Scene #2047: Dangerous Tyrant! Mysterious Vega

Owner	Pose
Vega	Earth-1987! The marvelous world of our near future! The visitor Domon Kasshu is not out of place here, not by a long shot. The whole world feels charged with a strength of its own, a natural energy that seems to fill every space. On televisions, flickering in the window of poorly-lit shops, images of famous warriors pass - Sumo Legend E. Honda, Emperor Of Muay Thai Sagat, and others. Indeed, somewhere down the street, the sounds of people fighting echoes loudly - and no one is stopping the two competitors from beating each other senseless! The crowd forms a ring around the Street Fighters, cheering loudly as they duel with martial arts prowess surpassing that of ordinary humans. But where is the contact point? 'Vanant' - the mysterious contact who claimed to have information on Domon Kasshu's brother - must be here somewhere. But where?
Domon Kasshu	Domon's figure is kept concealed by his red cloak, which, taken with his brooding expression, gives him a rather dour appearance. His brow is set rigidly, forcing his eyes into a glare. If Rain were here, she'd tell him to be more patient. Well, actually, she's not here, because she thought this was a stupid idea. The more the Gundam fighter thinks on it, the more frustrated he gets. Doesn't she want to see his father freed and his traitorous brother brought to justice? Of course she does--she's helping him, isn't she? So why doesn't she take a clear opportunity to find Kyoji? He just... doesn't get her, sometimes. What reason would someone have to lie to him, anyway? And even if they do, he can just fight his way out, like he always does. Speaking of fighting... Domon peers at a crudely drawn poster hastily slapped onto a power pole, snatching it off with a swipe that might be considered contemptuous. "The Strongest Style?" he asks skeptically, staring at the man in the pink gi on the cover. "Sign up now and... get a free T-Shirt?" Domon crumples the poster up and throws it into the trash, figuring that he's doing someone a favor in the act. Anyone who has to sell their martial art probably doesn't have much to offer. Sorry, Sensei Dan. Where is Vanant? The sound of a cheering crowd distracts him from that question--is there something actually interesting here? Yeah. There's something strange about this world--strange but good. There's a kind of energy in the air, the kind of energy one only feels in the midst of a fight. This world, like his, respects martial prowess. He can see it in the ads and in the TVs, and he can hear it in the obnoxious radio spots. And wouldn't you know, there happens to be a fight going on right now! Domon clenches his fists eagerly and approaches the crowd, attempting to get a look at the fight. Perhaps he can test himself when this one's over, or perhaps he can learn something here.
Vega	Dan Hibki's style may not be the strongest, but his enthusiasm, at least, cannot be faulted. As Domon is appreciating the sheer madness of it all, someone comes up alongside him. The man is dressed in unidentifiable street clothes, except for his bowler hat, which he tugs on gently as he stops beside the Gundamfighter. "Domon Kasshu?" The man asks curiously as an E. HONDA - BOOK SIGNING! image flicks up on one of the big electronic billboards. "Mister Vanant's been waitin' for you." The man rattles off an address, then throws away "The box seat. You're expected." By the time Domon's looked at the man, he's vanished into the crowd. He's much too generic-looking to follow. The address leads Domon to the docks. The sun's already going down by the time Domon gets there, glistening on the water. It's...well, the /shady-looking building/ is kind of...shady. Inside, however, there's the unmistakable sound of battle. An old man, who appeared to be sleeping at the door, looks up at Domon and nods. Then he scoots out of the way and gestures for Domon to enter.
Domon Kasshu	Domon Kasshu quirks an eyebrow at the old man. This all seems very suspicious, even to someone as bullheaded as Domon. Then again... maybe the secrecy is because Vanant doesn't want to make an enemy out of Kyoji? The destructive capacity of the Dark Gundam is unlike anything Domon's world has ever seen, much less any other world. When he thinks about it like that, this makes a little more sense. He steps into the warehouse. Grunts... shouts... the sound of fists and feet colliding. This is some kind of underground fighting circuit, isn't it? Box seats--if there are people fighting here, then there must be spectators too. Maybe they're rich people with money to spend, or maybe they're fellow fighters waiting for their turn to get in on the action. It doesn't matter to Domon. He's expected in the box seats, so he looks for a spot to sit down.
Vega	Domon doesn't have to look long. He's ushered up to the box - an /actual/ box, overhanging an actual underground arena - by a pair of men in uniforms. The uniforms don't make sense to Domon, nor does the pin on their chests - a skull with a lightning-bolt forehead and wings - but the iconography is probably not...entirely comfortable. They're clearly professional soldiers - but for who? For what army? Domon is ushered into the box just as one of the men down in the arena lets out some kind of glowing punch. It probably reminds Domon a lot of the Shining Finger, though it lacks that potency, that demanding force, and it's just kind of a punch. It breaks through the other man's guard, sending him flat on his back. The man with the glowing punch jumps on the other man and holds him down until a bell rings. But, as Domon enters the box, there's something slightly more pressing in front of him. A massive man sits in one of the comfortable plush seats, clad in a red-and-black military uniform of some sort. The man is tall, and broad, and looks like the sort of person you'd expect to see in the ring, not the sort of person holding a glass of wine as a literal butler attends to him. The butler lowers his head to the man in the hat and steps away, leaving them to their conversation. "Ah...so, you've arrived, Domon." That voice is the voice of someone who has never had a kind thought in his life. That deep, growling voice oozes with menace and power, more like a monster's voice than a man's. It doesn't belong in the throat of a human being, and it's entirely likely that the person sitting in that comfortable chair, drinking expensive-looking red wine, is not in fact a human. "Please. Take a seat. I am happy to offer you refreshments. I imagine you would not like to talk on an empty stomach, especially after your long journey. Was it.../pleasant/?" "I would apologize for the otherwise-squallid surroundings, but I think you will find this venue most palatable indeed. I have all the ameneties you could possibly require."
Domon Kasshu	Are these guys soldiers? They are. Maybe they're part of this world's military, but what are they doing in a warehouse by the sea? Is this place some kind of training facility for them? He is rather the opposite of genre savvy, so all of the obvious Bad Guy signs go right over his head. Hey, they probably just have those skulls because the government thought it would scare other countries. Skulls are pretty cool, he supposes. And then he meets the man in the uniform. His attention is, just for a moment, focused on the fight below, enough that the dictator can clearly see his trap was effective. Yes, the man hungers for combat, whether out of cruelty or thrill derived therein. Domon turns when he's spoken to, his glance betraying a certain impetuousness rather like a couple of youths with a preference for gis. But, unlike them, his comes not from playfulness, but from anger. It seethes around him, his every moment an exercise in suppression, his entire environment a host of potential matches for this powder keg. He regards Vega with a frown, taking a seat as is offered. "It was my first time through a warpgate," he says, tossing his cloak aside to reveal his clothes--hand-me-downs a few rough stitch jobs away from being rags. The young man wears the clothes of someone much older, his crusade having taken a toll in more ways than just his fiery demeanor. "You must be Vanant," he says. He opens his mouth to decline the other's hospitality, but his growling stomach opposes him. In that moment, Kasshu reveals some more of himself--the young loner with nothing to his name but talent and passion. Either he neglected to eat before he came here, or he just didn't have the money. He sighs. Ulube trusted Rain with the government stipends, and for good reason. Without her frugal, cautious spending, each one would be burnt up in his crusade for vengeance. "Food would be nice."
Vega	If this was a trap, Domon wouldn't be getting wine. That much, he can be assured of. The waiter walks over to him with a cup on a tray, and some warm, local Japanese food. It's just some fried fish, dumplings, rice, and soup, but it's local, it's warm, and it tastes fantastic. You'd never get this kind of food in an underground shithole boxing ring, even with rich people there. No, this is food that comes when you're sitting in the owner's private box as a personal guest. It's not poisoned, either - even Domon's senses are probably acute enough to tell. There's no hidden poisons, no serums, no dark trickery. The Dictator is many things, but when he takes an interest in someone, it isn't so he can murder them with poison. Poison is for bystanders and cowards. Vega kills worthy enemies with his bare hands. "An alias for your convenience," Vega confirms in his low, growling voice. He can't keep the menace out of it. If you took 'menace' out of Vega's voice, you'd have...silence. It's not an inflection, or intentional intimidation, just a quality of his voice that he can't seem to - or can't be bothered to - remove. If he had word bubbles, the bubble would be bla and purple. "Take a seat, young man," the monster in man's form offers, gesturing to the comfortable-looking chair next to him. He still hasn't turned his eyes away from the fight to look at Domon, "Enjoy the show. We have several promising fighters here tonight, all hoping for the same - an invitation to the World Warrior tournament." "Your brother, I have heard, may be a threat to that tournament. I understand that he has with him a superweapon of terrible power. I am...concerned." Vega inclines his head slightly. "Can you tell me more about this weapon?"
Domon Kasshu	Thinking quite like an animal (and well he should, having spent so much time among them in his youth), the Gundam fighter immediately eats since there are no glaring red flags. Domon's eating habits are arguably as savage as his appearance. At the very least he doesn't hastily stuff food into his mouth, but it's clear that some years have passed since he last sat at a proper table and ate like a normal person. He manhandles the chopsticks, eating with such speed that one might question whether or not he was actually /tasting/ the food--but that anger about him quells to a low broil as he does so. The young man /is/ capable of enjoying things, evidently. He looks up from his demolished meal to watch the fight, giving Vega a sidelong glance. Domon takes the offered seat to watch the fight. "Kyoji is a threat to everyone," he says. "He killed our mother and caused our father to be imprisoned in cryogenic stasis." Domon closes his eyes tightly, clenching his fist. Of course Kyoji would seek to disrupt other worlds. Of course Domon would believe someone who says they're concerned about Kyoji. "You've got good reason to be worried, Vanant. The Dark Gundam is the ultimate weapon. Kyoji designed it with three principles: self-recovery, self-multiplication and self-evolution. Last year, my brother used it to attack the colony of Neo-Japan. The mobile suits that came to respond... were almost completely wiped out. Dark Gundam escaped to Earth without incident."
Vega	Vega doesn't comment on the man's table manners. There were so many more important things to Vega than 'eating habits'. Besides, Vega barely ate anymore himself. Nutrients and other things were handled...differently...for him, now. Now that he was something more than human. Now that he was... Well. Domon's sidelong glance gives him some important information about Vega - namely, Vega has no pupils. The area around his eyes is slightly stretched and strained, as if his temples were containing something more than simply blood. His eyes, the windows to the soul, are nothing but featureless white voids - and he most definitely doesn't seem to be blind. Even the most capable blind person would presumably have some trouble watching a fight, after all. Vega sets his wine down on the waiter's tray and folds his fingers in front of him. His legs cross, a motion entirely for Domon's benefit. Vega didn't need such motions to think. Vega's mind was always moving. "I see. So this Dark Gundam is a superweapon capable of growing and evolving all on its own. Something with the power to transform and reproduce, as though it was alive." Vega's fingers tap together, slowly. "What, then, does your brother desire? Power? Domination? A man does not simply steal such a powerful weapon without a purpose. Tell me, Domon - what brought this devil to my world?"
Domon Kasshu	Domon demonstrates something else--that he's gullible. "Domination," he says. "I have it on the authority of the Neo-Japan government that he wants to dissolve the United Colony Federation and place himself at the ruler. Which means... he's either here to hide from them while he consolidates resources, or he's expanded his ambitions." Domon watches as the fight below them plays out, and doesn't think of the implications of the word 'below' with regards to Vega's disposition. He frowns a bit at the discovery, remembering something he'd heard on the radio channel about being 'augmented.' Could this man be one such example of augmentation technology mentioned by Karian? Maybe.
Vega	If Vega's been augmented, there's no other sign of it. He's certainly muscular, but it carries with it a sense of actual power, power earned with brutal and difficult training. He doesn't seem to be a man who simply became powerful. A grin grows across his face at the word 'expanded ambitions'. "And that would be terrible," Vega's throaty, deep voice observes. Down in the ring, there's a furious exchange of karate and judo before the judo guy opens up some kind of giant flying kick on the karate guy. Vega turns away from it, putting those unsettlingly-empty eyes directly on Domon. "When you find your brother, what do you intend to do? Kill him? Arrest him and turn him over to your Neo-Japan? Take the Dark Gundam as your own?" "Permit me some idle curiousity. This thing has arrived on my world, and I am easily intrigued by those who would chase such a power. It is my experience that all people seek power for some reason or another, even in their everyday lives." Vega leans back in the chair, his grin widening. His teeth are, erm...white. And big. "I can tell that you are no different. You have the bearing of a man of strength about you. I imagine you have trained very hard to gain such power. Warriors can always tell, after all." Something buzzes near Vega. He waves his hand at it. "My soldier is coming up as we speak. He'll be able to tell you more momentarily. But I really am quite curious. You have piqued my interest, Domon, as much as your brother has made me wary."
Domon Kasshu	Vega's question... incites Domon. There's no other word for it. His voice, as opposed to the venemous baritone of the dictator, is youth. It's passion. It's roaring anger barely constrained, the violent and ephemeral spray of molten earth from an active volcano. "I want... to MAKE HIM PAY!" His fist slams against the arm of the seat, fast enough to call into question whether or not he's in control of his outburst. "He did more than kill our mother and shame our father--he left me without a home to come back to. I can never forgive him for that. I can /never/ forgive him. When I'm finished with him, Neo Japan can have the rest, if there /is/ any. And I'll make sure there are no traces of his evil left, here or anywhere." He fumes, the anger slowly simmering down to a point where the Gundam fighter can control it. He's not sorry for yelling. Perhaps he didn't even realize he did. Volatile. Uncontrollable. But not unable to be directed, it seems. In the moments of quiet, as he once more occupies himself with the fight below, something said earlier distracts him from his reverie. Warriors can always tell. "So that's why you have this set up," he says. "You want to see who the strongest fighters are. They come here to prove themselves, then they do it again in your World Warrior Tournament. You're a warrior, and you want to fight the best... don't you?" Domon looks away from the fight, because it's no longer the most interesting thing here. "You might wear a uniform, but you're far from a bureaucrat."
Vega	The seat is not made to withstand people of Vega and Domon's power casually throwing anger around. The arm of the chair shatters under his punch, shrapnel and cloth going everywhere. The armrest just...erupts. Hurriedly, the waiter begins to clean it up, not meeting Vega or Domon's eyes. Apparently the staff is...unsurprised by something like this. Underneath his hat, Vega's eyebrow rises, and his massive grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. "You want vengeance," Vega observes, "As is your right. You want to break him." "I am willing to assist you with this." "I have, as you can see, quite a lot of reach. My organization is very powerful, Domon, and most extensive. We have eyes...everywhere." "And your brother is a threat to you and to me, and all that I have built." Vega waves his hand expansively. "I will help you on your quest. I have but one request." A dark, ominous chuckle escapes his lips at Domon's inquiry. "I see you have already guessed it. Yes, you are quite right. I am, indeed, no mere bureaucrat. I am as much a warrior as you. And when I see those strong enough to challenge me..." Vega's upturned hand curls into a fist. Muscles bulge at the sudden motion, both under his jacket and uniform and from the skin around his fingers. "It excites me. The prospect of battling such foes is the greatest pleasure of all...except for defeating them, of course." "I want you to fight in the World Warrior Tournament. I want to see your skill firsthand, as we search for your brother. And I want to experience your skill once you have found and defeated him." "I trust that is.../amenable/."
Domon Kasshu	Just as expected, appealing to the fighter in Domon earns his trust. Domon watches as the waiter picks up the remnants of the chair's armrest. He's not going to apologize--he meant to do that. He needed to break something, or... he needed to break something. End of discussion. "I'm glad I have your assistance... Vanant. But you don't need to offer it as a reward. I've always wanted to make myself better. To test myself. If you want the same thing, then you don't even have to ask me to join this Tournament of yours. When it starts, I'll be there. And I'll meet you in the finals."
Vega	Vega doesn't seem very offended. He probably has more than enough money to replace something as simply as a chair in an underground street fighting arena. Given that he has an underground street fighting arena...yeah. Yeah. "Good. Good. I look forward to seeing your boast come true, Domon. I look forward to seeing your power. I have no doubt you will meet my wildest expectations." Vega's fingers uncurl, and he reaches over to pluck his glass of wine off the tray. He takes a steady sip. A man in uniform enters and immediately gives a salute, pressing his fist over his chest. He bows his head to Domon, then presents him a map of a city. Probably somewhere in Africa? "Sir," the man says, "This is where I sighted your brother. Black hair, slightly spiky, with large eyebrows, yes sir?" If Domon is paying attention, he might notice the soldier is literally describing Domon. "Is there anything he would want in Africa?"
Domon Kasshu	Domon /isn't/ listening. He's listening with his ears, but not his brain. Black hair. Slightly spiky. Large eyebrows. Yes, it could be him--but it's not an entirely inaccurate way of describing Kyoji, either. And maybe, just maybe, Domon wants it so badly he'll ignore what's right in front of him. He wants it to be Kyoji--he wants everything to be nice and neatly arranged for him. He doesn't know what might be in Africa for Kyoji, and he doesn't care. Someone he doesn't know has given him an incredibly vague description, and he doesn't care. He doesn't even think to be suspicious. What reason would Vega have to lie to him? It doesn't occur to him that Sanary might not have shown the picture to Vega, or that Vega might not have even looked at it. He wants it to be Kyoji so badly he'll believe any shit Vega tells him. "That's him exactly." But what would he want in Africa? Why would he be there? "Land," he says. "Land, life, and seclusion." It's the first thing that comes to his mind, the first fabrication he can come up with. He accepts it for himself, because it's so nice and neat and clean. "The Dark Gundam has the ability to use its nanomachines to corrupt living matter--even the landscape. And Africa is so large... I'm /positive./ He's there to hide and use the wildlife as fuel for Dark Gundam... without the risk of being discovered." Maybe Kyoji actually is there--no, there's no maybe. He IS there. He's got to be there, because he's got to be there. He's already eaten Vega's food, but now Domon's eating out of his hands.
Vega	"Well then," Vega observes with that same terrible grin, "It seems as if you have your target." Consume land! Consume living matter! Spread out throughout the world! What a marvelous weapon this Kyouji has made. Vega can't wait to meet him face to face. Only a madman could have made such a glorious machine, such a brilliant engine of violence. To consume the very world around itself and repurpose it for its own needs! And it could evolve to match any circumstance! And it could multiply to ensure that no matter what, no matter where...it would have be. Yes. Yes! YES! This was much too valuable to allow to fall into the hands of anyone else. "I am happy to have my soldiers give you a lift to Africa, if you like. And please," the Dictator adds, "Allow me to dispense with my alias. I wore it only to see if you were one worth my time." Vega rises. He is tall. He is broad. He is.../powerful/. The Dictator, on his feet, exudes a power that he never did on his own. He holds out a massive hand to Domon. "You are one who will be a worthy opponent, and you have provided for me valuable information about a dangerous threat to my tournament. Know me by my true name, not by the alias I wear." "I am Vega." As he speaks his name, the air practically shudders with fear. There's a malevolence in the massive man's name, a malevolence in his powerful form and his terrible white eyes. But for the moment, that malevolence is not turned on Domon Kasshu. That malevolence is bent elsewhere, to a new, and possibly even more terrible, purpose. "I will contact your Neo-Japan and ensure that they know my organization is an ally to them while you search for your brother. As soon as you have found him, contact me. I will not allow such an individual to threaten my tournament, or my world." There's something about the way Vega says 'my world'...probably the emphasis on /my/.
Domon Kasshu	That raw power... it's unmistakable. He hasn't felt this way since he first met Master Asia as a child. The way that this man seems larger than the room without such a thing being true. The confidence in his voice--this man will be a powerful ally, and a thrilling opponent. Perhaps even someone that he can truly express himself with... here's hoping. Domon doesn't usually go for handshakes--but this man, however underhanded his means, has earned the Gundam fighter's trust. Domon stands and gladly offers his hand, taking Vega's firmly and shaking it. He wholly believes the dictator won't allow a threat to /his/ world--if only he was aware of Vega's true intentions. "Vega... I should get going." The young man grabs his cloak and sets it upon his shoulders with a flourish. "If Kyoji is in Africa, I'll find him... and end him." He turns and faces the soldier, nodding. He's ready to start this hunt, utterly unaware of the deception at play. The term 'hook, line, and sinker' comes to mind. No matter what happens here, Vega gets what he wants. For even if Domon discovers the dictator's treachery, his burning thirst for vengeance will only create an entertaining adversary for the tyrant. Domon Kasshu doesn't know what he's getting into--but Vega does. Hopefully, his mistake today won't cost him too much.