Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

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
- 6
- 7
- 8
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 awoke the next morning to a familiar feeling of warmth around my chest. I looked to see Mother's arms wrapped tightly around me, her chest pressed against my back. I squeezed her hand lovingly and she stirred from behind.
“Time to get up, Mama.” I said softly.
“Mm, no, Vega. No, I don't want to get up.” she murmured. “I want to stay in bed all day.”
I smiled bitterly at her last comment.
“Mother, you're in my bed, remember?”
“Oh, so I am.” she replied sleepily without so much a care, and without opening her eyes. I sat up and stretched with a yawn. I tucked my shirt into my tux slacks and unbraided my hair to sort out the tangled mess it had become, letting it fall around me for the time being; Mother resembled something of a disheveled princess; her hair hang messily down her face, her makeup smeared across it, her dress was wrinkled, stained, and torn.
“Vega, you don't have to get up now. Go back to sleep, darling...” she murmured, gesturing towards me lazily with her arms.
I chuckled as I turned to look back over my shoulder at her. She rolled onto her side, tucking her arms under her pillow. I knew she would have loved nothing better than for me to come and snuggle beside her, but I really wasn't tired enough to go back to sleep; after the turmoil of last night, or what was early this morning, I slept more deeply than I had in a long time. The morning sun beamed brightly through the windows, washing the room in a brightness I haven't seen in a long time. Mother had pulled the covers over her face.
I sat there a moment, listening to her soft breathing and I remembered the bag we took in the hurry we were in, realizing that we had nothing else with us. I had not seen this bag since I was very young, and I hoped there would be something, anything to use. I stared down at the little bag for a moment, almost afraid to open it. Finally, I opened it to dig through its contents; a few dresses and what looked like a child's clothing—my clothing—was all it contained. I threw it back onto the bed and turned back to Mother.
“Mother, there's nothing in here! Just some toddler clothing!” I cried as a sudden panic began to wash over me.
“What?” she exclaimed, bolting upright, frantically brushing the hair from her face. “That can't be right!”
“Why didn't you ever update this bag? How could you do this?”
“No no no!” she cried, flying out of bed and rushing over to the bag, frantically rummaging through it. “That can't be right! That can't be!”
“I don't understand!” I cried, my voice strained, rubbing the back of my neck. “How could you? I just can't...”
“Ohhh, Vega, my darling! I'm so sorry! I really thought I had... I wanted to leave. I planned to leave not long after you were born...but, as I was packing, I knew we had no where to go, no way to live. I did not want to put you through that kind of life!”
I turned to her.
“And what kind of life is this? What kind of life did you have letting a man beat you, rape you, and almost kill you daily?” I hissed. I could see her tear up. “God! Are you some kind of masochist? Do you enjoy pain?” She gasped and covered her mouth as I began to stomp off to the bathroom. I braced myself against the counter and stared at my hands, my jaw clenching. I saw her coming towards me and so I slammed the door.
“I'm sorry, Vega! You know I wanted to leave, but I couldn't let you suffer!” I heard her plea.
“Me?” I shouted from the bathroom. “Me? How would I have known any different? I would only suffer without you.” I opened the door and she threw her arms around my neck desperately. I recoiled and shoved her off violently.
“Don't.” I growled.
“Don't be like that! Oh Vega, please try to understand! I couldn't leave, I didn't have a choice!” she continued pleading and put her hand to my shoulder. The very presence of her touch infuriated me. I turned away from her quickly.
“You could leave, you did have a choice!” I roared.
“There were circumstances beyond my control,Vega! Things you could never understand!”
“You're right. I don't even understand why you married him!”
She was sobbing again, shaking her head.
“You could never know what I had to do...I-I had to...”
I shoved her away and then grabbed her by the wrists, backing her towards the wall and then slamming her against it.
“What don't I know, Mother? Tell me! Dear God! You really are a masochist, aren't you? Is this what you want?” I held her in a tight grip and she continued to whimper and plead all the more. “Hmm? Is it?”
“No, Vega! Please, my love, don't do this...I beg you.” and I could see her eyes widen and gleam. I felt a certain sense of intoxication then, the essence of power seem to flow through me as my righteous indignation grew.
How dare she make me suffer all these years? To make me suffer for her sins before I even knew I was her savior. To make me bleed for nothing...
I had a sick feeling in my stomach as I realized my father's words were coming true—she was nothing but a gold-digging whore! She wanted money more than me, more than our happiness.
“I didn't mean for it to happen! I didn't!”
She continued to plead with me, but I could not hear them through the blood rushing in my ears and my heart thumping my chest.
“Liar...” I growled. “Liar!”
I slapped her across the face, the force of which nearly made my hand go numb. She stumbled backwards as I barreled towards her, striking at whatever I could reach. Mother blocked her face with her arms, trying to shield herself. As she tried to move away, she tripped and landed in a heap on the floor. She lay curled in a ball with her arms covering her face, sobbing hard.
“Stop, Vega, please!” she cried. “Have mercy! Where is my beautiful boy, my beautiful savior? Where is he?”
My jaw and fist clenched as I stood over her, my burning anger beginning to well in my mouth like hot venom as I picked up the bag and beat it over her a few times and threw it at her head, the contents scattering.
“There's nothing in here! Nothing!” I roared.
Slowly, she uncovered herself and looked up at me, pulling herself up on her arms.
“Vega, the next time you beat me, you had better kill me. I can't...I can't live like this...” she said softly.
Her words seemed to cool my temper and I fell to my knees beside her. I sat there, panting, and staring at the floor.
“Mother...don't say that. Please don't say that...I could never...”
Mother reached up suddenly, slapping my face. I was stunned but after my outburst, I had no more anger left—only my guilt.
“So help me, Vega! So help me...por dios! If you ever hurt me like that again--” she hissed, collapsing on her arms.
She held her hand to her face as the corner of her mouth began to bleed. I reached out to touch her and she flinched; I felt my heart fall into my stomach.
“Forgive me, Mother.” I whispered as she wept.
Tearfully she looked back up at me, a streak of blood poised itself on the corner of her mouth and she pulled away as I reached to touch her again.
“You're bleeding.” I said.
“No, don't-don't touch.” she replied again, shielding her face.
“Please, let me see.” I pleaded, trying to pry her hand away from her face.
I took her hand in mine and kissed it, but she would not look at me. Gently, ever so gently, I lifted her chin to inspect the damage I had done and she kept her eyes closed. I admired that streak of blood poised at the corner of her mouth, shining like a deep red jewel. I could not deny the allure it held, its sweetness, but fought the temptation to taste it.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered again. “Forgive me.” I could see her fear and hesitation in her eyes as I leaned forward slowly and I kissed her cheeks.
My tenderness did nothing to console her however, as she continued to sob. I could taste the salt of her tears, and the sweetness of her blood on my lips, as divine as ever. I could not understand her lack of acknowledgment, hoping for some sign that I would be forgiven. Then, like an answered prayer, she reached up and stroked my face, staring tearfully up at me. I was relieved as she threw her arms around my neck, burying her face in my chest. I could feel her desperately fondling my long hair as she cried, it cascading over her like a darkly golden waterfall.
“I..I need you...” she sobbed, “and it sickens me. You are all I have and I hate it, but I need you.” she said and her tone was both sad and angry at once.
It was in this bitterness I could hear the same sad desperation that I had always known. As well as hunger, a hunger I knew she could not deny, if only for true love and affection. Our love was the purest and truest love out there, a bond that could never be torn asunder, bound by flesh and blood, stronger than any lovers', stronger than family; though I knew that she hungered for more.
“I need you too, Mama.” I replied as my heart welled up in my throat and my chest tightened as I held her close.
It seemed hours had passed before we let go, sitting in silence. In reality, I'm sure it was only a few minutes, but feeling as close to her as I did just then, it was like an eternity.
“Oh, Vega. I don't know what we're going to do. I don't know, I don't know. It's my fault. All my fault for letting this happen to us. We're all alone now, we don't have our passports or clothing to wear!” Her tone became increasingly louder and I could see the panic spreading across her face again. I put my hands on her arms as I pulled her to her feet.
“It's okay, Mama, it's okay.” I consoled her. “I'll take care of you now.”
I wiped her her tears away and kissed her cheeks feeling almost paternal as I did so. She smiled weakly, chuckling as she looked at her dress.
“I'm a mess!” she exclaimed and she broke into hysteric laughter.
I smiled back at her.
“You're perfect.”
“You're so funny! Oh, I really need a hot bath right now a-and a new dress!”
“Well, I mean it.” I replied seriously.
“I know you do, darling; even if I do take a bath, whatever shall I wear?”
I pulled out one of the dresses, a blue short-sleeve dress, with a distinctly 60's style. I frowned as it dawned on me. She really hadn't touched this bag in at least 16 years!
“What about this?” I asked, holding it out. She saw it and gasped.
“No, not that one. I can't wear it. It's horridly out of style, and...” and she trailed off.
“Well, we can go out and find new clothes, better ones.” I replied simply.
“It's impossible! How am I to go out looking like this?” she asked, holding the sides of her skirt.
“Well, you could go out in your lingerie!” I exclaimed, falling back on the bed in laughter. Mother scoffed and rolled her eyes at me.
“You are so crude sometimes! All right,I'm going to take a bath now.” as she went into the bathroom.
“Okay, Mother.” I said with a grin. It was a strange kind of happiness I felt just then, almost surreal. Perhaps it was giddiness, a relief from the horror we had been living before, I wasn't sure, but my heart soared at the thought of our new found freedom together.
I decided to put on my tux again, realizing there was not much else to be done. How we were to survive in Monaco like this, I did not know. It was a fact I did not wish to declare to Mother as she was already worried.
An hour later, she emerged from the bathroom in a white bathrobe and her hair wrapped in a towel. Her skin glowed with all her makeup gone. Mother smiled as she saw me in my tux, which soon faded as I turned to her and she saw the blood stains on it.

“The blood!” she cried, “The blood!”

I brushed it calmly as if I were brushing away lint and put on my jacket, folding it closed. She walked up to me and touched my face solemnly and then ran her hands over the stains, taking a rag and beginning to rub vigorously over it.
“Mother,” I said, gently taking her hands away. “It's not going to come out.”
She looked at me mournfully and nodded, taking the towel from her hair.
“You should get dressed. You'll feel better!”
“I-I don't think I can do this!” she cried.
“Mother, we'll get you a new one, remember? Even prettier...maybe a nice blue one?”
She scoffed at me and picked up the disheveled gown, disappearing once more into the bathroom.

Soon, we were ready to go, with my mother's hair back in place and her makeup done. She even wore the tiara in her hair. She stood at the full-length mirror and prodded at her face, looking at the heinous black bruise forming near her eye.
“Here, Mother.” I said and handed her her large-framed sunglasses. She wrapped her arm around mine and once again, we made our entrance back into society.
We entered the elevator and made our way downstairs, stepping out like celebrities—well, I was a celebrity—after all.
We walked cautiously as people stared at us. Although it was morning, I still saw people dressed in gowns and tuxes, no doubt from the night before. Soon it began as it always did when I was in public—the whispering—and I knew soon lights would begin to flash.
“Señor Vega, Maestro!” voices began to shout.
I paid them no heed as we made a deliberate stride towards the door. It was no better as we went outside as I heard a collective gasp and then my name,over and over again.
“Señor Vega! Monsieur! Maestro!” they cried again. Men and women standing there in groups, waiting for cabs.
“Please, we have to keep going. I can't look like this in front of them!” Mother whispered to me urgently.
“I know, Mama. I'll try.” I whispered back, knowing just how tenacious my adoring public could get. Ordinarily, I reveled in such thing but I knew we couldn't afford it now.
It was no use. Now they surrounded us from all sides, talking at once, reaching for me, waving pens and papers.
“I'm sorry! No autographs today!” I exclaimed to them as we tried to walk through the crowd.
“Señor, what brings you to Monaco? Is there a bullfight this weekend?” asked a man.
“No,” I replied. “Just on vacation.”
“Who is this woman? Your mistress, Vega?” Mother tried to push through them and keep her sunglasses on at the same time. Then the flashes of light began as people scrambled to take pictures of us.
“Mistress?” Mother cried. I couldn't help but laugh at her flustered expression.

“You are the mistress of the house, aren't you?” I teased and she looked away. “Haven't you always wanted to be the mistress of a famous matador?” I nudged her shoulder playfully and she scolded me.
“Vega!”
It was true that I often enjoyed teasing her, but I did not want to cause too much of a scene this time.
“Shh, Mother! I'll protect you, just be quiet, okay?” I whispered, hoping no one was within ear-shot to hear us.

“Vega! Vega! What happened? Can you tell us why you have blood on your tux?” cried another man, pushing towards me. I didn't see a camera on him fortunately. I felt Mother squeeze my hand nervously, I looked to see her face suddenly turn pale.
I looked down nonchalantly as I thought of a story to tell.
“There was a fight late last night and I was trying to protect this beautiful woman--”
“Vega, stop. You mustn’t!” whispered Mother but I continued, ignoring her.
“We were leaving a restaurant when a man began to harass us. He was drunk, so I thought I could handle him.”
Mother suddenly tore away from me, running back inside the hotel. I followed after, grabbing her by the arm just as she found her way to the hotel restroom.
“Mother, wait!” I cried and she turned back to me sharply.
“Let me go, Vega!” she cried, bursting into the women's bathroom. I stood there as the door slammed in my face. I grimaced as I heard her retching and then the flushing of the toilet. A few moments later she reemerged, the color returning to her face. She looked at me and then proceeded to enter the elevator.
“Where are you going?” I called after her.
“Back to the room. I won't do this. I won't be apart of your lies.”
“We have no choice! Would you rather I tell them what happened?” I cried. She looked at me with a scowl and stepped out of the elevator.
“Vega de Cerna, you'll do no such thing!” she hissed as she approached me.
“No, no, Mother. Of course not! Do you think I want us to get caught?” I cooed and took her hands into mine. She sighed heavily and I turned back towards the door to see the crowd of people pressed against the glass, watching us.
“Come on,” I coaxed her as I led her by the hand back out the door.

We continued on passed the crowds without another word.
It was true that in our haste, I had failed to realize that being a world-famous bullfighter did not make for easy hiding. I knew that my agent was looking for me now, and that probably the police were also. I could not let that stop me, however. I had to protect my mother at all costs, even my own life. Even if the police found me guilty, God found me justified.
We were able to find some new clothes at the fine boutiques in the area, and I exaggerated my story as the tailor questioned my stained tux. Mother gave me a few concerned looks the first few times I told it but soon she stopped. I continued to have enthusiastic fans approach me, though as we paraded through the stores, few actually stopped us. I kept my promise to Mama, however and we did not leave the room for quite awhile after that day.

TO BE CONTINUED...
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine