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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine	By : lilwitch Category: +S through Z > Street Fighter Views: 3420 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: WARNING: Graphic violence and abuse depicted in this story. Read at your own discretion! I do not own Street Fighter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Author's Disclaimer: This story contains content of a highly disturbing psychological nature that may be offensive to some readers: including but not limited to abuse, rape, and torture/violence. Please DO NOT read if you are likely to be offended! STREET FIGHTER and characters such as Vega are owned by CAPCOM. I make no profit in this work of fiction. For entertainment only.

Soon enough, we arrived in Lyons, France at Señor Gauldera's villa. It was a large white mansion, surrounded by trees and a sprawling lawn. It was enclosed by a black iron fence, with a long gravel drive way lined with topiary. There was a marble fountain in the middle of the lawn.
Inside was no less impressive. There was a grand staircase, much like one in my own mansion. The walls were white with white marble and the staircase was draped in red carpeting. I saw underneath the staircase were large French doors. One was propped open and I peeked inside. It was a beautiful grand ballroom with a large crystal chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. Looking up, I could see also what appeared to be hooks but I was not sure what they were for.
“You two certainly travel light!” exclaimed the handsome older man. “Come with me. I will take you upstairs to your rooms.” we did as we were bid and followed him up the grand staircase. There was a long white hallway lined with doors.
“I have many rooms available. You may pick whichever one you wish. I will leave you to get settled.” We watched him depart down the stairs and with a glance to one another, we shrugged and began to peek into each of the rooms. There were rows of rooms facing each other and in each room, there seemed to be a different motif.
I chose a room decorated in blood red and gold. It had terracotta colored walls and the large long windows had velvet burgundy brocade curtains, a king-sized four poster canopy bed, with matching burgundy velvet canopy, and a gold brocade bedspread with burgundy satin sheets. There were potted plants in the corners of the room and it reminded me of a sort of an ancient Roman palace. The copper marbled floor reflected in the sun, giving the whole room a warm glow, an almost ethereal quality—indeed, very befitting to my tastes.
I was hardly surprised when my mother chose the room next door to mine. I walked into her room to see her sitting on the bed.
It was almost like her room at home; it was a room filled with antiques and a light colored brocade.
The room reminded me of the ostentatious gilding of the 18^th century furniture, everything awash with a white veneer and gleaming gold trim. She had a grand four-poster bed just as I did, but it was of course painted white with gold gilding; flowing white gauze hung down from the canopy; her bedding was also a matching white, but light pink embroidered flowers decorated the pillows. A beautiful light pink brocade scarf hung decoratively over the vanity. On the walls, there were classical paintings with scenes from the Greek and Roman mythology and over her bed there was a wooden polished crucifix. As I looked about the room, I could not help but get the feeling that someone had actually lived here before.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Yes, it's beautiful.” I said as I scanned the room. She smiled warmly and rose, peering into my room next. “Now, what did you choose?”
I watched her as she looked about the room. She ran her hands down the velvet curtains and turned to look at my grand poster bed, and then took a seat on it.
“Isn't it perfect?”
“Yes, it's what I expected for you.”
“You think so?” I asked with a grin, taking a seat beside her, and I watched her as she glanced around the room again.
“It's very regal! Nothing is too good for my sweet prince!”
“Mother, really!” I scoffed, and I laughed as I went over to the vanity. I admired my flawless, unblemished face as I un-braided and then re-braided my long, dark golden hair.
“Oh my Narcís!” she exclaimed with an amused smile as she watched me at the vanity. “Whatever shall we do with you? Just look at you!”
“Yes, look at me. I am perfect!” I said as I turned towards her and fastened a hairband on the end of my braid.
“Shall we? I'm sure our host will be expecting us downstairs soon.” she said with a gesture.
I turned back to her.
“I'm sure he will, Mother.”
“Oh now Vega, you mustn't be so sharp. He invited us here and you wanted to go too, remember?” I twitched my mouth contemptuously.
“You're right, Mama, but as nice as he seems, I'm not sure we can trust him.”
Mother frowned and folded her arms.
“Well, it's as you said before, we don't have any choice right now, do we? He was nice enough to get us in without our passports!”
It was true; I was not sure how he got us passed the border guards, but he did. I was wondering why it took so long to cross into France...
My eyes widened in shock as that realization hit me. Mother turned me towards the door and gently pushed me out.

The next evening was the grand ball. Truth be told, I had had my fill of Balls and dancing as of late but this, I was told, was to be quite an exception. Señor Marc Antoní Gauldera, my gracious host, promised me it would be unlike anything I had ever seen, or had ever been to before.
Mother in her brand new ballgown, and I in my brand new spot free tux entered the ballroom arm in arm. I felt a sense of déjà vu as I looked about the room, though I knew I had not been here before. The large crystal chandelier glittered from the ceiling and I glanced back up at the hooks poking precariously next to it. I couldn't help but to wonder what they were for.
Mother and I were announced by the usher, just as we were at any ball, even though were already there as guests. After we took our place in the room, Marc Antoní greeted us warmly, kissing my mother on her cheeks and then shaking my hand with a kiss on the cheek ceremoniously.
“There you are! So good to see you again. Señora de Cerna, you are a vision as always.” said Señor Gauldera with a twinkle in his eyes.
By now, you are expecting a lavish and possibly somewhat romantic description of what my mother wore, no doubt. She was dressed beautifully as always but this night, my eyes were filled with such beauty, even my mother could not compare!
Women of all ages and nationalities filled the room and it was awash with the colors of their dresses, a light perfume filled the air. It was the usual sea of satin and taffeta and all the same formal classical music I was used to, and yet, something felt different. My eyes kept being drawn upward to large chandelier with hooks near it. So mesmerized was I that I nearly jumped at the soft tap on my shoulder from my mother.
“Vega, what are you looking at?” she asked, looking up also.
“Nothing.” I replied, still absorbed in the ceiling.
“It is beautiful in here, isn't it? Almost like home...”
“I suppose...” I said, not fully paying attention.

“Would you like to dance with me, Vega?” she asked and I looked down at her, my concentration finally broken.
“Not really, Mother. Sorry.” I replied and I studied her eyes a moment, expecting to see the same disappointed look I always got from her, but none came.
“Señora, would you do me the honor?” interjected Señor Gauldera just that moment, appearing at her side and offering his hand. She looked flustered a moment and then quickly accepted. The man grinned at me as they walked to the center of the room and began a waltz. Part of me was grateful I didn't have to dance with her, but the other part was angry that it was he who was the one who danced with her. With a leer, I watched them carefully as I moved against the wall, observing their movements and the expressions on their faces as they danced. Mother seemed to glow and she smiled and laughed, the same as she always seemed to with me.
Marc Antoní smiled and occasionally whispered into her ear, then my mother would giggle. It seemed to go on for the duration of the music. I could not even imagine the pick up lines he was using on her. My stomach churned at the thought and so I turned away and began to scan the room. I was bored and restless, anxiously awaiting the promised surprise that Señor Marc Antoní had in store for us.
I wandered in the back of the room to the refreshment tables, where lavish assortments of food and drink were piled high. I was not particularly hungry or thirsty, but I browsed as if I was. I picked up a chocolate bon-bon and took a glass of punch, turning back to my playing field.
Any moment now, an adoring young female fan or two would approach me, shyly try and engage the famous matador and I, sensing such vulnerability, would soon try and ease her nerves. She would play right into my charms and then, I would have my way with her in every sense of the word! Women never refused me, and I never refused them.
I licked my lips, savoring a drop of punch as I thought of ravishing a girl in some dark deserted area of the room. How sweet it would be devouring their flesh, tearing the clothes from their body, their squeals of ecstasy loud in my ears; but even as I stood there, imagining my lustful fantasies, I could see Mother, her body pressed close against Señor Gauldera as they danced, I could see her smiling and throwing back her head as she laughed. The light caught her diamond jewelry as they moved about slowly, reflecting a blissful gleam in her eye. I could see him whispering in her her ear, and he pressed his lips against her neck every so often. I clenched my glass so tight I thought it might break! I looked away before my heart thumped out of my chest.
And so, I did as I was expected and I began to hunt for a suitable girl to dance with. I walked out to the middle of the dance floor and a girl fluttered her way over to me, that same empty gleam in her eye, the one all the fan girls had when they saw me. I loved the way they adored me but I knew as well as they did what they really wanted. For now, though, a dance would do.
“Monsieur Vega?” she said to me, almost breathless in her excitement. “You're the famous matador, oui?”
I grinned at her, scanning her body as she spoke. A quaint brunette with a slender waist and average size. I could make use of her, if I wished.
“Yes, I am he.” I said smoothly, “Would you care to dance, Señorita?” and I offered my hand.
“It would be an honor!” she exclaimed as we moved out onto the dancefloor.
I held the girl close in my arms as we danced and she smiled up at me, her eyes gleaming so. My stomach began to churn at the thought, and I looked around the room again. I saw my mother still dancing with Señor Gauldera nearby.
Once more, he stood with his back to me, which meant that my mother could see me over his shoulder. Her mouth smiled but her eyes caught me in a cold glare. I swallowed, locking eyes with her and turned the girl slowly, deliberately so that I matched my mother's gaze. We seemed determined to not lose sight of each other as I turned, she turned, and still our eyes met. I could see Señor Gauldera kiss her cheek and I narrowed my eyes. Mother's smile seemed triumphant as her long manicured nails clutched tightly against his shoulder, and he crushed her against him, her cheek pressed against his. I squeezed the girl's hand tight and this finally caused her to look up at me with a small cry of pain, which I would have truly noticed if I were looking down at her at that moment.
“Ouch! That hurts!” she cried out.
“I'm sorry,” I replied quietly, not shifting my gaze from my mother. I could hear her sigh.
Violently, I turned her again, swinging her body around like a fragile doll, trying to near this elusive couple.
The blood rushed in my body, my heart pounded in my chest as I watched Señor Gauldera's hand leave my mother's and land on her back. Her cold glare turned into a triumphant sparkle as she looked at me. Still, I knew behind that sparkle was the ever-present icy glare that burned into my soul, daring me not to look away; I did not. I could see him whispering into her ear again, things I knew I could never bear to hear, things she did not need to hear and I watched his hand on her back slide slowly lower. She bit her bottom lip as she looked at me, stifling an embarrassed smile as she quickly replaced his hand onto her back once more.
I was in utter torment now, holding this meaningless girl in my arms but unable to look away from the woman who gave birth to me—somehow, my mother seemed so different; she was alive again, and yet in a way that I had never seen before. She smiled flirtatiously; her eyes held an impish gleam, even as she looked at me, and I was not sure if such a look was for me, or the man who held her so tight.
Indeed, this was punishment enough. I despised it when she did not approve, but I loathed it more when she would refuse to say so. Her radiant smile became more cruel than any glare she had given me so far. To see this lecherous man touching her in such a way turned my stomach; she deserved better.
I longed for such closeness and so I crushed the poor brunette against me suddenly. I smiled at her and she scowled, pulling away. She turned silently and walked away quickly, and I stood there grinning. I decided to head back to the refreshment table for a drink; all that dancing had made me thirsty of course.
No sooner had I picked up a glass of punch when Señor Gauldera walked to the center of the room and halted the music. Everyone stopped dancing and looked at him, beginning to spread out and move towards him.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please! Tonight, I have planned a great surprise for you all. Truly a great spectacle to be held!” he said, raising his arms emphatically. I heard the sound of a motor and chains and I looked up to see a panel in the ceiling slide open. A great cage with metal bars suspended on chains was lowered slowly until it landed on the ground. I could see the chains hanging from the hooks in the ceiling. Never before had I seen such a thing, and while I had heard things about cage fights, until a few weeks ago, I had never bothered to go to one. I'm sure my father would have jumped at the chance to take me but, I could only imagine what a dreary experience that would have been.
“Tonight, you will witness the greatest cage fight ever seen! I have for you two very talented and strong fighters from far off corners of the globe.” and as he said this, two men emerged from behind him. One I recognized as the dark-skinned muscular Thai fighter Sagat, the other was a burly muscular Caucasian man with a beard, mustache, and a buzz-cut down the middle of his head. He wore red bracers, trunks, and heavy boots. He looked to be some kind of wrestler; perhaps a Russian.
I glanced over to my mother to gauge what she thought of this spectacle. I smirked to myself as I watched her stomp out of the room. I knew that there would be no consoling her later, but right now, there were too many important things happening.
“From the far-off jungle of Thailand, I present to you Muay Thai champion Victor Sagat, and from the bloody Red Iron Curtain of the Soviet Union, I present to you Zangief, Soviet National wrestling champion!”
It was certainly a spectacle to behold! Zangief stood as a hairy mass of muscles, hunched over and ready to fight; his posture made him seem short next to the sleek Thai fighter.
In truth, Sagat was only 4 inches taller but the difference was that he stood tall and thin, rigid.
Zangief spoke in English with a heavy Russian brogue.
“I fight for Mother Russia! I fight for honor and fame! You, Thai-man, what do you fight for?” he said.
Sagat smirked and replied,
“It is not important what I fight for—but my true quest shall be to gain my glory—and there is no true glory in fighting you!” Zangief growled and clenched his fists, ready to fight.
He ran at Sagat, hunched over and ready to grab. Sagat laughed lowly and shot out fierce fireballs from his fists, and the wrestler tumbled back a couple times and stopped flat on his back. The rough man shook his head and stood back up, ready to run toward him again. Sagat delivered several midair kicks to Zangief’s head, knocking him back but not knocking him over this time. Sagat stood confidently, waiting for Zangief to come at him. He could calculate the sluggish man’s moves. Sagat hesitated a moment too late when Zangief bear hugged him and flipped him over his back; Sagat crashed head first to the ground.
“Ohyah!” cried the wrestler as he flipped over a second time.
“Your kicks are no match for me, Thai-man! I grind your brains into the ground!” said Zangief, continuing to attack.
I watched as the blood began to pulse in my ears and my heart pounded so hard, I thought it would come out of my chest. I licked my lips as the blood sprayed from each fighter with impact. I was close enough to the cage that it fell upon me like glorious red rain. I licked it from my lips, and rubbed some on my fingers, admiring the gloriously red color.
I watched them so intently that I thought for just a moment they might notice.
Sagat hardly had the strength to recover. Pulling himself up with his arms, he growled. Slowly, he stood up and Zangief laughed at him.
“Tiger Knee!” cried Sagat, kneeing him in the chest. Zangief flew back.
As the Russian wrestler fell, Sagat pelted him with three strong blasts from his fists. He fell to the ground with a massive thud, unconscious. Sagat had won. A short fight, as it was, but Zangief seemed to be no match for the former Muay Thai Champion.
A thunderous roar of applause and cheers came from the crowd. Sagat stood proudly, laughing and I thought I caught a gleam in his eye.
“You can taste it, can't you?” said Marc Antoni Gauldera as he approached me. I was not sure if he was referring the blood that had sprayed upon my lips or something else perhaps. “This too will be your destiny, if you want it.”
“I want it!” I exclaimed.
“I'm glad you still do.” he said, “Let me teach you and you will be able to defeat men twice the size of them!”
Twice the size? They weren't tall enough? I was already 6 feet tall by then, nearing my full-grown height. I nodded eagerly.
“Very good. I must attend to this for now, but I will come and find you when the time is right.” he said and went into the cage, officially declaring Sagat the winner.
I marveled at his words to me and wondered how soon it would be...
TO BE CONTINUED...
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine