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Steven Universe Tiger Millionaire has arrived at the fancy McDonalds that has inexplicably not closed regardless of the attack in the middle of the city from the previous day. That's corporations for ya!

He's carrying a sparkly pink briefcase with a large golden dollar sign in the middle of a white circle. When he enters, he takes a seat at the table, then just drops his briefcase down onto the seat next to him, and props his feet up. "I don't think they take jungle bucks here, so I'll need someone else to pick up the tab. Don't worry, Tiger Millionare /never/ pays his debts!"

He might be talking to himself, or everyone, it's difficult to tell!
Vega      The concerns of money are largely made irrelevant about the time the menacing aura of Vega appears. It heralds him as trumpeters herald a king, a physical presence that goes before him and lets all know that he has arrived. The palpable evil fills the McDonald's like water filling a jug, spilling from the sides with unquestionable menace. Ordinary people, who might normally have cared about a ten-year-old child alone and talking about someone else paying for him, suddenly find themselves most disinterested in this. Fear rolls through the room even before the uniformed man enters.

     And then he does enter, the doors simply opening before him as he floats into the McDonald's. The palpable evil aura makes him seem far larger than he truly is, as though the physical body was merely a shell for something larger-than-life, something glorious, something...*mighty*. Vega's soulless white eyes sweep across the room, his head turning the entire time, as if he needed to move it to look around.

     People cower in silence. Vega, disinterested, turns his eyes upon the teller. The teller's eyes suddenly burst into purple flames, and he stumbles back, jerking upwards like a robot turning on.

     Vega stops in front of 'Tiger Millionaire'. No expression crosses his face. No smile. No frown. No grimace. No grin. Stone-faced, the Dictator of Shadowlaw hovers before 'Tiger Millionaire' as his aura of Psycho Power fills the McDonald's.

     The Fun Pit is most definitely no longer fun for anyone, the Happy Meals are scared out of their wits, and the Big Macs are feeling pretty small right about now.
Steven Universe Tiger Millionaire crosses his arms, definitely feeling that palpable evil, but now with a newfound confidence that wasn't there the day before. The confidence that his goodness can overcome this evil if it creeps into his heart! "So, you've arrived, Mayor Vega." He looks to the clerk, frowning slightly. "I hope that person will be alright, I wouldn't want... the poor people of this fine establishment to stop serving me food! I'd like a Happy Meal amd nuggets, please." he instructs Vega, kind of safely assuming what's going on here.

"So, we should get to business." He grabs his briefcase and slams it onto the table, popping it open to show stacks of 'jungle bucks'. "The first thing you need? More coconuts. Now, hear me out. With more coconuts, you could raise the efficiency of your soldiers by 700%. Just put a straw into the coconut and let them lay around a bit, not dying or anything."

He kicks the briefcase to the side a bit, legs needing a little more room. "The next thing your men need? Music. You should learn an instrument, sing songs to them, show them you care! That way they won't suspect when you snatch the sandwiches from their hands and make brazillions of dollars in profit!"
Vega      These sad, tiny people. Aimless. Meaningless. They have no concept of what they could be, or what they could become. As Vega's mind touches theirs, subsumes them, dominates them, they are bent towards a new purpose: the service of Vega. These people exist to serve him. These people exist to worship him. These people are no longer human beings. Humans are worthless creatures. Now they are *machinery*. The power of Vega's mind - of Psycho Power - fills them to the brim as it does the rest of the establishment. The cooks, the teller - all are subsumed into Vega's will, crushed under the heel of a mind far more powerful than they will ever know.

     The teller wobbles for a moment like a drunk man. He rings up the order, his fingers narrowly missing the button. There is a cha-ching noise as the register opens, and the money falls out of it - and into Steven's hands. At the next register, the same thing happens. Then again. Then again. Four cash registers' worth of money simply pours out, as if by its own accord. Then they start emptying their wallets and pouring *that* into the pile.

     The look of blank horror on their face, as they try to grasp what's happening to them and slowly lose their sense of self, is probably frightening.

     Meanwhile, someone runs out the back door with money in hand, firmly under Vega's thrall. Vega will eat *well* for his dinner.

     The Dictator continues to float, gazing down at Steven with those cold, soulless white eyes.

     "How very interesting," comes that horrible voice. His lips peel back in that horrible automatic grin that muscles have nothing to do with, revealing his huge white teeth. It's like looking at a shark's face made human - cold, dead, soulless eyes, and a grin that looks like it would gleefully consume a kitten if only one was present.

     "And you are...*investing* in Shadowlaw," Vega observes slowly, purposefully, "Which is why you are...*giving* me this...*information*, yes? Tell me...how did you...*hear* of me, Tiger Millionaire?"
Steven Universe Tiger Millionaire looks around, a little creeped out as people start giving him money, which he promptly puts down onto the table after removing his legs from it. "Yes, I'm investing in your prestigious organization. With my help, and my big ideas, you'll be more powerful and richer than ever! Though you should really stop mind controlling people so much, doesn't it get lonely? Even a Tiger Millionaire like me has some 'yes men' to go have dinner and jungle cocktails with."

He considers Vega's last question, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment. "Well, see, I know some powerful men, in high places." He opens his briefcase and starts digging figures out from under his money. Then he plops them down onto the table, around the money. "Dracula." he motions to a very stereotypical looking Dracula figure. "Mister Peanut." he places a Mister Peanut figurine next to Dracula. "And of course, Superman with a missing arm! They all gave me these figures, so I'd remember them." Surely they weren't given to him by Peridot!
Vega      A few moments later, more people in the McDonald's start getting up, coming over to 'Tiger Millionaire', and dumping their money on his table. It's like a chain of sacrifices, or lambs to the slaughter. With an odd, glazed-over look in their eyes, they pour their belongings into his hands. Watches, cell phones, money, credit cards, drivers' licenses, everything. Children come over with toys and candy, which they supplicate to Tiger Millionaire without a second thought. Happy Meal toys fall into his lap from children with glazed looks in their eyes as Vega simply floats there, listening to Tiger Millionaire's pitch.

     The flood is quickly enough to bowl Dracula, Mister Peanut, and the missing-arm Superman over into the pile of valuables.

     In the back, there's the sizzle of something burning, and the smell of something unpleasant and most definitely not food in the deep-frier as a waiter - since when has McDonald's had waiters? - brings a tray over. On the tray is a Happy Meal box and a box of chicken nuggets - crisp, clean, delicious chicken nuggets, made with real chicken. Fries made with real potates, crispy and orange. Two burgers, made with real beef. A soda in a wineglass, a bottle of coke on the tray, and a bottle of wine next to it.

     Vega waves his hand. One of the burgers rises in the air, as well as a set of fries and the winebottle.

     "And your...powerful friends...informed you of me," Vega observes with a distant air as the burger comes apart in front of him and just sort of flies into his mouth after his words are done. He chews, slowly, as if the motions of his mouth were controlled by someone working the wires, like an animatronic puppet.

     "No. I am not 'lonely'," Vega observes slowly as he looks down at the boy.

     "Tell me...Tiger Millionaire. Your...yes-men. Do they serve you for a purpose? For what...*reason*...does your money exist? For what reason do your...*employees*...exist? Do they know? Do they understand? Do you give them meaning, /Tiger Millionaire/? Or are they simply aimless cogs in a vast machine, working away without any sense of self, any sense of purpose, asking themselves each day why they bother to get out of bed at all?"

     He leans down, so he can look Tiger Millionaire right in the eyes with those huge, souless white ones. "I am Vega. I grant purpose. Where I pass, the world becomes unified under my will. The aimless masses longing for meaning are granted it. They work to my glorious rule."

     "It is a kindness. So many people are so alone, don't you think? Without...friends. Without...companions. Lonely."

     "I make them part of something bigger. And in turn, I receive what I desire."

     Vega straightens again. "But what is it...*you* desire...*Tiger Millionaire*? For what reason do you accumulate wealth?" He gestures at the toys, the money, the valuables now laying on the table.

     "What will you do with these, now that they belong to you?"
Steven Universe "These belong to everyone else here, I didn't earn any of this!" Tiger Millionaire reaches down to grab hand fulls of the pile, then just tosses it, as if to dismiss the entire offering.

Then he steps up onto the table, grabbing his Happy Meal box, then kicks whatever was placed onto the table for him.

Except the food, of course.

"What does Tiger Millionaire need with mindless drones?!" he asks, getting bolder suddenly, walking across the table so that he can get closer and more level with Vega. "I make money to feed my family and pay my liquid platinum fountain bills! My workers, my 'yes men', they feed their families, they do all the sad things that poor people do! Their purpose is to do what I tell them to until their hours are over! But they /choose/ their purpose!"

He raises a finger to point it directly up at Vega, very accusingly. "I invite you here to McDonalds to have a business conversation, and you're questioning my love of money?! I'm TIGER MILLIONAIRE!!!"

"I want all the best things in life, and this is a /terrible/ atmosphere! It's creepy, and people are suffering, and this food is too perfect!" He opens the Happy Meal and removes the burger, taking a bite of it. "This tastes like real meat! You don't go to McDonalds for real meat, you go to McDonalds to experience McDonalds and eat poor people food! If you lose touch, how are you supposed to take over a world full of poor people!"

He suddenly points at the seat immediately in front of him. "Stop floating, stop making everyone feel bad, sit down, and eat food like a normal person!" he demands, suddenly pointing at his briefcase with his burger. "Or I'll take my jungle bucks elsewhere!"
Vega      How very bold.

     Very few have ever made *demands* of Vega. Those people are usually not alive, or are Charlie, whose state of life is debatable at this current moment because it's entirely possible he's in deep shit. No one has ever demanded that Vega stop doing what Vega does in any seriousness, except would-be heroes sacrificed on the altar of combat, or United Nations officers unaware of the pain they were about to receive.

     So when Tiger Millionaire makes his demands, they are reasonable, realistic, and sane. They are the sort of demands someone who is human but evil would stop, listen to, and go 'yeah, you know, you're right'. They're *damn fine points*. They're the sort of points a person might agree with.

     The fundamental flaw here is that Vega is not a person.

     "So," Vega observes slowly as he does, in fact, lower himself to the ground with a slow menace, "Allow me to understand. You feel that it is better...that it is *greater*...that your minions be allowed to choose the form of their despair. That they be permitted to wonder, forever, about their purpose. That they mill about, searching for a meaning to life as they grind away in mediocrity."

     Vega takes a step forward. "You would have me compromise the great for the middling. You would have me discard a true meal and take up an artificial one in order to become /closer/ to the poeple. You would have me rule from the *ground*, rather than the heights to which I would aspire, because being *closer* to those I rule is somehow better than ruling them from afar."

     "Why?" Vega demands, suddenly slamming his fist on the table hard enough to quake it - which is impressive, because the table is *bolted to the floor*.

     "Tell me, /Tiger Millionaire/. You claim to be wealthy, to be powerful, to desire the best in line. Why would you *compromise* that for the sake of *others*? If you desire the best, then claim it with your bare hands. If you have the power, /then take it/. If you have the money, then *spend it*."

     Suddenly the people in the McDonald's jerk forward. The purple glow breaks away, though Vega's aura does not, presumably because he cannot. As if waking from a dream, the people stare at each other, look 'round, and shudder, making for the door as swiftly as possible.

     Vega takes the burger in his hand and simply tears a bite off with his giant teeth rather than psychic power. "I have cut them free. I have torn them loose from Vega, so that they might see for themselves how worthless their lives truly are. I have given them a /choice/."

     Vega sits down. It is almost comical, Vega sitting down at the table, the massive monster of a man wedged into the tiny booth, but there's that 'almost' part. Because even in such a comical position, Vega is so full of power it seems more like containing a very large explosion in a very small space.

     "Do you know what the sad truth is, Tiger MIllionaire?" Vega says, his voice low and cold, "It makes no difference. Some of them will come back to me. They will fall to their knees and worship me, because to them I am a /god/. I will not ask them to come back. I will not command them to come back. But they have touched power, now, and they will desire it. They will scrape for it. They will fall across themselves for a taste of it again."

     "I have more than enough servants of their own free will. I have soldiers by the score who work not with my touch upon their minds but because they /desire/ to be part of something greater. Because the rewards of serving Shadowlaw are vast. Because they gain power, and power is a reward unto itself."

     "What are the rewards *you* give, Tiger Millionaire? Why do they serve you, and then return to their sad little lives, bustling about full of fears and worries, when they could be free of the system that poisons them with every step?"

     "What is it *you* mean to the world, Tiger Millionaire?"
Steven Universe "Exactly! I had to learn pretty recently that you have to let people believe what they want to believe, even if it might be a little fictional, because human life is short and it can be boring! So you have to let people find their own meaning in life!" Tiger Millionaire explains, completely sticking to his guns, entirely confident in his words.

He's ten years old, but persona or not, Steven Universe has clearly seen some stuff. "People like us, we're powerful, we've got more jungle bucks than we could hope for. But people like them, they're scared, and alone. Maybe they will come back to you and be evil! Maybe trying to take over the world is their purpose in life. Heroes might stop them, but they made their own decision to do bad things, that's the purpose they choose!"

He stuffs his face with that burger pretty quickly, then starts digging into his Happy Meal box for fries. "I don't know what I mean to the world! Maybe I mean affordable coconuts for busy moms, maybe I'm the cool tiger guy that people look up to so that they can be millionaires just like me. But you know what I give people?"

He reaches down to grab a stack of jungle bucks from his briefcase, then holds them out to Vega, waving them around. "I offer the hope that one day they can buy anything they want, and live however they want! A life that will never be boring again! They can work and work, and maybe they'll get somewhere in life! They'll never be a Tiger Millionaire, but they work, and they're happy, because they think they can be me!"

He suddenly sits down onto the table, crossing his legs to pull out his new Superman figure. His eyes light up, almost sparkling, with a huge toothy smile. Though he continues on with the topic. "That's why I don't want drone money, that's why I don't care about people bowing down to me! People are /inspired/ by Tiger Millionaire's hard work, and what he could become by taking the world by storm with coconut mines!"
Vega      "And yet I am not interested in inspiration," comes Vega's cold reply, "I am not interested in what others may become. I do not care to provide them hope. I do not wish to give them comfort. I do not wish for them to look up and desire to become like me. I am Vega. There is only one Vega. There will only ever be one Vega. Those who bear my name and shape from other worlds will contend with me, and I will contend with them, for there will only ever be one Vega."

     "I will shape the world to my will. The world *exists* to be shaped to my will."

     As if punctuating the statement, purple flame rings the teller's counter. The counter shakes itself to pieces, rising into the air. Vega isn't even bothering to look at it. As the chunks hang there, they reshape themselves, twisting torturously into the shape of the Shadowlaw skull Vega wears on his belt. The skull spreads itself between the walls of the back. The cash registers shred themselves, lining the skull with an eerie silver bit.

     Vega doesn't even glance at it. He simply continues eating. Occasionally he pours himself a glass of wine.

     "Why should I give them hope when what I desire is their obeisance? Why should I give them the promise of glory when what I desire is their servitude?"

     "I will rule the world because that is what I am meant to do."
Steven Universe "Well, I mean..." Tiger Millionaire stuffs a handful of fries as he goes into deep thought. "That seems kind of boring. No offense or anything, I know a Tiger Millionaire has high expectations when it comes to life, but..."

He slides a fry into Superman's hand, then flies it into his own mouth, chomping while staring up at Vega. "You don't have any human problems, and you don't want to do anything cool." He holds the Superman figure up, showing it off. "Do you know what kinds of stories you could tell with this thing? But all you do is..." He clears his throat, suddenly doing a mock deep and evil voice. "'~B~E~N~D~ ~T~H~I~N~G~S~ ~T~O~ ~M~Y~ ~W~I~L~L~'"

He shakes his head, looking a little disappointed. "If you can bend things to your will, and bend all of the people to do what you want, and then take over the whole world, what's left to do?! It just sounds boring!"
Vega      Vega does not, in fact, understand this. Slowly, he attempts to. He attacks it from every angle he can think of. What sort of...glory?...could he spread ith a figurine? What sort of...*cool* things did he desire? He desired the best. His desires were...he was...Vega pauses, as if deep in thought. He may in fact be. It's hard to tell with that unmoving face.

     "Money," Vega tells the boy after a moment, "Power. Women. Fine art. Fine drink. The knowledge that all the world kneels before me. The governments of the world brought low. The human race transformed into a tool to fulfill my every whim."

     "Suffering. Pain. Misery. The entertainment those things bring."

     Vega steeples his fingers in front of him, leaning forward. The table cracks, rather than try and strain against him. His hamburger and drink float beside him in the air as he locks his soulless white eyes on Steven's own. "I have put a gun to the head of a man and made him choose between his own life and his family's merely to hear him plead in agony. I have thrown a man in prison and starved him for half a week simply to see what he would do for food. I have turned men into demons for the pleasure of knowing their breaking point. And when the whole world is in my grasp, I will do that until I am satisfied. And then I will find a new art to pursue."

     "Perhaps I will paint their sorrows upon a canvas. Perhaps I will write down my experiments for future generations to learn from at my feet. Perhaps I will simply find new worlds to conquer."

     His lips spread again into that horrible grin. "The world offers very much entertainment with some...*imagination*."

     "In the end, we are the same. My toys are simply...*bigger*. And more complicated."
Steven Universe Steven slowly backs away, sliding from the table. Then he reaches up, removing his mask, then ruffles his hair until it poofs into being a curly mass of fuzz again. "I'm done being undercover. I'm actually Steven Universe. And I don't think you're a person." he decides, sliding his tiny mask into his pocket while carefully laying the Superman figure back onto the table.

"People, no matter how bad they are, wouldn't want to watch people suffer, and make them hurt people they love, or be entertained by any of that!" He suddenly slams his fist onto the table, which, unlike a normal ten year old, causes it to outright shatter in two. He stares at Vega, looking angry and frustrated. "I don't know how, but one day I'll find a way to stop you! I won't let you take over the world, or mind control people, no matter how boring their lives are! People are allowed to have boring lives, they weren't put here for you! That's the point of being human!"

He balls his fists, almost shaking with anger at this point. "You're... you're more like a monster, who wants to control everything, and be a monster to people! A real person would still need people, but you don't need anyone!"

He suddenly leaps over the broken table, trying to grab his hands around Vega's head so that he can -yank-. "I've seen how fake your face looks, I'll take your mask off!"
Vega      Vega doesn't move.

     The ten-year-old grasps his face and finds it *solid*. There is no mask. There is no monster underneath. Steven can feel the warmth of Vega's breath, the slow, automatic flare of nostrils. He can feel the heat of Vega's blood pumping through his body, the pulse of Vega's heart sending it through Vega's veins.

     Vega does not slap him away. Vega does not fling the boy across the room. Vega does not even lift a finger. He doesn't even lift Steven with Psycho Power.

     That is because the cruelest thing Vega can possibly do is allow a ten-year-old boy to realize that sometimes, human beings are monsters, too.

     It's not technically *true*, of course. Vega is really a psychic monster puppetting a living body. But Steven doesn't need to notice that, and probably won't be able to notice it even if he could.

     "I am well aware of who you are," Vega tells him slowly, "I have known who you were from the moment you sent that ridiculous email."

     "You are a child who believes in the goodness in all hearts. You are naive as a child must be, one who has never encountered true evil. Look upon Vega and know that true evil exists in this world. Look upon me and know that there are people in this world who will hurt you because you exist, because it amuses them, because they are cruel."

     Vega's rictus-grin spreads again. "Know that there are people in this world who delight in pain, and feel the certainty of your heart, the innocence of your soul, die, screaming, in agony."

     "Because it amuses me to shatter your illusions."
Steven Universe Steven quickly and clumsily slides back down, then begins to back up. He stares up at him, his words sinking in. He stares down at his own hands, as if in disbelief of what they've just discovered.

That this man is, indeed, human.

He seems as if he's trying to think of something profound to say, but then he turns around, head hanging low, and just starts heading for the door. "Don't hurt anyone else here, I'm going home..."
Vega      Vega takes a victory sip from his wine.

     There is no one else in the McDonald's. Everyone has run, or already been forced to kill themselves. As Steven walks away, Vega stands, draws his cape around himself, and vanishes in a burst of purple fire, laughter ringing through the street as he goes.