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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
- 10
- 11
- 12
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.

I knocked on her door after the ball that night. The air was thick with tension when I entered, finding her sitting at her vanity table. She was still in her ballgown and she was just sitting there, staring at the mirror.
“Hello, Mother,” I said, moving by her side and kissing her cheek.
“Hello, darling. Did you enjoy the fight?” she asked, I could hear the disdain in her voice. I hesitated to answer, knowing full well we would end up in another argument.
“You look beautiful, Mama.” I replied, ignoring her question. Mama chuckled, turning to me, crossing her legs and dangling her foot. I watched her foot dangling there, like an angry cat switching its tail.
“Oh, you're so clever.” she said, rolling her eyes, and then she looked straight at me. “Who was the girl you were with?”
I wished she were asking about the fight again and I stared at my feet, avoiding her eyes. I pondered my response, trying to avoid her scathing venom.
“Just some random girl.” I said and she smiled but I felt uneasy. I moved behind her and began to remove the pins from her hair, looking for a way to smooth out the situation.
I watched her hair cascade down around her shoulders in soft golden waves. Picking up a wooden-handled brush with smooth bristles, I saw it had a V engraved on it, just as my mother's did.
“I see,” she replied, her voice dripping in contempt but I knew better than to continue.
I gathered her hair in my hand and began to run the brush through. She threw back her head with a sigh; her eyes closed, lips parted. With each delicate stroke, I made it shine like the flaxen gold it was, doing my best not to pull. I saw the happiness on her face.
She opened her eyes again, watching me still with her sweet smile.
“So gentle you are, Vega.” she cooed.
I ran my hands through her hair, enjoying its smoothness and then I wrapped my arms around her neck, burying my nose in her hair. She laid her hand over mine.
“My beautiful boy.” she cooed and I could hear such pride in her voice. “Am I not as beautiful as you?” There was yet another impish gleam in her eyes.
“Even more!” I exclaimed. I knew she was trying to trap me but I did my best to counter her.
I glanced down to see faint red marks on her neck where Señor Gauldera's lips had been. I jerked the brush through her hair and she cried out.
“¡Ay!” she exclaimed, “Vega, gently!” and I murmured an apology.
She stood up, taking the brush from my hand.
He isn't fit to touch you, I thought.
“Basta. Gracias, my darling. That's enough for now.” Mother replied with an exasperated sigh.
I wondered when Mother started speaking Castillian again.
She then turned her back to me and gestured at the zipper.
“Would you mind?” she asked.
“No.” I said. I began to unzip her dress.
“Perdóneme.” said a voice at the doorway and we looked to see Marc Antoni standing there.
“I hope I'm not interrupting...” he said and Mother turned to face him, trying to zip her dress back up without him seeing.
“Bonsoir, buenas noches! No, not at all.” she said with a coy smile. I rolled my eyes at her and he smiled back, giving me a friendly nod.
“I only wish to say goodnight to you both. The ball was a wonderful success and all the guests have finally left.”
“I'm glad. Buenas noches, Señor.” she replied.
“Please, call me Marc Antoni now! You are guests in my home. No need for such formality.” he said and she nodded. He looked back at me now, his eyes still gleaming.
“Vega, did you enjoy yourself tonight?”
“Yes, I had a great time.” I replied, trying to suppress most my excitement in front of her.
“I knew you would.” he replied with his same smug smile. “Goodnight!” and he closed the door behind him.
Again I finished unzipping her dress and I watched it fall away from her body into a heap of fabric. She moved to the vanity where her white satin sleeveless nightgown lay on the chair. Mother slipped into it and then looked at me.
“Vega, you look annoyed. What's wrong?” she asked, stroking my face.
“Nothing, Mother.” I murmured and she smiled a knowing smile, looking into my eyes.
Mother loosened my tie and shirt and I took off my coat, throwing it over my shoulder. I looked at her, the words stuck in my throat.
“What?” she asked, smiling. “You look like you want to say something.”
I wanted to tell her that she disappointed me with her behavior that night. She had no right to make me feel guilty for dancing with that girl! Her relentless flirting with Marc Antoni Gauldera was the most nauseating thing I had ever seen. Except, the idea of causing a fight exhausted me. I was already tired enough after the ball.
Again I could not bring myself to speak, and I just shook my head.
She went to the bed and began to turn down the covers.
“Come to bed, then.” she replied with her warm smile beckoning me. I shuffled over to her and kissed her cheek. She put her hands on my shoulders, I knew she was expecting me to answer.
“Good night, Mother.”
“Good night, my love.” she replied and I turned back to her. I could see in her eyes the loneliness hiding there beneath her pleasant smile—she did not want me to go.
I sighed, turning back and leaving to my room.
I lay in my cold, empty bed staring at the ceiling and unable to sleep. It felt strange to be alone, but what else could I do? The last few years, I rarely slept by myself and rarer still was another girl in my bed. Even so, why did it matter? It felt good to be so close to the one person I loved every bit as much as I loved myself.
Like any teenage boy, my mind was always lustful and even as I lay beside my beautiful mother each night, thoughts of other girls—and the things I could do with them filled my head.
Laying in bed this night was no different. The delicious images floating in my mind, a wicked smile beginning to curl the corner of my lips. Yes, I know what you may be thinking, but I was not about to make my mother a party to my twisted trysts! A pure creature such as herself could never comprehend my dark desires.
A knock on the door disrupted my lustful thoughts, but it did not sound like the soft knock of my mother.
To my surprise, Marc Antoni poked his head in my door and I sat up.
“Vega, has your mother gone to bed?” he asked.
“I-I think so.”
“Good.” he said and I could see the sparkle of his eye and his smile even in the darkness.
“Why?” I asked, vexed that he would visit me so late.
“Come with me. I have something I know you'll want to see.” he replied. I sat on the edge of the bed and dressed.
Following him downstairs, he led me into the ballroom. He pressed against the wall facing us and it opened to reveal a passageway. It was a narrow stone stairway dimly lit by gas lamps along the walls. The steps seemed to spiral down and down until finally we reached the bottom. We were in a small room lit by hanging light-bulbs from the from the stone ceiling. It looked to be some sort of dungeon. In the center of this room was a chain-link cage.
“This is where you will learn to fight.”
I entered the cage and I walked around its perimeter, running my hand through the chain-link.
“Here?” I asked.
“Yes--well, maybe not here just yet. You'll need plenty of space to learn the moves.”
I turned to him and crossed my arms with a smirk.
“So when do I start?”
I watched a smile creep upon his face.
“Anytime you want. We'll have to be careful, of course. God forbid your precious mother find out!” he replied and I knew he was mocking the love for my mother, which was a dangerous move indeed.
“You leave her alone!” I hissed, stepping into his face. He smirked and folded his arms.
“Leave her alone? Your mother? Why should I? She's a grown woman and I think she can decide for herself who she wants to be with.”
I could feel my blood boiling and the heat rising in my body.
“You don't know anything!” I exclaimed.
I threw a few punches and each time, he swerved and ducked them. My frustration only grew at this, and so I swung madly until I was out of breath.
“You-you don't deserve her.” I panted.
Marc Antoní stood calmly, almost like he had not moved at all. I could not understand how he remained like that while he was being attacked. It didn't make sense.
“Spoken like a master! Ay mí, but, you are just a boy. I hardly think you know who is and isn't deserving of your mother's love.” he replied.
Well, I certainly was deserving of her love in every sense of the word. I knew it deep down in my bones. I also knew that she deserved so much more in her life than was given; she deserved only good, pure things—and he was neither.
“I know far more than you think, Señor! I won't let you steal her away! My mother is gentle and delicate. I have always been there for her, and I always will.”
Marc Antoni continued to stare at me, unmoved by my rage.
“Her little protector, I see. A fine matador.” he said and I could still hear the sarcasm in his tone. “Her valiant white knight ready and willing, but does she not see the tarnish beginning to show on your brilliant armor?”
I swung again and missed. He ducked and swerved with ease, my punches hitting the air, and with a quick movement, he laid a punch into my stomach. I staggered back, reflexively holding my stomach and before I could look up, he laid an uppercut punch on my jaw, throwing me back. I finally laid a punch to his jaw and I smirked in satisfaction, ready for the next hit. Joy was short-lived when he kicked me with a roundhouse kick, sending me off my feet and face-first to the floor. I rose; the air was knocked from my lungs, and I coughed and sputtered, holding my nose with one hand.
“You bastard! My face!” I cried. “I'll kill you!”
“One of the main features of savate is the kicks. It is kick-boxing after all.” he said, removing my hand from my nose, and the blood poured down my face. I wiped my fingers across my lips, and then licked them.
“How does it taste, Vega?”
At this point, I did not know how I really felt. Just the pain and surprise from the hit, and yet there was a growing sense of elation inside of me. The blood streamed down my mouth and began to stain my shirt, so I removed it.
“Mm, delicioso! Tastes like red wine. I want more. I want it.” I said, raising my hands and preparing myself. “I want yours.”
“Good. Then, I will oblige! My blood you will earn.” he replied, raising his leg for a high kick. Again I was knocked in the face but the force only jarred me.
“Not the face!” I cried, rubbing my jaw and feeling my teeth.
“Pretty little boy!” he sneered, “Do you think your opponents will care where they hit you?”
“Not my face, damn you!” I screamed back at him, spitting blood on his face.
He wiped it away and I could finally see the signs of annoyance appearing.
“Oh, I see the darkness in your eyes, Vega. I see such hunger. A blood-thirsty hunger that your precious mother could never stand a chance against! You know this is true, too, don't you? Why else come to me, then? Am I not your enemy? Your rival? You know the only way to contain such darkness is to succumb to it.”
I could not disagree with him, even if I wanted to then. For once he was right, but what I felt wasn't darkness. It wasn't darkness at all; but even standing there, mere inches from his face, he continued.
“You can't protect her, Vega. You can't save her. You can't even save yourself. Not unless you succumb. Become as you were meant to be—strong, brave, and hungry. Keep your hunger, Vega, for it will forever drive you...but until then, you must let fate lie where it will.”
“Fate? What? No! I was sworn to protect her, and if I have to my soul to keep her from the likes of you, I will.”
“I think you've already done that.” he said with a smirk. “Tell me, is it God that made you her savior?”
“It does not matter now; heaven, hell, I was born to protect her, keep her from pain.”
“And if it's too late? How then would you save her?”
“Too late? No! She's-she's--”
“She's what?” he cooed in his smug voice.
“Mine!” was all I could manage to stammer in my bewilderment and rage. Marc Antoni continued to stand there, coolly watching my reaction.
“Yours? Oh! I wonder what your dear mother would say? If she's yours, then show me.” he drawled.
“What?” I hissed. The last time my father uttered such a thing, I nearly vomited.
“Show me. Show me how much you love her--defend her honor if you dare!” Marc Antoni swung at my head and I ducked in time to feel his fist connecting with my jaw.
I barreled forward at him, madly punching towards him. Each time he blocked my attack with his hands.
“Weak. Your temper will get the better of you, Vega. I warned you; I know all your weaknesses and now I can go in for the kill.” he said, and he looked extremely serious, his cold green eyes were dark and gleaming with an ominous light at me, all the smugness suddenly gone from his face.
I stood there, my fists clenched and ready, but my mouth stood open, trying to form words that would not come out. A strong punch to the stomach and a sweep of his leg, I was now on the ground again, panting, the wind knocked from me.
“When you're angry, you can't focus, and when you can't focus, your opponent wins, see?” he said, helping me up. I held my stomach and glared at him.
“So, what do I do?” I asked.
“First up, learn to defend yourself. An enemy can use more than physical attacks to get you; you opened yourself up for attack the minute you reacted to your mother.” he said and he grinned his crocodile like smile; I was relieved again at its appearance.
“You started it!” I hissed.
“That's true; I did, but the best fighter doesn't start the fight—the best fighter is the one who finishes it. Come now, Vega. I think you've had enough for tonight. If we bruise you up too badly, your mother will wonder what happened.”
The next morning, I joined Mother and Marc Antoni on his veranda for breakfast. My jaw was sore and my lip was fat. There was no way I could hide it now and I tried to tell myself that it would not scar. The idea of one single scar on my face mortified me though.
“Good morning, my Narcís.” she said as I took a seat next to her. Marc Antoní sat across from us and nodded at me in acknowledgment as he chewed his food.
“Good morning, Moth--”
“Déu meu!” she cried, a loud clank against the plate as she dropped her knife and fork. My heart thumped and I tried to avoid her stare.
“What-what happened to your face?” she said, turning my face to her.
“I-I wasn't watching where I was going and I tripped on one of the rugs in the hallway.”
I could hear Marc Antoní snickering without a sound across the table already. It had to be the worst excuse I could come up with.
“Oh my darling, you must be more careful!” said Mother, squeezing my hand while it was under the table. Marc Antoni drank his coffee and I could see that gleam in his eye again. I squeezed her hand hard.
TO BE CONTINUED...
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine