Genoa, Italy

Rose sighed as she attempted to focus her mind with her cards. Try as she could, the words on the cards did not fill her mind with wisdom and insight. Rose rarely felt so hopeless, but that was back before she had died, where she wasn’t a helpless woman stuck with the better half of a cruel monster’s soul.

She was losing everything useful to her. With a frown and downtrodden eyes, the woman “What good am I now?” she questioned herself aloud, as her hand grasped the yellow shawl around her neck. “Can I even fight any more?” she wondered as she lashed out with the silk object with as much force as she could. The yellow shawl began to glow as it made a loud snapping sound, as though it were a whip. ‘I still got it, I guess’ she told herself with a smile, before getting to her feet and looking around for something that wouldn’t break, but with glass, and expensive, delicate vases, craftworks, and sculptures a plentiful, that was not likely to happen. The wall would hopefully be strong enough. As she pulled up her shawl, she focused upon a beam of energy in her mind, and her soul, trying to channel it into the silk of her scarf. “Soul Spark!” she shouted, as a beam of glowing yellowish green energy pulsated as it left the very tip of the silken energy catalyst. It worked, but the glowing ball seemed to dissipate as it cam close to striking any surface. ‘Weakened…’ Rose sighed, ‘I am useless!’ She had to try again! “Soul Spark!” she proclaimed yet again as another shawl made beam began to move the room, this one seemed to be headed for one of the doors.

It was at this time, that by coincidence, the red haired doll of April just so happened to walk through the door. “Hey Rose…” she began, realizing only too late that the energy spark was right in front of her. She screamed before it struck her, but she was hardly fazed or hurt when it did.

“April,” Rose gasped in concern, “are you hurt?”

April eyed the purple haired woman, and shook her head, “No, I… well, it didn’t seem to do anything to me at all. I hardly felt it.”

Rose sighed. “That is bad…” she paused to look at April, “not, well, trying to hurt you.”

April nodded, “I know, I don’t think you’d try that anyway.”

Rose nodded once, then continued, “The fact is, my power seem to be weakening. I am losing my bond with my soul.” Her head drooped, “I am weak, and useless,” Rose stated, with a sense of defeat, “I cannot stop Bison this time. I am once again a useless failure! I am weak, and Bison can control me as he has done before.” The purple haired girl said in sheer terror.

It was as Rose knelt to the floor in a heap with hopelessness on the brain that Olanjut opened the door and walked in. With curious grunt, he eyed Rose, and the sadness in her face. He did not understand it, but he did not like seeing sadness in her. He was never really very good with talking or being understood by people even back home. The marriage back then had been arranged, and his wife therefore was below what an American would call the legal age, and he himself was ten years older. That’s how life worked in tribal communities, rare as they were becoming. He wondered if his tribe still even existed with all the terrorizing and amputations.

Rose stood up with a glare to the empty void of her own existence. A glare to

that which she once was, and hoped she hadn’t lost her soul empowered empathy

entirely. “April, I wish you no harm, but I would like to ask you to leap as high as you can.”

The medic took a second to think about this. If Rose needed her help, she certainly wouldn’t have been very nice to help the struggling psychic. “Well, ok.” She shrugged as she jumped a few feet into the air, only to be struck by Rose who seemed to fly without even bending her knees or feet to help spring into the air.

“Aural!” Rose worded quickly as she left the ground, and her hands latched around the doll. “Soul Throw!” she shouted, tossing the girl to the ground as a blue glow faintly surrounded the thrown one, only to strike her head on the ceiling.

April had to admit, she did feel a strange pain from the toss, though it seemed more a pain on the inside than the outside really, as though someone had misplaced her spirit for a second and her body was squeezing its veins in panic to find it and be whole.

The gypsy winced in pain as she fell to the ground, with her hand on her bruised head. “Well…” she said as she gritted her teeth to ignore the pain in her neck, “At least that technique still works just fine.”

April looked at the purple haired girl in concern, “Are you ok?” She was adept at medical skills after all; there was no doubting her ability to fix the injury, if it wasn’t irreversible.

“I’ll live.” Rose said curtly as though to let the subject drop, as she brought herself to her feet. “I believe you have an energy attack…” she continued to the doll, “I believe it’s called Living Photon… no?”

“Yes…” April nodded, “You aren’t suggesting I attack you with it, are you?”

The purple haired psychic nodded, “Yes I am.” Her eyes turned from the endless confidence of self reliance to a more frightened wideness that was desperation. “Please! It is important to know what I can still handle.”

April nodded, as her hands quickly wobbled at the side of her hips, beginning to glow in a faint, white glow. As that ended, she clasped her hands clasped and unclasped quickly, unleashing its glow in the shape of a sphere. “Living Photon!” she declared as the sphere took flight towards its psychic target. This action to unleash this light happened quicker than it sounded.

Though the Living Photon was neither alive nor a true photon, it pulsated with power. Though it was white, it was anything but pure or holy. It was whitish because it was both hot and bright, but other than that, Living Photon was just a name for the bright white light she unleashed as a part of her abilities attained when she was a doll nurse.

Rose stood as focused as she could be, and with her scarf at the ready, the yellow piece of fancy cloth began to glow in multiple colors of the light spectrum, “Reflect!” she shouted as she swung just as the photon would have struck, only to strike the one eared Olanjut, who had dived to save Rose with a loud roar or fear, but he was a bit late as he took a hit from behind from the warm photon as it was send back towards its maker.

“Olanjut!” yelled both women in horror as he fell to the carpeted floor. He quickly got to his feet just fine though. He had been trampled by elephants with more of a beating than that. He grunted a brief few syllables of feral speech while quickly returning to his feet.

‘He is strong…’ Rose noted, ‘It is probably why he is so vital to the prophecy. I only wish I knew more about it…’ as her head drooped. “That reflect did not work as well as I had hoped.”

“I’m sure Olanjut meant well…” April stated with a shrug.

“No! I’m not talking about that!” she snapped in a tone of severity, “I am talking about the power I needed to put into sending that back. It felt like I needed to put an extra push into it, and I’ve never felt that before!” she sighed, “Do that again. Use another photon.”

April sighed, “If you’re sure.” She eyed Olanjut. “Don’t stand in the way.”

Rose tapped the African’s shoulder, and gave him a slight shove. The touch felt nice and soft, and he willingly complied. After seeing Rose do some strange magic that the tribal priests and shamans of his true home could not do, he figured she was adept to handle herself.

Aprile then unleashed her projectile again, “Living Photon!” she shouted, sending the beam to Rose.

The fortuneteller was ready, and this time, when she struck with the shawl, only the tip of the cloth seemed to go anywhere, “Reflect!” she declared as it seemed to capture the energy beam in a vacuuming funnel which quickly pulled the sphere into the tip of the scarf, its energies absorbed. “Gah!” Rose winced and gritted her teeth as she fought to absorb the energy as she had in the past. Indeed, some of the energy was absorbed, but only some, and not even half. She could not win this psychic battle with herself, and felt herself stumble backwards as she fell off of her feet.

“Oh crap!” April gasped, “I’m so sorry. Rose! Are you ok?” she was frantic.

Rose panted to the psychic and spiritual strain, but nodded nonetheless. “I’ll live,” she sighed as the soul bound struggle left her. “But I don’t have enough of my power to be as good as I used to be.”

“And you’re giving up?” April said in shock, “I thought you were better than that! Where’s the determination you once had?”

“In a soul that doesn’t exist!” Rose snapped with anger. “I am nothing without my soul powers, don’t you get it?” she was angry. Angry at everything! She hated herself, Chad, Bison, and the list just went on from there to practically everyone that existed.

“Well… I guess that’s it, huh? I mean, you have martial arts skills and physical strength as well… but build on those? Why, what an inconceivable idea!” April’s words were of course sarcastic and harsh, even if she was trying to make a point. “You can still build your physical strength!” she shouted seriously.

The thought never crossed Rose’s mind, but when it did, she seemed to calm a bit “You are right.” Rose sighed, “I must really be sounding like a baby right about now… I have just been through a lot right now.” She said with a fist clenched, “Even then, I do not intend to just ignore this issue.”

“If you intend to fight Bison, you’ll need strength and muscle.” April stated the obvious, “Perhaps you should work on fighting with your own two fists and feet a bit more than you used to.”

Rose nodded. “Yes, I will have to, and you will be training as well, April, or so I hope.” She said with the largest smile of her entire life. Unfortunately for Rose, that smile was therefore rather faint, since this was a woman who rarely smiled, instead keeping a rather neutral look upon her face. “I doubt it will be my battle alone this time.”

April was a bit shocked. “Me… but I’m the medic!” she gasped. “If I die, then who will fix your wounds?”

“You have psycho energy in your blood and veins; I think you’ll be quite sturdy with some muscle.” Rose reasoned, “I don’t need my psychic abilities to know that by far. We will start training, all three of us… and we’ll need to get Olanjut some language skills.”

Thailand

The one eyed giant, Sagat, sat in a meditative stance in the early morning hours of the day. With the day off from teaching students, the giant man trained himself, for he felt still there was much to learn. It was perhaps a correct assumption, considering that he wanted to one day beat Ryu in battle. Even a master can learn new tricks. Still, Muay Thai alone had yet to give Sagat the power he thought he would need for such a grand and worthy battle. He would need to diversify and hone his talents in more skills when possible. Yet, as he attempted to meditate, his mind could not seem to find inner peace. Never would he hone the meditative arts of self actualization that the Indian yoga master, Dhalsim, was able to harness.

The boy looked the role of Muay Thai at least looked the part while wearing a pair of shorts and with bandages wrapped around his hands and feet. ‘Sagat… it means protect in the Thai language…’ the scarred, one-eyed giant said to himself, ‘I guess I’ve been living up to that name well, haven’t I?’ Sagat stated to himself in sarcasm. Yes, he had indeed been useful to his people. ‘Is my vengeance with Ryu worth the effort?’ He had questioned it before, but his pride would not let him back down. Ryu was still the only one worthy of his greatest battle ever, thus far.

Still, there seemed to be hope in the yoga man’s son for such a diverse potential of Tiger Muay Thai, and Yoga to work as one. In fact, Datta was sitting besides Sagat, and from his meditative seated position, he had gone a few inches off the ground, levitated. The boy showed potential as a Muay Thai warrior, as Sagat was impressed with his kicks, both when stretching his legs and when not using the yoga ability to elongate his limbs. Maybe one day, Datta would claim the title as Emperor of Muay Thai, and maybe even win the self proclaimed position as its god.

Sagat sighed as he opened his still working eye, “I don’t know how you do this so well.” he eyed the giant Buddah statue, and the relaxed expression on the statues face seemed almost to mock Sagat. “How do I reach enlightenment?”

Datta did not respond, for he was too focused in his inner peace. Perhaps if the Hindu boy had the talent that his father had, he’d probably have heard what Sagat was asking him. The fact remained however, that he did not yet possess that capability with yoga training.

The fact remained that Datta was still rather poor skilled with Muay Thai as well, but given time and Sagat’s skill, he could become one of the best if the boy gave it some effort, and so far, it seemed that Datta was enthusiastic about training under Sagat. There was no certainty, but Sagat saw potential in the boy, especially if he were to one day learn his father’s ability to teleport.

Germany

Birdie was fortunate, and making better time than he’d have thought he’d make. The black man had been on the move for nearly a day through France, and had even been fortunate enough to sneak aboard the freight cargo hold of a truck for a good few hours of rest. Birdie was close now, or so he hoped. He had crossed the border from France to Germany a while ago, but where Juli lived exactly, he was unsure. Bison had not told him. ‘Damn that bastard! Some never liar and he doesn’t even tell me where the heck I need to go.’ He snarled as he wandered the road.

‘Are we upset, Birdie?’ asked Bison’s voice as it seemed to hear his anger. ‘You’re on the right path. In fact, I’d say you have four miles at most to go.’ He even added where he needed to go with more specific details such as street and house number. ‘By the way, those two Frenchies you met… well, they both happen to be dead. The man died of bullet poisoning… and it’s a shame that Fevrir took her own life like a coward. That’s the second doll that’s gone for good. The first was Satsuki… not that I liked her very much anyway. Satsuki’s cause of death was not by her own choosing though. It was beyond her control. Those vehicular accidents do cause much fuss.’ he chuckled darkly, and carefree. It was as though he seemed death was funny.

Birdie snarled. Bison just talked of death as it were no damn big deal. He sickened the giant Negro. He was not in the mood to stand around and talk to this dip-shitty piece of sewer scum! “I’ll bite yer bloody ‘ead off later, chap! Just get lost!” he hissed as his banana shoe covered feet brought the chain user along as fast as he could move.

‘Yes…’ Bison seemed to chuckle too quietly for the Mohawked giant to hear, since he had run off down the road along the country side, ‘I’m sure you’ll want to… your loyalty never seemed honest when it came to anything.’ He laughed at this, ‘You’re a loose cannon, Birdie… cannons like you need to become fodder!’

Juli was nearly useless to Bison! She was the most wretched and pathetic of all of his dolls. Yet, without her, Juni would have likely become a vegetable beyond repair, and Juni was by far one of his more powerful dolls, loyal and remorseless at killing and survival. The orange haired doll had a close connection with the brunette, so it seemed, and their teamwork was uncanny. It was this that allowed Juli the liberty of getting to live, and Juli did do her best to be obedient at times as well, for she hated the pain at Bison’s hands. Bison was like their god, and their mind after all. The dolls were mere avatars of his willpower, and as such, for one to be mistreated by their master was always disheartening. For Juli, it was necessary, but he regretted having it be a test of Birdie’s loyalty as well.

This forced rape was more trouble than it was worth for Bison, as he had to have a baby killed from a mother unwilling to let go, and Birdie hated Bison more than ever. Why Juli wanted to birth Birdie’s DNA was beyond Bison’s understanding, though he figured her enhanced survival instincts had taken on their motherly aspect of populating the species. It really did not matter! The baby kept Julia from being an assassin, and though Bison probably wished the child was born at this point, he could not undo the past. The child would have been a great host for psycho energies. As the child would have grown, the energies would practically develop along with them as part of their genetics, and the body would adapt to survive. The results of this mutation could lead to a powerful adult worthy of being a new host body.

Bison had given this energizing treatment to children before. One of his most notable ones was a kid he found freezing in Canada once. Psycho energy practically has a will to live, even though it was not a living entity at all. The child’s body dropped temperature to adjust to the icy settings, and remained that way, granting him power over the element of ice. This boy was named Benny, and he was just one of several. Each person was a secret backup plan in its own right, for never did he dare to blab about their existence, and the psycho energies, when mutated, were nearly impossible to detect. This was of course, different than Cammy, a ‘clone’ of sorts, a constructed human with the intent of only living to be a vessel for Bison’s psycho drive in due time. However, Cammy began thinking somewhere along the line, and that made her useless to him now. It was a lack of harsh control that caused Bison to lose his powers of mind control. It happened to Rose, and now she was as thorny as a rose could be.

Bison enjoyed the subtlety, and would never give up his crusade for perfection with Shadaloo, no matter how many times he’d need to go to hell, or how often Rose would be there to stop him… or Chun-Li… or Guile… or Zangief… or Cammy… or Birdie… or any of the millions of other enemies he may have had dared to try. He would be back, even if he grew weaker every try! Bison sometimes didn’t realize that no meant no.

With a laugh, Bison was pleased. ‘Birdie, you are as gullible as they come… but you probably will no fit in with Shadaloo.’ He hadn’t said that aloud, or to anyone but himself, but it fed Bison’s ego just find. ‘Ah, Birdie. Consider yourself fired… again! Although perhaps you will leave Juli with another child. Another host for psycho energies…’ He laughed a sinister and loud laugh. The torture would be fun, but he still needed to find the perfect body. ‘I do not think I will want Rolento as my host body… he still makes a nice prisoner however.’ Then, Bison’s formless spirit was gone in a flash, back to stirring more chaos and recruiting more servants.

Israel

Zealous war… that is the crappy lifestyle that was endured in a time such as this in the Middle East. Violence was the be all, end all, yet the killing never ended. Day by day, more people in the burning deserts of home would give their lives for a zealous cause, but Zivah despised it! It was difficult to know what country was an enemy of another country anymore, for it was just bloodshed and suicidal, human explosives.

It was this reason that the twenty-six year old woman fled her home willingly. Jewish religion just always seemed to get such poor treatment, or so say historical evidence. Inquisitions in Spain, and Hitler’s regime were just a few of these atrocities. ‘To hell with this all!’ the woman scoffed as she trudged the desert carefully. She would not be so stupid as to travel to any civilization in this despicable land of hatred. All she had with her besides the clothes on her back were the canteen of water that kept her from dehydration.

She could fend for herself just fine. All Israeli people were meant to take military training when they reached a certain age, and Zivah was no exception. The art of Krav Maga, as it was called, was no joke of military training. Krav Maga is self defense, where one may need to resort to dirty tactics, for anything to survive above all else. It was a style about adapting to the user, rather than making its user adapt to it. That was one of the beautiful things about Krav Maga! No two Krav Maga users were too similar in style, and Zivah liked the uniqueness it gave her.

However, the woman was being watched, unbeknownst to her, by a man at some distance away. With a heavy beard, traditional Arabic-esque garb, and a plethora of knives on hand and in pouches and belts all over, he was El Gado, and he was wondering why on Earth he’d even bother to come visit this war zone where he was born. His dark pigment resisted the heat nicely, but then again, living under the service of a pyromaniac like Rolento Schugerg got one accustomed to burning temperatures quickly.

He eyed the woman with a lick of his lips. She looked strong, and her skin tanned from living in such a warm part of the world, and her dark brown hair was long, and untamed by any form of braiding. The sun shone with a bright glare as it reflected off of the steel of the knife he held in his hand. Gado was an expert at using knives, whether carving turkeys or Turkish, his skill with these sharpened blades was great indeed. Unfortunately for the Saudi, knives were all he knew how to use, for the most part. He was by far not skilled in any martial or self defense combat by far, but that did not keep him out of violence. ‘More blood to stain the desert sand…’ the Saudi thought with a grin as his eyes focused intently, for careful aim was needed with thrown objects to be deadly. ‘Hmm, perfect!’ he grinned as he let the knife fly into the air with a spiral to its movement, causing the blade to chop the wind as it moved.

Zivah however, felt something strangely amiss, and a slight twanging sound put her on alert. Few animals ever roamed these war torn lands any more, so it had to have been caused by a human, for the desert sandstorms do not make a distinctive noise such as that. She halted, ever alert and ready to defend herself from whatever may come. It was just in time to see a knife skim by, nearly foot away. Had she continued, the height at which the knife flew would surely have struck her neck, its momentum more likely could have meant death and a sliced open throat.

El Gado was not scared as he saw the woman catch sight of him. After all, nobody nicked their target every time, and Gado was no exception. “What the god damned hell?” the woman snapped in an enraged Hebrew accent, as she trudged through the hot sand to confront the Arabian knife wielder.

“Don’t get any closer!” Gado threatened with a heavy Arabic accent. “I don’t intend to miss again!”

“Mazel tov on the threat!” she hissed with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes, but did stop her advance. “Look! I’m not here to start a fight, but I will if you leave me no choice but to defend.” she said with a lack of enthusiasm. Even if this man was a crazy scumbag, Zivah did not want to waste her time. She had more important things to do, like get the hell out of this part of the world! It was all about oil, religion, and whoever could hold the capitalist countries longer on their side nowadays, and Zivah wanted no more of it!

Gado narrowed his eyes. “You are an Israeli!” he realized, “You’re country trains anything with two legs to fight like savages, so I’ve been told.” He did not lower his knife.

“Yea, what of it?” the Israeli girl asked with impatience. “I fight to defend, not to clonk losers like yerself!” she added, “Look, just back off now and neither of us will have wasted our time, and I won’t be forced to make ya shtup yer knives, either.”

“Shut up my knives?” the Arabian man asked, “The only noise they cause is the screams of their victims.”

“Dumb ass!” the Hebrew girl sighed, “Oy vey!” the Hebrew woman groaned at the ignorance he seemed to radiate “I said Shtup! Uh, it means fornicate.”

The knifeman tilted his head from side to side “Huh?” He had no idea what that word means.

The Israeli sighed again, “Oh for god sake! It means I’ll make you have sex with your knives… Putz!” This guy was amazingly stupid, though his many knives made him deadly at the same time. “Anyway, if ya don’t mind, I gots to go.” with yet another rolling of her eyes, she continued her trek for salvation.

“Wait!” Gado shouted, as he got her to stop. “You seem strong.” he said in a heavy Arabic accent. “Would you like to join a military utopia? My leader and commander runs it and takes only the strong.”

Zivah eyed the knifeman as though he were blue skinned and sprouting corn ears. “What? Do you know nothing? I’m Israeli, I use Krav Maga… I don’t strike unless attacked.” she explained.

“I see…” Gado nodded, having not even the slightest idea what she meant. “Can I at least ask your name?” he figured it was not too much to ask, was it not?

“Zivah…” she replied, brief and too the point.

“Hmm, I don’t know Hebrew much, but doesn’t that mean radiate?” he could have sworn he heard the word before.

“Radiant.” she corrected.

“I see,” El Gado nodded, “my name is El Gado.” he said with, pointing to himself.

“Wow!” Zivah gasped in overtly obvious sarcasm “I dun’ care!” she gasped! “I’m outta here!”

El Gado shrugged. Strange woman, she was, but he didn’t really feel like breaking all his bones so he could starve in the desert. He was beginning to wonder what was happening with Rolento. He tried to contact the man, but he hadn’t made any response for a while now. Not that he cared, for El Gado still hated Rolento for the murder to his family that he committed. In the back of his mind, he hoped Rolento was undergoing bad times. It would be far more satisfying than serving under his rule of a new nation. Soon, he hoped he would get the chance to take the bastard to hell, if someone else didn’t first.

Sodom would have been a far better leader. The samurai seemed to be far more honorable than Rolento, and far less bloodthirsty for war, which therefore made him less dangerous to his own allies as well. Yes, perhaps one day, El Gado would be so lucky as to get rid of that military bastard, but that day would obviously not be today, apparently.

Thailand

Cody had been a criminal once. It wasn’t so mind scarring as he would have thought, but it was a bit boring. Yea, there were people to fight, but they were always just thugs, pretty much. Cody had his freedom, the freedom to quench his addiction to fighting in any way he could, as best as he could. Yet as he made his way to the secret base that Bison told him to go to, he was beginning to think of prison sounding like lots of fun.

The bastard M. Bison was a dip @#%$ by far, as far as Cody was concerned. He meant nothing but trouble, yet he had no choice but to obey. The ex-convict was under blackmail, and the incentive was to save his best friend Guy. Swallowing his pride for the last time, Cody figured that, at least he’d get plenty of fights, considering that this was some sort of evil man he was working for, and that usually meant fighting, did it not?

The Thai jungles were humid and a bit arid today, the sun slightly covered by billowy white clouds in the sky, as white painted the light blue that the Earthen atmosphere made from its reflection of light. “Eh, stupid climate.” he grunted as he wiped the sweat of the heat from his hair. “This bastard better not hurt Guy!” he said aloud, even though nobody could hear him.

He was beginning to wonder if things would have turned out better for everyone if he hadn’t gotten addicted to fighting. He’d still be with Jessica Haggar, and may have been very happy with her too. He missed her at times, but it was more than likely too late to go back and make it all better. There were tons of better men out there who were probably far better than Cody, and Jessica could easily have her pick of any man she wanted! Surely she didn’t miss a convict and violence addict like Cody, did she?

Her father was sure angry about Cody’s actions, that’s for sure. Mike Haggar gave Cody lectures when he got into senseless fights, and Cody hated those lectures! He hated being told he was immature and unable to make up his own mind. He knew exactly what he was doing… or, well sort of.

Still, fighting was a difficult addiction to give up. How the heck would Cody even bring himself to just give it up. It was like cigarettes and drugs, but the difference was that you actually could get stronger from fighting while only weaken your body with the illegal objects aforementioned. Regardless, fighting could still kill others far faster, and cause the user of the fight addiction to receive an incurable injury as well. A lost arm really did suck if it happened, after all.

The blonde’s eyes wandered as he trudged the miserable climate of the current day, and his eyes caught sight of a giant statue. It was magnificent, and looked like it probably was a woman, resting on her side in a toga, or something. If only Cody could get the chance to have such a relaxing time, he too would feel more at ease with life. One day, maybe he would be at peace, and then get to lounge around all day, just like the lazy statue girl he saw before him. She certainly seemed to be a more welcome sight than Lady Liberty back in New York, that’s for certain.

Barcelona, Spain

Few ever heard large felines purr very often, but Vega heard it all the time, as he scratched one of his tiger’s behind the ear. “Ah, good morning, my pretty, pretty kitties.” he chuckled with his feminine voice. A grin crossed his face. Even mighty tigers could be domesticated, which was good, because they were indeed beautiful. They were even easily housebroken too, just let them out the window to crap in the grass, and they’ll come back in through the window before the neighbors needed to scream in fear. Vega did love his pretty cats, and loved anything beautiful really, but most of all, he loved himself. The Spanish Matador was very vain, and it was easy for anyone who looked at him to see that was true.

As he walked out of his bedroom, he grinned, “My, it seems someone is up bright and early.” he said with a tone too soft to feel comfortable about hearing. The pink haired girl was there in his kitchen, eating a ripe pear, her eyes on the vain man with deep hatred. “For someone who hates me, you sure don’t mind stealing my luxuries.” he noted with a grin.

She hated Vega! Januara hated everything about Vega, his selfishness to his vanity, the red glow to his eyes, and his slaying of the ‘ugly’. “Don’t talk to me…” she hissed coldly with a gaze that could burn through frozen steel. She felt a strange urge to ask him something though, “Why do you kill people?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk to you.” Vega grinned with a wink that seemed so out of place in the conversation that it scared he woman to death.

With an audible growl, the January doll asked again, “Tell me!” she demanded.

“Okay,” Vega grinned. “The truth is that I don’t kill people. I kill the ugly!” he grinned, “After all, they’re not people.”

The girl snarled again, “You’re an impossible, chauvinistic pig! Just answer the question!”

“Touchy, aren’t we?” the beautiful matador chuckle, before narrowing his gaze, “The reason is…” he stated in a rather calm tone, before pulling off his mask and closing some space between him and the pink haired girl “familia!” he stated with a strongly emphasized, and dark tone.

With Vega only three inches from her face, Januara had the urge to backhand him, “I don’t get it!”

“Si… It is a long story,” Vega stated calmly, “I don’t know why I would tell you my secrets yet anyway…” He grinned as he swiftly departed from the room, “Kiya!” he roared from across the hall, as a crunching sound and the sound of tearing followed. When Vega returned, his claw was on the back of his right hand, and a microphone was in his left. “Well, I think I can feel safer about telling my life story now.”

“You broke…” the woman gasped.

“No, I left your all important magic wand intact.” Vega said with his menacing smirk. “You wouldn’t be able to harness electricity through just any microphone, after all.” he grinned as he held the voice amplifier by his face. It looked like any old microphone without a wire attached to it, truth be known, except for the symbol of a skull with a pair of wings sticking out of the side of the cranium. It was the symbol of Shadaloo and it was usually somewhere on its members and handiwork.

She caught the object as Vega tossed it to her with a groan of agony. “Look! Stop procrastinating and tell me your story, ok?”

“¿Por qué?” Vega asked with another grin, before giggling to the sight of the microphone holder gritted her teeth, “I’m joking, but I suppose you’re in no mood for games. To be honest though, I hate this story, very much. It is a besmirching to the family name that makes me wear my mask.” he stated with a drawn out sigh.

Vega did not stop there or wait for the girl to ask a question. “You see, it goes back along my mother’s bloodline.” he explained in a serious tone. “It is from her that I get my beauty, for everyone in her side of my family is, or was beautiful!” though still as honest as he spoke this, his words were partly boasted as he mentioned his family tree. “We were rich too. Or at least, until mi madre suffered hard times with cash. In desperation, she married my ugly father!” he hissed at the word father, with a clenched fist, hidden behind a sharp claw. “It is a taint that I was born from one so ugly!” Vega said in a harsh tone, as though this was the most horrible thing on Earth. “I was lucky that he did not pass on his genetic ugliness to me.” he added with a sigh of relief.

“How sad…” trailed the January doll with a roll of her eyes and sarcasm flooding her words quite blatantly.

“Do not interrupt!” Vega hissed as he put his claw in front of his face to threaten slashing at the woman with a berserker’s fury. “As I was saying… my father was an ugly jerk! He had my mother killed!” the clawed man shouted in agony. “Why he demanded respect from my beautiful mother, I don’t know. She disrespected him because he was an ugly twit, and he should have known better!” he snarled as he spoke to the emptiness of himself, not even realizing that the pink haired girl was watching this all. “I had been to Japan to learn Ninjitsu before that happened however, so it was most unfortunate for him.” his tone changed as his eyes raged red. They had been red with darkness and hatred ever since he first mentioned the word father in his story. “I could not let this crime against beautiful people everywhere to go unanswered.” he paused, his gaze narrowing upon the pink haired doll. “THAT, is why I kill the ugly!” he snapped frighteningly, as though he was ready to kill the girl. “My father was my first victim, and he suffered much before I tore his heart out with my claw.” he chuckled at that part. “Some of that bastard’s blood got on my face. His ugly genes were trying to spread! I realized I’d need to protect my godly blessed, oh so perfect and beautiful face, or it could be hurt by victims and their spurting blood!” he explained, his eyes blazingly bright with redness, rage, and insanity. “To this day, my mask has yet to let me down.” he grinned.

The January doll was beginning to wonder, “Why do you fight without a shirt then?” she had a million things she wanted to say, most of which were along the line of Vega sticking that claw in himself in any hole that he had, especially that gaping hole in his head, where a brain was absent. “Do you not fear for the safety of your, uh, ‘beautiful chest?’”

Vega blinked, surprised by her perceptive thinking, “You are observant, and I’m glad you brought it up!” he smiled, pointing to the purple snake tattoo that wrapped around his chest, “There’s why. It’s a symbol of my mother’s side of the family. The snake is sleek and deadly, yet beautiful. I wear it’s as a symbol of pride.”

Metro City, USA

Sodom lunged with a slashing motion of his swords at another dirty street punk. It was nearly a butchering, and made Sodom feel like a murderer when some of his foes did indeed die. Haggar told him not to worry, but the samurai figured this would be a good chance to practice his sumo moves. “Dosukoi!” he masked man stated as he turned into a torpedo in a similar manner to his sensei. At least the barrels and trashcans kept him surprisingly well fed. If he had known there were fresh teriyaki chicken, and spaghetti and meatball dishes hidden freshly cooked in said containers, his future with Mad Gear would have been quite different.

Problem was, he only traveled about seven feet before he plummeted to the ground. ‘I must practice!’ Sodom was back in memories yet again, with the story of his wrestling battle he had earlier told stirring through his mind still fresh and vibrant, he could not help but remember the next part of his little story.

Flashback: Japan, Three Years Ago

Sodom sighed, having besmirched the name of Sumo less than an hour ago. He was still bruised and battered from the fight as his eyes focused upon his sensei. “My apologies for my dishonoring.” he said with pity.

Honda chuckled warmly, “Do not say that! You did great.” the sumo stated.

“Er, but I lost, sensei…” the masked man stated, “I am shameful to your wonderful country!” he declared with calm, self disgust. “I should stop eking to be amongst your people.”

Honda’s smile did not fade, but his tone remained serious, “Sodom, the heart of Japan isn’t about being born here, or our traditions, food and language. The true heart of Japan is in your actions, your mind and dedication. You have proven yourself to be of honorable actions, and have shown great dedication to Sumo.” the Sumo’s smile widened, as the chubby man’s put his hand on the samurai’s shoulder as a sign of friendship, “Even though I may never call you countryman, you do have the honor of a Japanese man, and I am glad to have you as my pupil.”

Sodom bowed, “Domo ar…” he caught himself, mid-bow as he spoke, “Uh, thank you, sensei.” His bare feet sunk into the sand slightly, as he sat down again. They were still on the beach, only a short distance from the now rather empty wrestling ring, as people went on to enjoy other aspects of the beach.

“Come on!” Honda said suddenly as he stood up “We should not be sad. For as they say worldwide, what doesn’t kill us will make us stronger.” Honda grinned warmly as he said it. “Zangief mentioned a feast. You are a growing Rikishi, after all.” the fat man joked.

Even Sodom could not help but laugh at these words a bit, in spite of his strict seriousness. “You are right. Very well sensei, I try and do my best not to mull in my own self pity.”

“That’s the spirit of a sumo! Come, let’s feast!” the sumo proclaimed to his student, as the man licked his lips with a watery mouth. Honda, or so it was obvious by his weight, loved to eat more than his fair share and be merry.

“Isn’t it still too early for dinner, sensei?” Sodom asked.

Honda snapped back to attention. “Ah, you are observant, and indeed correct. Very well, but let us go congratulate the winning team. Maybe your eyes can spend more time on Ms. Nanakawa.” the sumo chuckled.

“What? Sensei, how…” Sodom asked as he began to sweat beneath his heavy mask. How did he know? Sodom’s mask did much concealing of his face and eyes.

“It is a secret that comes from teaching,” Honda chuckled, “A sensei gets to understand his student’s wants and needs as he gets to know them. Do not worry, I will not say a word.”

Sodom nodded, “Thank you sensei, you are an honorable man. There is much you can teach me, but I feel guilty for having no knowledge to impart onto you.”

The sumo chuckled “Even a master can learn new things, Sodom. Remember this, for there is bound to be much I could learn from you.” Honda smiled as he waddled off, pulling his heavy body along by his feet as he trudged the sands, eager to have fun and be social. The man really brought the house down, no, he really brings it down… with his great weight.

Sodom’s head drooped in thought. ‘Perhaps I should talk to lady Mika-san…’

End Flashback

As Sodom came out of his memory trip, he realized he was in no longer in a slum alleyway turning jerks inside out. Instead, he was sitting on Haggar’s couch, and his mask had a dent in it. “What? Why am I back here?”

Maki laughed at Sodom, “You were daydreaming like a loser. Some fat jerk threw you at a brick wall head first!” she said rudely, “Too bad you lived by having your helmet. I don’t know why or how the @#%$ you survived, but I wish you hadn’t!”

Sodom bowed his head, “I am most sorry for my lack of attentiveness, I was distracted by thought.”

Haggar laughed as he stood near Sodom as well, “It happens to everyone… just be more careful next time, would ya?” the wrestling political man didn’t sound rude at all. In fact, his tone was calm and concerned.

“Os! It was still wrong of me to be so lax, Mr. Haggar-sana. I will be more careful next time.”

“You suck, Sodom!” the bushin woman mocked, “What the @#%$ was that thing you did when you jumped into the air trying to smash with your thick head?”

“You mean when I shouted Dosukoi?” he asked, as he received an eye-roll and a nod from Maki. “It is a sumo zutsuki. Sensei Honda uses it to great effect to provide great bursts of power, and it has much mobility as well.”

Maki rolled her eyes, “Right… you’re still a useless fat ass though.”

Thailand

Karin woke with a soft, brief yawn as she opened her eyes to the sight of a towering Muay Thai god. The expression on his face was one of impatience. “Good morning Adon.” the rich girl said in a sugary sweet tone. “Did you sleep well?”

“Get up!” he ordered, “How’s your leg?”

Karin giggled, obviously forced, “You care about me?” she asked in awe, “I’m touched…” she grinned. “Yes, my leg is fine.”

“Here!” Adon stated quickly, as he handed multiple pairs of shorts to the girl, the patterns similar to his own.

“Why do I need all of these for?” she asked as she suddenly snapped into a more serious state of being. “Besides…” she noticed quite easily, “They’re of all different sizes.”

“You’re ability to state the obvious amazes me.” Adon stated coldly, “Find the one that fits you wear it. I‘ll help you wrap the bandages around your hands and feet when you‘re done.”

“This is all there is to my gear?” she asked, a bit embarrassed. “What about…” she paused a bit flustered and ashamed.

“Right… you’re a girl and such. I’m guessing you have… some sort of underclothing beneath that. I think…” Adon shrugged. How would he know about women who wasted fabric for such trivial matters as clothing, he had manly biceps, or so his ego told him he did, and there was no need to concern himself with such uselessness.

Karin nodded, a bit flustered, “So wear nothing under…” she held the shorts in hand, a bit ashamed to ask.

“Yup!” Adon answered too quickly to show emotion. “That is correct.”

“You’re lying!” Karin gasped, blushing, but still with an idea. “Prove it!”

Adon sneered, “No! You’d enjoy it too much, and since I don’t like you at all, I’m going to make your life a living hell,” Adon stated “you will, however, learn Muay Thai from the best there is!” he declared as his ego took control of him. “Why the hell are you here anyway?” he asked, considering that most people would have up and left when they realized just how much of a people person the Muay Thai God could be.

“Well…” Karin stated, “I need to learn a strong fighting style to beat my rival!” she figured it was simple enough.

“You seem Japanese. Cant you find a fighting style in your own damned rich bitch country?”

“But Sakura fights like Ryu!” she blurted out in her whining.

“Ryu?” Adon chuckled, not a friendly chuckle really, just a chuckle. “Well, if you want to take on that style, you best stay away from Sagat. He‘s still rather vengeful about the whole scarring of his chest.”

Karin nodded, she knew about that event. It was on TV, Sagat’s fighting tournament was quite interesting as she saw many fighting styles in action on TV. She grinned yet again. “Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be taking advice from you either. Seeing how you went down to only one well placed punch…”

Adon’s eyes flared up as his teeth formed a snarl. “Don’t you EVER mention that again!” he roared as his hand grasped the woman’s neck as it had earlier that day. “Do you hear me!” he roared in embarrassed rage. “NEVER AGAIN!” his voice boomed as he released his grip from a scared to death Kanzuki girl. “Now, get in uniform and meet me outside.”

How dare she mention his humiliating defeat. He had practically let that fall into oblivion as he went into denial about the whole thing ever happening. Regardless, it was a decade in the past, and Adon never let his head get caught up his ass in self glory ever again. Sure, he could not help but get lazy when a foe truly did suck, but he never let his guard down so badly as to lose to one simple uppercut. The Kickboxing God slammed the door shut behind him in his rage.

Karin blinked. ‘Adon seems to have repressed feelings of neglect or something.’ she shrugged as she began to get changed. ‘He probably needs to go get laid or something…’ she grinned to that thought, before she pushed it aside. Perhaps that’d be a stupid idea… heck she didn’t understand this strange pull towards him herself. It was probably just temporary, but whatever it was, she wouldn’t let it control her thoughts.

After about ten minutes, the rich girl walked out of Adon’s shabby home and into the wild jungles that the Kick boxer called home. She was dressed as he had told her, in but the shorts that fit her best, and the bra on her upper body. She felt kind of strange being so exposed, but it was far better against the warm and muggy climate.

“Taking your sweet time?” Adon asked with impatience, as he held four sets of cloth wraps. His face of anger remained but he didn’t let the girl give him an excuse or apology before he continued. “Well, doesn’t really matter. Hold still!” he commanded as he uncoiled the rolled up sets of bandages. “Hold your hand out like this.” he stated as he forced the girl’s palm open. She laughed a bit when he wrapped he bandages around her feet. The touch tickled her feet, and she found it almost enjoyable when the Muay Thai God snarled at her enjoyment of the touch.

Muay Thai was meant to be serious! I was not meant to be fun. Adon did, however, enjoy the danger and the pushing his body to its physical limitations of stamina and the power he felt when fighting. Regardless, Muay Thai was not meant to be a social call, not under his tutelage it wasn’t. Muay Thai was meant to wear bones and joints out, make muscles ache in blistering pain, and yet whatever did not kill you made you a stronger and better fighter.

“Geez!” Karin scoffed, “Don’t you ever enjoy yourself? Ya know… they say you can’t trust a leader or god who can’t dance.”

“Dance?” Adon grinned, “You don’t deserve to learn about the Waiku dance yet! It’s a Muay Thai specialty!” his teeth showed as his smile widened, inflating his ego tenfold, at least five times in a row. “Being the God of Muay Thai, I am a master of its dances, naturally!” He chuckled as his ego controlled his mind for a second, before regaining composure. “Ah, but you’re here to learn Muay Thai!”

“Yea…” Karin nodded.

“Well, I warn you now.” Adon explained, “You will be pushed to your limits! You will likely get tired everyday! You will feel your muscles tighten, tear, and twist in ways that people usually don’t want to know about!” he warned as though he were a military sergeant, standing before the many soldiers, also known as fleshy targets, who would be victims of living a life of war. “You will sweat, scream, cry, moan, and groan!” he stated with emphasis. “Yet, you will beg for more!”

Karin giggled, then licked her lips with a seductive grin and tone, “Mmm, sounds like fun…” she stated with a slight fluster. “I thought I was supposed to be learning Muay Thai though…”

Adon halted at that, realizing how filled with innuendos his wordy threat speech was. He gritted his teeth with a growl as he clasped his bandaged hand into a tight fist. “The point is simple.” He spoke with an angry snarl. “You will suffer, bleed, bruise, and break bones. You will become stronger though, and will have a fraction of the power that I, Adon, the God of Muay Thai, possess!” Once again, his ego shrouded the universe briefly with his self glorifying and self gratifying speech. ‘Maybe this woman can be useful if she teaches me how to do that crouching move.

Karin grimaced. Something told her that this would take a while. ‘Not that I mind…’ She found Adon kind of funny with his rather foolhardy antics. Yes, Adon would be lots of fun to have teaching her, and then some. Karin would break a god!

Germany

Julia cried, a sad girl, wishing she could be the human she never was. She was a doll, and as Bison had said himself, she would never be a human. Humanity would never accept her existence. She missed Juni a great deal, for with her companion and love, Julia felt safe, and there was something to live for, even if it wasn’t enough to make her human by the occurrence.

It was at that point that she heard a loud tap upon the window of her room. “Hey!” called out a male voice in a cool and relax tone. It sounded familiar. There was no denying it, it was Birdie. Juli had to wonder why he’d waste his time here though.

She opened her eyes, glancing to the window as she pulled her weakened body to

her feet. “Huh?” she asked, so weak that it nearly hurt to speak. “Bir-b…” she took a deep breath as the enormous mental shock faded, “Birdie!”

“‘Hey kid, ‘ow ya doing?” he asked, his voice filled with concern from outside the window, though his gaze did not meet her eyes. He still felt guilty, even though he hated Bison’s order to commit the crime just as much as she did.

‘He came to see me? Oh no! What if he still blames himself?’ she smiled weakly. “I… I’m fine.” She lied as her voice sounded strained as well.

Birdie took a good look at her, though did not look into her eyes. He could see that she looked as though she could die from starvation at any moment. “Bloody hell!” he growled, “What’d ‘e do to ya?” he snarled, “What’d Bison do!”

Julia shook her head, “Bison’s gone, I thought.” She sighed, “Juni left me… and it has left me lonely.” She sighed, “Please, don’t worry yourself with my misery!” she nearly begged. She didn’t want to worry Birdie. She was not human, so why waste the time of humans to get their help?

“What waste? I was the one who ‘urt ya, kid, not the other way ‘round!” he didn’t want to dare say theword rape, heck it was tough to even say it to begin with. “But you look awful, kid!” he stated, before he quickly corrected himself, “Uh, I mean ya look underfed… er, not ‘ppearance.” He wouldn’t dare throw an insult, especially when she was sick and feeling so broken. Besides that, calling her ugly would be a total lie. With more food in her stomach and meat on her skin and bones, she’d look even better.

Vietnam

Sutma smiled as she set up camp. She had tied Rolento to the nearest tree in case he would try to escape. “Why did you come to Nam!” she demanded. “Why all those years ago did you make this hellhole of a country feel so rotten?”

Rolento, who’s deep wound had clotted, eyed her sternly. “I am a soldier… a warrior! I enjoy the kill of my enemies and the terrorism it instills. Are you sure I met you?”

“No, you didn’t!” the girl hissed as she encroached upon him with her piercing, pole-arm. “It was your mistake though!” she hissed, tears in her eyes “You ruined my life, bastard!”

Rolento did not openly show his fear, even though he began to let it perspire out of him. “I guess I will. Go on…” he stated acceptingly, “Do you want to end my life?” he asked, without letting her even get a chance to answer with the nod she’d have given in response. “Go for the kill, and finish me off if you wish.”

“What? You’re just trying to trick me!” she snarled as a game of reverse psychology began to play in her mind.

“I am a soldier, you overreacting bitch!” the military man scowled, “I take no prisoners! I would therefore prefer a soldier’s death over imprisonment.” he stated, “Go ahead. You’ve earned your vengeance.” he shrugged. “Does it feel as good as you thought it would. Will my death bring back those lives I took away from you? Will they come back when I die?”

Sutma blinked, “N… no.” she said weakly, slamming the spear into the grass below, as she pierced the green to the brown earth and soils below. “It won’t.” her voice stated weakly, tears in her eyes. “God damn you! Why do you torture me?”

“You know nothing of war, child!” Rolento hissed, “I have lost many close friends on the battlefield. MANY! But, I never have time to cry or get revenge, and when I do, they still don’t come back. You know nothing of war at all!”

“That’s not true!” Sutma declared. “I worked for Shadaloo and M. Bison, I was one of his dolls, chosen for my strength and determined drive! People can make new friends, but not get new parents!” her voice was weak with sadness yet again. She wanted to rip the man’s throat out, but this victory seemed so hollow. “I’m still taking you to Bison to let you be a host body for him. It’s about the best your ugly face would be good for anyway.”

Rolento did not let the horror he felt show anywhere openly. “So… be it!” he reluctantly agreed. What choice did he have but to accept defeat?