(The following is a Yaoi story set between SF2 and SF4. If you don’t like this subject, I don’t want to hear about it. You’ve been warned. <3)
Love and Loyalty, by Inverse for a <3’d friend.
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Every step was harder than the last. Weak.
All of it, weakness.
This could only be the result of one who was not destined for power, that which begets life, dripping from his fingertips. Blood, he was quite used to seeing it on his hands. Even as the mud and rain muddled it across his skin. Yet it was never his own, always the life-blood of the weak at his hands. These hands capable of so much betrayal, pain~ destruction. There was little these hands could not be accused of without being true, yet he could never remember a time where his own would flow like this.
He coughed, tasting iron spill from his lips. Curse this body~ this wretched limitation, the imitation of that which he sought. Darkness entered his mind as he took another step, so close to sanctuary~ with none to truly take him to it. Alone, …not a state he was unused to, yet now in this storm so close to his base of operations~ his vision would fail him. His legs would falter, and he collapsed in a heap upon the cold wet earth.
Lightning struck, a flash of white and shades of colors he had almost forgotten appeared in his vision. Bison would not be able to carry on, the damage he had sustained from him, from that man… that mysterious power~ so violent, unrestrained and wild.
True strength and power.
There was no resisting its force, its true nature unchallenged. What Bison sought was dominance, but it was a shadow of what this man, this being possessed. He hadn’t even seen it coming~, could it have been him? That man and his power, too pure to be truly what he sought, too naive to show his true nature. No~ it had to have been someone else, and yet…
His vision had suddenly began to fail him. The thunder that crashed through his body shook his frame, yet he could not hear it. This world was fading to him~ and yet it did not matter. All that he could strive so hard to reach for had left him. He could feel then, a presence above him. A familiar one, him~ just the scent of him exuded strength. Ferocity~ liquid intensity. It was not what he had sought, not a reflection of his desires, and yet something quite different.
His body had been lifted, water and blood mixed below him, raining in a storm from his chest. Why would he carry him~? The glint of his mask hiding his features, except for his eyes. Those eyes that saw through him for what he was, and despite it still he was carried, through the threshold of sanctuary…
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“Wh…what are you…doing?”
“Be silent, you haven’t much energy to spare.” Vega spoke softly as he affixed Bison to the platform. Laying still upon a bed of steel~ lined with a padding so soft as to forget one were upon it. The conduit Bison had built to rest on would channel and forge the energy he possessed back through the veins that fueled his power, his drive. Vega understood little of what Bison truly was~ but he knew this much.
Bison would die without him~ at this very moment, he was the only one to support him. Shadaloo, empty and disgraced. Chaos ensued as the enemy came closer to end its reign. For all intents and purposes, he looked down at Bison as a shell, a shell of a spirit who had sought only the ugliest of truths~ that power could be obtained, and yet… we are all mortal. In the end, this was all Bison was able to amount to.
“Leave me alone…I…” Bison stammered, coughing as his body shivered at the touch of something cool upon his skin. Vega had removed his mask, wiping the blood from Bison’s bare chest with a free hand, a cool cloth over the dictator’s chest.
“I told you to be silent.”
“Who are you to be talking to…to me in such~” Bison coughed again, his muscles tensing as he tried to lift himself up. Vega scowled, a hand flat upon his bare chest holding him down.
“Me?” he laughed softly as Bison calmed himself. “I’m only the one trying to save your life.”
Bison fell back, only then did he realize his clothing had been removed. In tatters as they were, they barely covered the injuries that were inflicted upon him. He was truly exposed to Vega, a subordinate. He never thought he would be at anyone’s mercy, especially him.
The gentle hands upon him worked quickly to ensure his wounds were tended to, Vega’s precision with aid was nearly as skilled as his ability to inflict injury. There was purity in all he did, and for this Bison understood why he had been served so well. There was loyalty in those hands, but above all else, there was a certain kind of power he lacked.
Vega looked upon Bison, his eyes were open if only slightly. Never had Vega seen them, the brown eyes of a man who felt himself immortal. There was a certain irony, that such a thing could be seen so close to his death. It was as if, as life returned to Bison, so would death claim him. He looked upon them, the dark wells for eyes that Bison had forsaken in search of true omnipotence, he drank from them with his own. Yet his hands could feel Bison begin to shake, and knew that death was close to him.
“Why do you even stay…?”
Vega blinked. “What question is this?”
“Why do you stay? Why don’t you leave me here to die~ you are stronger Vega. I am the embodiment of defeat. Have I taught you nothing?”
“You have taught me many things master. Above all, the rewards of loyalty.”
Bison scoffed~ what possible reward could he give in this state? He could barely lift his hand. There was nothing anymore for him~ he was just a man. He would die, as nothing more than what he had started with. “I can give you nothing~ you prove nothing to me but your own pathetic servitude to the fallen.”
“Then I shall serve until there is nothing left to do so…” Vega said, shutting Bison’s eyes with the touch of finger tips, a hiss from his lips as he kissed him. If there would be conflict in this kiss, then it would be brief, Vega knew, yet none came. He could sense tears from once colorless eyes, and yet he would not see them. He closed his own and their lips embraced. From outside, the storm would crash, and miles away the thunder of the enemy would roar…
Yet within this room, only the static pops~ of lips sliding amongst the sweet enrapture of their bliss could be heard. A light pop~ as they separated. A soft gasp for air. Bison said nothing at all, expecting nothing else in this final moment, and yet the strangest occurrence would become of him. The machine he lay on began to come alive.
“There is power in release…” Vega whispered harshly~, the room dimming in brightness as the machine began to glow, purple haze surrounding the bed of dark manifestation. The focus of Bison’s power coursing through his veins.
“There is no truth in this…” Bison said harshly, his hands tensing, nails clawing at his bed side as his back arched, only to be embraced by Vega. His strong arms holding him close, chest pressed against each other as his head fell limp. The lips of the assassin pressed softly upon the nape of Bison’s neck, tongue fluttering from his lips like a viper’s across the Adam’s apple of his master.
“Hardly~ yet, lies are not exactly unknown to me.” Vega uttered, the tip of his nails clawing down his chest, leaving a trail in its wake. “I am no saint. Yet I know the truth of things…” Vega’s nails idled above the left of Bison’s chest, pressing hard and breaking skin.
Bison winced, too weak to react and yet there was more staying his hand. The blood was red, thick~ full of vitality. The Spaniard rose the blood-stained finger to his lips and Bison watched as he savored. It was not done to mock him, but for the man’s pure enjoyment. Water still fell from his scattered blonde hair, his eyes closing softly as he suckled.
“Does the blood of a blackened heart taste sweet to you…?” Bison coughed, lunging forward, the Spaniard’s fingers bracing him.
“Your heart may be black…” He rose his fingers, spreading them over Bison’s lips, but the man rejected them and turned away. His eyes still saw the red upon his skin. “Yet its fruit is still sweet…”
Bison looked up at his insubordinate. The power behind his eyes, normally reserved and calm. He knew why he had chosen him, the strength chaotic yet tempered through a focus that even he lacked. If a storm could be contained it would be him, Vega. Thunder flashed behind the chiseled beauty, as well as the loud noise of an explosion at the entrance to the facility. From a distance still, their footsteps could be heard, soldiers coming closer to end Bison’s reign of dominance over the world.
“It seems our guests have arrived,” Vega spoke, stepped up and looking toward the door to the large laboratory. In his hand the tempered steel mask that would become his constant companion. Bison’s eyes gazed upon it, for what Vega sought was not power but the preservation of what he felt was of true value. He saw value in very little, and at this moment~ especially himself.
“You waste your time, they will be upon us soon, let them find me if that’s what they wish. Without power, I am nothing. I have nothing.” He spoke, his voice shuddering in pain as his wounds healed ever so slowly in the chamber. The wounds inflicted by an individual who wished for nothing, desired nothing, but power. Why was he weak? What did that man have that he himself lacked?
“You’re wrong…” Vega spoke, lifting the mask up to his face, still looking back at his lord and master, allowing him to see the smile on his face. Bison’s gaze rose to meet his eyes, those brown, silken eyes. Insanity behind those eyes tempered, tempered by beauty~ his own reflection in those dark pools. “You have me.”
With the mask upon his face, his visage had changed. The cool and collected Spaniard stepped toward the door his hands held outward at his hips as if in welcome as the doors blew open in light and powdered smoke. Soldiers rushing in, their weapons drawn upon the masked man who stepped toward them without fear. Their eyes gre wide in recognition, screaming at him to stop.
Red lasers spread across his chiseled chest, painting death upon him. Yet he would not die, he could not die~ not until he had proven to his master that power didn’t lay in conquest. It was not victory or defeat that gave him power. It was not the pursuit of strength that made him follow him that fateful day long ago.
What Vega saw was beauty, beauty unparalleled in the universe. He knew Bison would discover this beauty, whatever labels he’d designate it, he would still~ find it. When he did, Vega wanted to be there with him. To protect that which he valued most.
“Put the weapon down and get on the floor! It’s over Vega! Shadaloo is finished!” a soldier shouted, his voice ringing in the facility chamber with cascading echo. Vega smiled beneath his mask, in the darkness of that small space was his true emotions and yet to those who gazed upon him, a visage of death.
“It’s only just begun…” With a flash of his eyes, he vanished from their eyes. A rain of bullets following him as he leapt onto the ceiling, his body a cross, feet planted and looking down upon his prey. Falling like a reaper of death~
Bison’s eyes fell back, his head weak as he slowly lost consciousness. He did have something, though what he should call it he did not know. His body felt warm, alive. He would not die this day. This feeling was not foreign to him, yet it was something his black heart should have purged from his veins, long ago. Perhaps it was this, that held him back from true potential… or perhaps it was this why he was still alive, in order to pursue it. His eyes fell shut, the sounds of gunfire and screaming his lullaby~
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–
Thunder crashed, whipping rain in every direction. This was where he would be forged. This was his domain. The man groveling on his knees before him could not possibly understand the limits of his power. With a kick upon his shoulder, the Japanese man screamed at the top of his lungs, his shoulder strained, close to the point of breaking.
“It seems you now understand the power I possess, scream for me!” He shouted, reaching down and throwing the man through the air, crashing and colliding in a crumple at the legs of his friend. These foolish humans who felt themselves capable of defeating him. No, it would not be them~ Bison had seen power and it was not here.
Vega stepped beside him, his back to his master’s shoulders. His skin radiating heat like a charged sun upon his master’s flesh. “Shall I take care of them, master Bison?” he spoke calmly, his eyes gazing upon the would-be heroes that would attempt to strike them down through his mask. His claws dripped with water, sweat and blood. It pooled upon his shoulders, dripping in staggered channels down the length of his arm.
The Asian man rose to his feet, held by his fellow of blonde hair. Their eyes were angry, they did not understand their place in this world, and neither would they understand true beauty. Bison understood this, on a level that he had never contemplated before. What they sought, noble as it may be, was worthless to him.
“No,” he said deeply, stepping forward, his hand upon his collar. The fighters tensed, beaten and weary, yet they held on with every last breath. They stood in tandem, never releasing their bond, their friendship~ but it was not as strong as what Bison held within. It would fall beneath the crust of his boot.
With a whip of his hand, his cape came flying off, revealing the musculature of his chest, the whites of his eyes flashing brightly as thunder crashed again. Vega smiled beneath his steel mask. This was the man he had pledged to protect. This was the man he would serve with his every waking being.
True love and loyalty.
“Now… face the mighty Bison…”
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I was wondering where you’d posted this <3