar your beasts, and there are none in the world with more power to bend minds to their will as I."
The warlord turns to look thoughtfully at the door to the room and then simply turns back Kira with a knowing, menacing smile that speaks more than words.
"I will someday rule this world and beyond, those that serve me well will be rewarded beyond measure. Those that stand against me will know the purity of annihilation."
Kira's eyes followed the blank gaze towards the door and she sucked in a silent breath. He knew. Somehow, despite a foot of concrete and tightly sealed steel doors, he knew. She hadn't even heard so much as the scuff of a boot. What the hell was she dealing with here?
If every warning bell in her head wasn't already ringing they sure as hell were now. As soon as people start throwing around words like purity in regards to anything other than sex or drugs they've probably taken more than a couple steps off the deep end. Unfortunately, in this case, the madman before her has the power to act on his maniacal whims. It might be the more prudent option to decline the offer. There's the possibility that he would simply leave it at that. But if it's true that most people don't even know his name then the fact that he appeared before her might as well be a 'join or die' scenario. Her future as anything other than a corpse seems inexorably entwined with that of Shadaloo.
Kira's expression became something hard and unreadable but the frustration was impossible to miss. "It would seem the decision has been made for me."
A hand went up to smooth back the thick mess of golden hair which had until now remained a messy tangle from the previous evening. She didn't like being talked to like some unruly school child. She didn't like being faced down with something that broke all the normal rules and simply outclassed her by its mere existence. For most of her adult life she had been the one people cowered infront of. It was humbling and that really pissed her off.
"My forces are...," she says, through a fake smile composed of gritted teeth, "at your disposal."
It's not surprising that Kira isn't comfortable with all of Vega's ideas. The source of his power is difficult to believe for those that haven't actually experienced it. A man so obsessed with power that he purged a portion of his soul, casting it aside so that he might reach a new level of perfection... and then killing all the others that knew of this secret. In a world where there are those that are willing to commit sins to achieve some measure of personal strength, there are none so dedicated as Lord Vega.
And in this purity of intention, still there are those willing to deceive themselves about the man who is willing to share apparent kindness with those that serve him, whether that reward be money, power, revenge, or opportunity. It's all a tool to manipulate. This man sees the world as his property, and all that resides within it belongs to him as well. A man whose rage is restrained only by his greed and lust for power, for a tool disposed of can never be used again.
"A wise decision, and one that shall see you rewarded magnificently," Vega responds with that unpleasant smile. "My forces will be arriving shortly to supply you. They wait merely on my orders." The implication of his words remains obvious: if he had been displeased, those same forces would have likely come forth to punish the mercenaries for their commander's hubris.
"Be prepared, you will be called on soon enough to join the summit where those with the strength to do so shall lay our claim on this world. No interlopers from some other realm will be permitted to insult our might."
With that said, the dictator turns, his cape taking to the wind for a moment as he does. Once more the black rift in space tears reality asunder as Vega once more lifts up from the ground with effortless ease, floating back into the void he appeared from.
Kira's smile remained fixed in place until the fearsome man's back was turned. Even before he had completely stepped through the dark gateway, however, her grin had morphed into a look of unfettered outrage. Teeth ground together so hard that she thought they might be crushed into powder and the dull ache in her head returned with a vengence from the small corner it had been cowered into while Vega's terrible aura held sway.
Turning on her heels, the woman who called herself a dragon unleashed her fury upon the first thing that came within reach. The chair of soft leather upon which she had slept exploded from the ground with an ear-splitting crash its wooden interior shattering into detrius as it hit the far wall. This was apparently enough of a commotion to be considered a signal of some sort and seconds later the doors to the rec-room violently banged open at the insistence of booted heels followed swiftly by what must have been atleast fifty mercenaries.
Clad in black armor from head to toe, they swept into the room in careful unison, expertly fanning out into small groups that covered every angle with the menacing bullpup assault rifles cradled in their arms. Kira ignored them entirely and turned to vent her anger on something new. Two more chairs met similar fates before the rescue squad realized that nothing appeared to actually be present in the room that might be considered a threat - save their very obviously aggitated leader.
Several uneasy looks were exchanged but one of the masked men eventually stepped forward to address the rampaging Kira. "Commander? Is everything al-"
His question was interrupted by the mercenary leader's fist which slammed into his jaw with such ferocity that the man's feet left the ground for several seconds before he landed in a heap an impressive distance from his original spot. She let out a scream of frustration that was almost feral and several of the elite guards took an instinctive step backwards at the sound.
Practically mad with anger, Kira attempted to speak but couldn't seem to find the words and the noises simply became unintelligible growls. She paced back and forth at a feverish pace stalking in small circles like a caged beast. At some point the gun in her side holster found its way into her hands, a cold and familiar source of strength. She clutched it tightly as if it were the last lifeline to something sane but the pressure in her head refused to fade, slowly building up to an unbearable boil.
With a sudden wild shout, she whirled and opened fire on the far wall behind the bar. Bottles of expensive liquor began to explode in rapid succession, shards of glass becoming whirling fragments of impromptu shrapnel that rained down on those unfortunate enough to be standing nearby. She squeezed the trigger over and over again until the tell-tale click of an empty chamber resounded through the room. It took several moments for her to realize that there were no more bullets left but when she did her anger also seemed to run out of ammunition and she crumpled miserably onto a couch.
Several long moments passed before anyone else had the courage to risk her ire again. Another masked bodyguard stepped forward but said nothing, merely waiting for her to speak once they had her attention.
Kira took several ragged breaths and looked around finally realizing what it is she had done. She growled again but it lacked the conviction of her previous outbursts.
"Zhenya." She spoke after another long pause filled with silence, her expression suddenly eerily calm and focused. "Someone find Zhenya. We have things to talk about."
Log created on 14:32:16 03/13/2016 by Vega, and last modified on 00:02:52 03/14/2016.