By Dan

The sun was just beginning to set on the bustling metropolis known as Metro City. These days, it was much safer for the citizens of this city to walk the streets at night, now that the Mad Gear and Skull Cross gangs had been virtually eliminated in the city, so there were just as many people outside at night as in the daytime. One of the several people outside was the young Bushin fighter, Crimson.

=====

"Rebound!", Crimson exclaimed, grabbing a rebound off of another player's missed shot. Dribbling the ball back to the free throw line, he turned around and found he was being heavily defended against. But he was quick. Crimson dribbled left and kept his eyes in the same direction, and his defender followed him.

"*Gotcha...*", Crimson thought while crossing the ball over behind his back to his right hand and bought it back in front of him to his left. His opponent staggered back, not prepared for the crossover move. Perfect.

Crimson jumped in the air and released the ball from his fingertips, watching it as it sails effortlessly to and through the net. His opponent could only helplessly watch Crimson's 18-foot jump shot go through the chain-link net. Shaking his head, he conceded defeat.

"Good game, Marcus.", Crimson's opponent replied. Crimson nodded, shaking his opponent's hand momentarily.

"Same for you. I'll catch you later, man...", the young Bushin fighter replied, walking away from the park. Grabbing his Nike bag from the ground, Crimson retrieved a towel from his backpack and used that to wipe the sweat of his brown-skinned forehead.

Crimson's opponent stayed at the park, his friendly expression now gone off his face. He was angry that he lost. The young man walked over to his friends, who were watching the game.

"Man, you got your ass kicked, Derrick...", one his friends said matter-of-factly. The one known as Donavon rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Tell me something I don't know, Chris... Geez...", Derrick muttered. His other friend spoke up.

"Aren't you the best player at this park?"

"I used to be. Now because of that Marcus, I'm gonna' be a laughingstock....", Derrick said in a moody voice. He suddenly stalked off away from his friends, who both were surprised that Derrick would flat-leave them like that.

"Yo! D, where are you going, bro?", Chris asked his friend.

"To handle some business...", Derrick said without even looking back.

=====

"You're only making it harder for yourself, you know...", Guy said, performing a backwards somersault to distance himself from his attackers. He had been following the trail of an international gang that had ties to Shadaloo, and he found them conversing with Balrog at a local Bar located on the South Side of Metro City.

After confronting the gang, the group of men saw fit to attack the Bushin master. One man came charging at Guy with a broken bottle, hoping to bury it in his chest. Guy realized his predicament and performed a jumping split and rolled away from the man as others began to converge on the Bushin master.

"Stay back... I don't want to harm you, I just want information...", Guy replied.

"Bollocks! Let's get 'im, mates!", one man with a rich English accent spoke. The men all yelled, confirming their attack on the Bushin master.

Guy shook his head. Flipping gracefully over three of his attackers, he performed his dashing crescent attack to one, sending the man careening clumsily into his own man. One snatched a bar stool that a patron was sitting on and hurled it at Guy.

Guy's eyes went wide and ducked. Catching it with his left hand, he threw it back with even more force than his adversary did. The man looked helpless as he saw the bar stool crash against his face, breaking bone and cutting skin.

Guy moved quick, running in a black blur to another gangster and sent him spinning with a palm strike to the head. The Bushin master felt a grip on his shoulder pull him backwards. Guy jumped and turned his body in mid-air, sending a roundhouse kick in the unseen person's direction.

The kick found its mark in another gangster's face, spilling his blood and breaking his jaw. Guy moved fast, proceeding to take out almost every gang member except for Balrog, who was curiously absent from the battle. After performing a somersault kick to the last standing member of the gang, Guy looked around.

The bar resembled a small warzone now, with broken bottles and smashed tables and chair littering the area, not to mention the many frightened bar patrons.

"Did anyone see that large dark-skinned man leave?", Guy asked. No one could muster a response, so Guy turned to one of the fallen gangsters who was still conscious, but in obvious discomfort.

"What were you and Balrog talking about?", Guy asked, grabbing the man's suit collar. The gangster smirked weakly.

"Yeah, I'm really getting ready to divulge that information...", he spat scornfully. Guy looked into the sky, then stared hard into the man's eyes.

"Tell me...", Guy insisted. Then he quickly tapped three areas around the man's neck, cutting off the blood and oxygen in his veins.

"...Tell me now, or you perish..."

The man choked, feeling the blood slowly draining from his jugular vein.

"You...wouldn't...dare...kill...me...", the man said, finding it hard now to string a sentence together. Guy smiled, his eyes turning all white with no pupils as he showed the man his chi aura.

"Try me...", Guy said. Getting up, the Bushin master walked away from the fallen gang member. The gangster, upon seeing Guy walk away, caved in.

"Ack...! Fine! I'll...I'll tell...I'll tell you!", the man called out as best he could. Guy smiled. Flipping back over to his spot beside the man, Guy asked again what they were doing. The man was happy to give him the information this time around...

"We were all... talking with Balrog, negotiating a deal.... Not... a whole lot of money involved...", the man said weakly. Guy nodded.

"I'll need more information than that, my friend...", Guy insisted. The man's eyes went wide.

"It had... to do with Mad Gear... Balrog had said that... That M.Bison might... reform Mad Gear as a...a... subsidiary to Shadaloo...", the man replied, now slipping in and out of consciousness.

Guy nodded. Realizing that leaving the man in his current state would be fatal in a few more moments, Guy pressed the appropriate places again, sending the blood coursing through what would have been a corpse in twenty seconds.

"Thank you for the information. You've been most helpful...", Guy replied. The man sneered at the Bushin master.

"Screw you...", he replied. His answer to that was a fist to the face, rendering him unconscious as well. Guy got up from his kneeling stance with a grim look on his face.

"*Why in the hell would M.Bison want to reform Mad Gear?*", Guy asked himself. Apologizing to the patrons and owner of the bar, Guy made his exit from the nightspot, just as the cops were arriving. In the shadows of the bar, Balrog stood and scowled.

"Damn, damn, damn... I better call the boss. He ain't gonna' be too happy about this...", he said to himself while taking a cell phone out of his large and custom-tailored suit. Punching in some numbers, he awaited his master's response. And funnily enough, no one answered. After twelve rings, the burly boxer gave up.

"Where could the boss be?", Balrog thought aloud again. This was definitely an odd occurrence...

=====

Derrick was hot on the heels of Crimson, taking every back alley and side street known in Metro City to hopefully cut him off. The Bushin student stayed impervious to this, however, and continued walking to his apartment.

Most 18-year olds wouldn't be able to afford an apartment in the more affluent section of Metro City, but Crimson had fought in a couple of local and international junior Street Fighter tournaments and picked up a pretty good sum from it. He wasn't rich, of course, but he could fend for himself, now that his ties with Guy were severed...

"*Hm... Maybe I should order take-out tonight... Or maybe pizza. Haven't had that fa long time...*", Crimson thought, hearing his stomach grumble and protest.

"Easy, fell...", Crimson said with a soft chuckle. He didn't eat the way he used to due to his training regimen. It called for more proteins and iron, less fat and calories, basically meaning, he couldn't eat what he loved: His pizza, his Big Macs, and his ravioli.

"*Ahhh, I can afford to have one day of binge eating...*", Crimson thought with a chuckle. Then he rolled his eyes.

"Geez.... I sound like a supermodel... Baka...", he said to himself. Crimson made up his mind to stay with the training regimen. The young Bushin had something to prove to himself, and that was that he could still become a Bushin master without Guy's help, and also that he wanted to prove to Guy that he could be serious and live up to the challenges a true Bushin will face.

And to do so, he would have to train, study, and practice every day. But damn, he needed something to eat soon... Lucky for him, his home was coming up just around the corner of 4th Avenue and 9th Street. Crimson looked up, seeing a elevated train passing over the street.

"Good 'ol F train. How would I get to school without ye...", Crimson said with a smirk. Hitting the aforementioned 4th Avenue, Crimson turned the corner and walked up the quiet block, only a few cars and taxicabs commuting through the streets. While life for Crimson had become easier since his partnership with Guy ended, he also took note that it had become very dull as well.

He hadn't seen any true action since the last junior Street Fighter competition when he lost to Sean (again), and that was over three months ago. And while he didn't want to rule out a peace between himself and his former teacher\mentor\friend Guy, Crimson knew that most likely, it wasn't bound to happen.

"I'd better stop dwelling on the past... What's in the past is done. I gotta' look to the future...", Crimson assured himself. Looking to the numbers on the apartments, he found his and walked up the steps to the three-story brownstone building. Taking some keys from his basketball shorts, Crimson slid them into the lock of the apartment's door.

Little did he realize Derrick was right across the street, his back alley and shortcuts finally working to an advantage in his favor... Crimson turned the lock, and the door opened with a slight squeak.

"*Ouch... They need to get that fixed with some oil or something...*", Crimson thought, walking through the corridor to his apartment on the third floor. Derrick rushed across the street, just missing getting hit by a VW Bug, and almost caught the door, but it slammed shut.

"Damn!", Derrick cursed silently. But his luck wasn't gone yet. He saw a little old lady coming from the first floor apartment just as Crimson was walking up the stairs. Tapping on the window, Derrick smiled heartily as the lady came to the door.

"Can I help you, son?", she asked. Derrick put on an innocent act and said:

"Yes ma'am. I left my keys in my apartment by accident. I'm a roommate with Marcus. I'm sure you know him.", Derrick said, hoping that this woman wasn't the landlord.

"Marcus, from the third floor? What a nice young man he is. So helpful... Come on in, son. It's getting cold out there...", the woman replied with a smile, letting Derrick inside the door.

"*Heh. Who says people from Brooklyn aren't trusting enough?*", Derrick thought. Thanking the lady, he made his way up to the third floor as the lady watched him go.

"*What a nice young man...*", the woman reminisced to herself. Derrick slowly made his way up the stairs, hearing a door close on the third floor.

"I've got you now, Marcus...", Derrick thought with an evil grin.

"I won't lose this time..."