By Jeremy

November 2, 1998

"The rats are caught in the trap, captain." stated a voice smugly. The voice belonged, if memory served, that young punk, Desmarais. Guile could only grit his teeth at the dripping arrogance he felt from the voice, as if the rookie had been the major player in this endeavor, and not just a side-pawn. He knew that this wasn't the time to rile against the boy however. There was much work to be done still.

He tapped his comm. "Understood." he answered tersely "Keep them in, seal off all exits. Invasive team, forward." he paused "Don't bury yourself in the part, officer Desmarais." he added warningly.

"Aye, sir." came the slightly miffed reply.

Three weeks of searching through the back-streets and boltholes of Chicago had given Crackerjack and his goons plenty of time to hide themselves, but it had been a given that they'd find him. And they had cornered them inside this old building, where it was reported the dangerous man kept a dozen men with him. They'd already shot three of them, and the team going in - fourteen men guile trusted implicitly - added to the twenty out side, should be enough to take down the other nine. It was Crackerjack that'd be a problem. He was the only one they were certain who could know the location of the bomb in Richmond, and so they needed him alive. That meant taking him down the old-fashioned way, and THAT wouldn't be an easy task. Guile once again cursed the fact that he was stuck coordinating the operation. He found himself longing for the time past when he'd been at the forefront, charging in like some of these youngsters.

He tapped another line. "Storm?"

"Yes?" came the youthful but professional voice.

"You just make sure you get the guy. No need to fuss over the others. Guile out." the order was harsh - it plainly said he considered the other thugs as cannon fodder - but right now he couldn't help but BEING harsh, it was too important a time.

"Understood. Storm out." came the reluctant voice. Storm did not like killing. A good point - it usually was those who liked killing the least who became the best soldiers. His old friend Charlie was a prime example of that. And in the three weeks, he'd grown to trust and like the younger soldier, to depend on him in those frustrating missions in which he could do little but listen. Storm was the dependable kind of man he needed to keep him advised of the situations while giving on-the-site options.

He held his breath for a moment, than gave the order. "Invasive team, move in! Communication stay with them. Support on standby!"

Immediately he saw the team entering like lightning-fast ant in the building, followed by much fire exchange. Screams and shouting spouted everywhere, and Guile couldn't help but cringe as he heard one agonized scream that came from one of the men under his command. He hated losing good men, had always done so and probably always would. Even when the situation was grave enough that it warranted it. The shouts he heard, however, were mostly coming from people he did not know, for the voices he perceived in the jumble, were calm and professional.

"Invader four, your eight, boogie!"

"Man down, repeat man down here!"

"This is Invader one to three and five: take out boogies on that platform. All others defensive position!"

These urgent orders, given in steady voices, became less garbled as time passed. In minutes the noises of gunfire diminished, and then all became silence. After letting a minute pass by, Guile took control of the comm signal.

"Report situation."

"Nine enemies down, one of our own dead, two wounded." Storm reported. "Continuing operation. Dividing remaining forces in search teams - three of them. Haven't found Crackerjack yet."

Suddenly there were startled screams from other comms. "Team two reporting, we...AGH!!!" Guile clearly heard the scream of pain, from one than another. And between the screams and grunts, a deep, amused chuckle. He recognized the voice, one always remembered it when meeting the guy even once.

He taped the second team's frequency "Team two, team two, report!" static answered. "This is captain Guile, team two, report."

"Guile?" said a deep, chuckling voice from one of the comms "I should have known it was you. You're one of the few with enough guts to try to take me on in my own city! How have you been?"

Guile tensed, clenched his fists. "Crackerjack." he hissed, then became formal "You are surrounded. Surrounded or we will be forced to open fire on you." a deep laugh welcomed his demand.

"Come, come now, cappy!" he laughed "These poor schmucks didn't try to use their hand guns or their riffles, and so I believe you DON'T want to take me down THAT way! What a shame. These kids deserved better than to die like dogs, Guile."

Fury gripped the veteran soldier and fighter, but he fought it down, keeping his voice steady. "You can't beat everyone there, Cracker." he tried to reason "You'll tire out eventually."

"Eventually, yes. But I'm not tired yet. I could take a few down before they managed to get my ass. I think you of all people should know."

Guile answered nothing. He knew it, that was true. The two men had crossed paths before, a few years back, and he'd seen the violence the man was capable of. Although he thought that he could handle him were he there, he couldn't leave his post as Chief of Operations and waltz in there looking for a fight. It simply wasn't done! Dammit, why did those fools at the Pentagon chose HIM to lead from here? He was a FIELD officer, for god's sake! He was wondering what he should do about the current situation, half-tempted to go there himself, when another voice rang out.

"Moving to engage the target." said Storm grimly "Team one and three on standby. Make sure no one leaves this building without my or Captain Guile's authorization."

Guile blinked at the communication system, thinking that he must have dreamed the whole thing, turning to one of the monitoring officers. "Status and position on Invader one." he demanded quickly. The answer was immediate.

"Moving toward the area where Team Two's last transmission came from. Status normal"

Guile cursed, gripped his communication device. "Dammit, Storm! What do you think you're doing?!?"

The answer was calm, if tensed. "I'm going to try to take the guy down. I've read his files, heard about his style of fighting and just heard the kind of personality he has. He's strong, but he's very overconfident. I can take him."

"Now you're the one being overconfident!"

"Nope. If I was overconfident, I wouldn't feel this queasy. I'm not all that certain about myself. However, he's right: we may lose more men. At least, even if I don't knock him out, I can soften him a lot."

Guile took a deep breath, steadied himself. This mission was quickly turning into a nightmare. "Look, I'll be the first to admit your skill, but that guy isn't just a thug! He's much more dangerous."

"Captain, with all due respect, you don't know the depths of my skills yet. Hello, sir."

"Ohoh!" exclaimed Crackerjack's voice in a dangerously affable tone. "Gotta give it to ya, kid, coming here with no weapons, by yusself. Really got the kind of guts I like. Hope your ready to have your skull smashed."

"Well see about that." and hsi com-line became only static from there on.

Guile cursed at this, cursing the young man, cursing the fates for allowing a fight which's outcome he could only wait for. But he also knew the kid was right, had ion fact taken the path he would have taken. Storm was definitely the only one in the invasive team which could take Crackerjack down and survive it. He was the only one with enough skills. He had to trust him and wait out the fight.

Oh, he had the feeling that it would be a frustrating wait!

* * * * * * * * * *

At about the same time...

Everick entered his private apartment, tired out. These days were not good. They were in fact more than just not good, they were disastrous. At least as far as the Circle was concerned. Months of underground warfare - first against MI6, then against other agencies as well - had cracked the iron shell around the organization's safety and rendered it quite fragile. Many lesser lairs and a few higher ones had already fallen apart. Only the will of the Elders and the stability of some lairs - like Kale's - allowed the Circle a possible survival. Possible, yes, if one did not know what Everick knew.

Everick knew that Rose and many other psychics had agreed to attack the Elders, had discovered it through means even the old Circle leaders had no idea how to use, so he really doubted they knew. He could have told them, he supposed, about the impending attack, but chose not to, knowing that bringing the Elders down was what Bison had wanted to do. If someone else did it, what would they be to stop it?

Hypocrites, that's what. And Everick disliked feeling like an hypocrite.

And there was the fact that many of the main operation that the Circle had instigated to cause turmoil and escape the lawful agencies of the world, had discovered and targeted by those very agencies. He knew, for he was one of those who had organized the leaks that had tipped the authorities. He hadn't felt that bad, even though he was betraying the place he had grown up in. It wasn't the circle he was loyal to, after all. It was Kale. Kale was the only person he saw as a sort of real friend, more so than that assassin, Vega. If Kale chose to follow the Circle's order, then so would he. If Kale chose to join his older brother, Bison, then so would he. It was the way he made his life work.

And yet. In one way, he'd betrayed that old trust, when he'd chosen to let that Shinobi live and be whole when it was clear Kale had wanted the opposite. He hadn't been able to bring himself to kill that young woman. Although he knew it wasn't any kind of infatuation that motivated him - Everick had long ago killed such emotions that dwelled within him, the last glimmers surely gone when he'd had to kill Cindy - it was something that went both with and beyond respect. He saw something of himself within her, something that had died over the years, that had withered in his fights and trials. A passion he'd once had. But was that all? Was that all that had prevented him to do what he'd already done so many times before without hesitation?

Hah! He was in no way adept at soul-searching. He was a hunter of the physical, not of the mental.

The phone rang. He picked it up, sitting in a chair in his spartan living room. "Everick."

"What an announcement! One can feel the warmth all the way here!"

The voice was hard to define - it was young yet possessed an ageless quality. Jolly yet grim. It sounded like a man much his age speaking, but some slight variations in the tone seemed to point to someone who wasn't. He felt like he did when he had spoken with an Elder - in the presence of one who had lived very long and very dryly. Except this one hadn't lived as dryly. And he was older, far older.

"Who are you?" he demanded calmly yet grimly "How did you get this number?"

Thew voice seemed amused. "Phones are nothing to me. I spoke to Graham Bell when he invented the thing. Quite an inventor, that young child. But even if I hadn't, lets just say that there is nothing beyond my reach. As for my name, you should know it well enough, for your friend told you about me."

Had he be that kind of man, Everick would have gasped as realization blazed in his mind. Instead his voice barely sounded different than before. "Belsar. The Ancient Belsar. That must be who you are." he stated.

"Truth." said the ageless voice, becoming serious. "Now I wish to know about the child, the one you called Dessara. Has she been transported?"

"She has."

"Goood! That gives me one less thing to worry for. Did you arrange for her to be trained. She should be, since she has great gifts."

Everick was feeling like he absolutely had no control over the situation, and that wasn't something he liked or was used to. Consequently, his tone grew colder than ever when he next spoke to his interlocutor.

"I have arranged for her to be given the best training that can be found. You needn't worry yourself. However, I must say I am rather displeased with the way you gather information."

"Are you that much better, Vincent?"

Everick frowned, but deep inside he was a little startled by the words that had just been spoken. "Why this name? My name, as you well know, is Everick. I answer to none other than that one."

The voice on the other side seemed amused. "Perhaps. But I thought you should know the name your parents gave you - before the Circle killed them and took you away, that is. They really seemed to think the name suited me."

Vincent, eh? So that was the name I was given at my birth, he thought, then shook his head slightly. "That name means nothing to me. I was too young then. There was ever only Everick. Vincent died with his parents."

A sigh. "Not totally. Your soul has some redeeming qualities yet, Everick, Remember this. And by the way, watch out, your about to be stung with a dart from behind!" The line was cut abruptly. Everick looked at the line for a moment, confused by the last words this strange man had uttered, when he felt a sharp jab of pain from his neck. He did not cry out in surprise, as other men might, nor did he show pain. But he did start and put an hand there, coming up with a small, black dart. Everick had been around the world. He knew the make. Calmly, he turned around.

"You are very good, Shinobi. Very few indeed ever got this far without I feeling them out. You can tune your spirit to your surroundings." he paused "However, you should not have come. I did warn you that I could give no second chance, Ibuki."

As soon as this was said, a young woman, lithe and athletic, dressed in the Shinobi outfit that Geki's clan used, stepped out of a corner and faced him. He showed no emotion outwardly, but something within him felt sorry for her.

She spoke at last, her voice firm. "I have come to issue a formal challenge to you, Shadow Walker."

He shook his head. "You know that if you do so, your clan will have no right to retaliate against me if you are killed. Their honor would be blemished. And I know just HOW much Geki cares about honor, no matter the quantity of blood that stain his hands."

She nodded. "I know so. And I accept it. Do you accept my challenge?"

And then Everick did something he had done very rarely in his life of cold secrecy, stalking and death. He smiled. It wasn't a very good smile, it came from someone who wasn't used to doing it, and the rest of his face had difficulty following. But for a few seconds, the coldness of the man's face lifted, and one would have seen a man who'd seen too much to care anymore, done to many things and suffered too long to allow emotions to rule his life. A bitter, sad face. For a moment, Everick the Shadow Walker looked like an hurt man.

And then it passed, and the cold returned to his features. When he spoke, his voice could have put icebergs to shame. "You evidently prepared yourself for this fight. Daylight, a little chemical that will no doubt negate most of my powers. All this will come down to a fight of skills. I accept your challenge." He took a fighting stance, calling upon years upon years of training and studying under martial arts specialist. He saw her take a similar stance, more agile and graceful than his. She had the most fighting skills.

But she was a fool if she thought skills could defeat him that easily. She wasn't the first opponent to try this stratagem, and he'd bested everyone who had tried it. He could best a deluded teenager, no matter the fact that she'd been trained by possibly one of the very best ninja in the world. There was just one problem. He wasn't sure he wanted to win, this time

No time to become soft, Everick, he remonstrated himself mentally.

Prepared, he moved towards her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Around that time...

Jeremy reeled backward from a blow to the face. He groaned and faced his opponent grimly, knowing it was better never to show any little bit of weakness. Not with that kind of guy. Not with a guy who held a bat, had hands that could give a helluva punch, and mostly a guy who would happily splatter his brains all over the floor of the room. Like these poor soldiers, who might or might not be dead, he was too busy to verify it.

The dark-skinned, muscular man in front of him gave a low chuckle, and jerked his sturdy bat in his direction. "I'm pretty impressed, kid. You're not like these four. You can take a few hits and still come back for more!"

Jeremy smirked, resuming his full fighting stance. "I'm mighty glad you think so, pally. You've seen nothing yet, however." And he lunged toward his opponent.

It was a quick, precise attack, aimed at the stomach, then at the head, a combo that would have made many men feel dizzy, if it hadn't knocked them out to begin with. Crackerjack did neither of those things. He took the punch squarely, without the barest shadow of discomfort, then caught the hand aimed for his face easily. Then his knee found Jer's own abdomen, hitting him hard. The SCD doubled up, barely saw the hand that held the bat sweeping towards him before the impact came and he was flung both away and aside. He wobbled on his feet, the impression of weakness clear. His opponent tapped the bat on his other hand, clearly enjoying all this greatly.

"You're much better. Very quick, tough, strong." he smirked "But not nearly enough."

And then it was Jer who had to resist attacks. Fist, bat, leg, the attacks came. They came with surprising speed, belying the slowness the man seemed to show. A shot to his ribs, he coughed as air came out. He never had the time to recover as another shot caught him below the chin, lifting him up the ground quite nicely, he back-flipped, landed unsteadily on his feet, resumed an uncertain position, but had no time to form any defense before he was greeted by a booted foot, right in the chest, making him have a small voyage on top of one of the dead-or-at-least- unconscious soldiers. Fumbling for a moment, he regained his footing and came back one his feet, glaring.

The guy was tough, and it was amazing he could be THIS tough without having ANY kind of style. All he saw were tidbits of boxing, some wrestling, but mostly all of the moves he saw were just really worked up tidbits off attacks that people that lived on the streets themselves learned. They were very practiced, heightened by the gang boss's natural strength and aided by his very great ability to withstand hits, but it was all still street things. Which proved Crackerjack was someone to be weary of.

However, Jeremy had noted something else. The man was overconfident. And surprisingly gullible.

THAT he knew from the streets. He smiled inwardly. Cracker here was an utter fool not to notice.

"You know you can't win." he said "Not against all the people outside. Even if you get me, and no matter how many others you get, you'd tire out eventually. They need that hiding place, they need what you know, and they'll get it!" Not that he intended to lose, but stating the truth might help, at least a little.

The dark-skinned man just sneered. "Maybe. Or maybe they'll get tired of sending kids to die. Kids like you!"

Jeremy gave another battlecry, advanced, crouching. He dodged the bat, got within striking distance, and pummeled the jerk with speed and violence. Punch after well-placed punch, kick after kick, he actually forced the man to give up ground before him. For a moment, the battle swung to his advantage.

Then Crackerjack growled. The hit took him to the shoulder, the abs, the chest. He felt shots at his ribs, and jerked around like a doll, trying to block, mostly failing. The thug wasn't playing anymore. He was laying on him, with all of his strength. Shots to his head made his head ring, and finally, after one last punch, the man swung his bat at him, using his momentum, all of his strength, and hit him in the ribcage. He gave out a cry of pain, then was flung off to the side, crashing into the wall with violence. The bat split in two under the force. Crackerjack panted, then grinned.

"Told you, kid." he panted slightly "Not good enough." then he chuckled. For a moment. Before another chuckle joined his.

Jeremy's chuckle. Jeremy, who was standing up, smirking. The SCD was feeling the ache from the attacks all over his body, but not nearly as much as he should have. The secret? Chi. Chi to keep his endurance and stamina. That and the fact that he'd use tactics.

"Poor moron." he sneered "Didn't you see the way I jerked each time you hit me? Didn't you understand that I was absorbing the damage that way? You hit me, my limb moved away a split second before, softening your blow, my chi diluting it to nothing. You gave me an uppercut? Fine, I back-flipped with it, literally rolling back with the punch. You fueled MY movements with YOUR attacks. If you'd been bright, you'd have noticed and arranged your attacks so that the blows really hurt, but nooo, you were busy strutting." he laughed "And to say they talk about you like your something, Cracky! You're just an oversized THUG!"

And then he attack. The chi that had been directed to protect fueled his movements, pumping through his veins, mixing with the adrenaline, enhancing speed and strength. The dark-skinned man gave a punch, Jeremy dodged, stepping away and around. Quick, powerful kick to the ribs. A backswing. He caught it, shifted and tossed the man into a wall, sending his foot ramming into his face with abandon. Still, the man did not go down.

He got up and glared, then lunged for him.

They grappled for a while, and Jeremy felt he was losing this thing. Strengthwise, Crackerjack was still his superior, chi or not. He got hit a few times, then disengaged. No way he was attacking this guy head-on, too strong. He stepped back, crouch slightly, waited for the man to make a move. He drew chi in his forearm, letting it flow. Amazing how easier it came now, ever since Rose had given him some tips on channeling power. Crackerjack lunged. And just as he reached him, he swung his fist towards him, letting the chi hit him in its stead.

"SKY BREAKER!"

The shadow fist made of energy flung the killer away, and he took the opportunity to gather energy into his other fist. This time, it was even easier. This technique he had learned long ago, and had perfected over the years. Just as the man got back on his feet, he put his hand, palm out, towards him.

"FLARE TALON!"

The chi projectile flew forward, impacting on the man's chest. It sent him on one knee, that was all. Evidently the thug could take a far greater amount of punishment than he. He entered back within fighting range, never losing focus, never losing track. He put his will into the fight, looking for openings, exploiting them. The his tall, muscular adversary couldn't keep up. 'He's extremely powerful, but lacks finesse and speed.' he thought as he fought 'That doll, Juli, was actually a MUCH better opponent, far more deadly, extremely difficult!'

Finally, after exchanging blows, starting to pant, his muscles groaning against the strain, pain finally shooting through him - damn, that guy could HIT! - he dodged one last time, launching himself into the air, Summoning his chi into his lower body as he came down like a descending bird of prey, calling upon the improved version of a move his grandfather had invented.

"GRIFFON STRIKE!"

The blow brought the man down, nearly drilling him into the ground. He gave a last grunt, then lay down and did not move again. Jeremy leaned against the nearest wall, panting, his chi low, his bones aching, surrounded by men that might be dead but still satisfied. They had the darn guy. Richmond and so many people might be saved now. He took his com, which lay on the ground.

"This is team one leader." he panted "Four men down. Request medical aid immediately, captain."

"Understood." came Guile's gruff but relieved voice. "So, I wager you got him, Storm?"

Jeremy gave a weak, tired smile. "You bet, sir. I just hope he's got some info." he looked at the bodies of the other soldiers "Cuz I think we want them to know they did this for something worthwhile."

* * * * * * * * * *

Around that time...

'Fighting is not only based on the perfection of skills, or on the strength and raw power of the contenders.' Geki had once told her, when she was little and only beginning to learn. 'Fighting an opponent takes passion and drive, a need to survive and prevail. That is the way that true warriors fight. Remember it well, Ibuki.' And she had believed it. Then and now. After all, it was pure logic.

However, it helped her little as of this moment, for the will of the one she was facing easily rivaled her own. It did not seem like it from the looks of it - a cold, emotionless facade was all that could be externally seen - but beyond that lay great strength, which showed through the weakness that the drug had induced. She had been right not to underestimate Everick, the Shadow Walker.

It hadn't been easy, tracking the man down. She'd had had to use many connections, some very unreliable sources, and a lot of luck, and it had pushed her deductive ability to the limits. But finally she'd found his private quarters in Limerick, and had waited for the right time to attack the man. She had been certain that if his powers were fully arrayed against her, she would never stand a chance, and thus had used a dart treated with Merioses Venom, a rare plant that had the property of blocky the special connection between normal human nerves, and the special genetic places where chi and psychic powers could be channeled from. That, and the fact that he was so tired that he never noticed her before she was ready, had given her a definite advantage.

But not a very big one. Even with his powers sluggish and weariness holding him down, the man was no slacker. Quick and strong, he showed a perfect blend of savate, karate, judo and ninjitsu, all honed by years of arduous training. Already most of this apartment had been trashed by their battle.

She blocked a punch thrown in her direction, than evaded a well-placed mid-kick narrowly. As she evaded, she jumped in the air, somersaulted above his head, barely avoiding the ceiling, and was down back on the floor just as he turned around. It was too slow - weariness and the venom were making him a bit sluggish - and he was unable to do much when shee swiped his feet from under him. He came flat on his back with a wuff - on of the few sounds he'd made since the beginning of the fight - and she pounced on him quickly.

However, his reaction was even quicker. His foot lashed out just as she came on him, and she barely had the time to defend, wincing at the adrenaline-driven impact. She stepped back and he rolled to his feet, standing up with his fighting stance at the ready. They faced each other silently, while she tried to force the pain in her arms and legs to begone.

He then spoke, his voice only slightly betraying the fatigue he had to be feeling. "You fight well, Shinobi. You definitely hold Geki's strength in you."

She nodded back. "You also fight incredibly well for someone cut off from power and so exhausted. It is an honor to face you."

"However, you should know that you never should have...come here." he said, attacking again.

He came in quickly and cautiously, his movements a bit jerkish despite himself. She was ready for him. She dodged or blocked the combo of quick jabs he threw at her, followed by a sweeping, powerful back-kick. She barely had the time to duck, but duck she did, and as she did, she took out a kunai, throwing it at at certain place and angle in the ceiling, where it embedded itself to the hilt. She then found herself staring at his back - so tired was he his movements were starting to slow tremendously - and channeled her chi into her hand, until there was a soft blue-green glow around it. She then threw it at an area just beside his spine.

"RAIDA!!"

Everick jerked and actually groaned in pain - probably the equivalent of a scream to him - as his nervous system went through a temporary shut-down. She immediately drove both elbows into his back, driving him forward, then jumped and caught the hilt of her embedded kunai.

It held. She'd thrown it at a wood beam, at an angle that very much stuck it there as it was part of the wall. It would not hold forever, but would do long enough to fit the task she'd given herself. Everick was turning around at last dazed - and she brought both of her feet into his face, breaking his nose, sending him backward. Clutching his face, dazed, he fell to his knees, panting. He wouldn't be holding out for long, she was fairly certain. She fell back to the ground, and approached him from behind, preparing a blow strong enough to render him unconscious and, thus, end the battle in her favor as she intended it to be.

But then something happened. She felt his body tense as she approached and also sense - impossible - the stirring and channeling of power. It was driven by something probably akin to desperation, past the blockage of the Merioses Venom. His aura flared to life for a moment, returning to something nearly as powerful as it normally was for a few moments. And during that moment, Everick whirled toward her, clapping his hand toward her and focusing his energy into a single attack.

"SHADOW PULSE!"

Shadowy tendrils thrust towards her, and Ibuki felt as if she'd be hit by a battering ram. She was flung far back ward, into a sofa, breaking it on impact, ruining the last piece of intact furniture in the whole area. She felt almost incapable to breathed, her limbs were on fire, her whole body groaned when she made even the slightest move. Still she held on, faced the Shadow Walker as he came to unsteady feet. The toll of the battle was taking her strength, but he had far less of it left than she.

"Very...good." he panted. "But...I...am not...defeated...yet!"

She came to her feet, despite the strain on her muscles, and prepared herself to charge him one last time.

"No...hff...yet, true." she coughed. "But you will...hff...now!" and she took a decided step towards him.

She never went farther.

As she stepped forward, she felt as if a bomb had exploded within her mind. She gasped and cried out, knowing a psychic attack for what it was. The shinobi tried to put up defenses against it, defenses learned during her training, but the mind behind the attack was very practiced, very powerful...and angry. totally, extremely angry.

'FOOL! You DARE go against what is mine?!? You will pay dearly for this!!!' a voice raged in her mind.

The pain intensified, and she fell to her knees, clutching her head. She had never felt a psychic attack before - had heard of it, seen its effects, but had never felt one - and she couldn't help but start to whimper a bit as psychic energy started to wrack through her body, giving her no chance, no mercy. Her vision started to cloud.

'This is Limerick! I am LORD here! How dare the shinobi come to meddle in my affairs! I will crush your little mind!!!' the voice continues, almost sneering, still deadly serious.

Through the pain, she felt someone else step towards her. Quickly. Enraged. Intent on doing her the most harm he could. The man she could not really distinguished, except for the fact he seemed physically smaller than the Shadow Walker and that he was giving off an aura of immense power. Oh, it wasn't anything like Bison's, but it was still downright scary. She felt herself being taken by the neck, and she fought weakly. She then felt as if someone had driven a thousand daggers in her body, and she screamed. She then heard a 'Humph!' of disgust, and crashed into the wall a second later, she fell down, her mind starting to fade away from consciousness, the pain ever intensifying.

"Kale! Stop! You're killing her!" came a voice. Everick's. Actually sounding concerned.

"Yes, I noticed that, my friend." Snapped the smaller man in an irritated voice. "That's the point of my attack, after all! She will no longer be a problem."

"No! This is not what I want! This is not how I want things to be!" was the forceful answer.

What remained of her conscious mind wondered why the man bothered to protect her so much. What was the point to him sparing an enemy not only once, but twice? She just couldn't understand the principle behind it all. And yet she heard actual concern in the voice, and it seemed to bemuse the one called Kale, who turned toward the Shadow Walker.

But she never went further in her musings, as the pain finally overcame her, and she was thrust into the cool, peaceful darkness of no thoughts.

* * * * * * * * * *

As time passes...

November 4, 1998, Richmond

Dear Cammy,

I know I promised to write more often, but I'm afraid I couldn't help it these days, my love. Things have been kinda hectic, as I, Guile and so may others try to unravel the unnerving mystery of the placement of the bomb in Richmond. It was a trying time, and I've seen a good many cases of frayed nerves and angry fits. This isn't surprising, as the streets are no longer very safe for us, and it's hard to gain any insight and info at the best of times.

Fortunately, we have Guile around. Have you ever met him? You'd like him as much as I do, I'm sure! Tough, decisive, passionate, very driven, he's the perfect kind of commander for this mission, even though I can tell he'd much prefer be right beside me on the streets than giving orders from behind. And why not, this guy's a helluva fighter! But back to the situation of Richmond.

We finally learned where it is the bomb is! A goon named Crackerjack - you surely heard of him - had the info and we got it from him - although I had to beat him senseless to get it (I can still feel the aches from our battle, arg) and the interrogation session, I heard, involved Guile almost doing the same again. But we got the info. And right now Guile is preparing the mission with the rest of the senior staff - he put me in it, isn't it cool? - and we should get under way really soon!

To finish this, I want to say how much I miss you, miss your presence. I long to see you again soon, my sweet, sweet love. I really look forward to our wedding, after all the things we went through in this war. Well, have to go, duty calls!

Take care, beloved,

Jeremy


November 11, 1998, Hong Kong

Dear love,

I hope you won't look too much a the way this is written, because I'm not really good at writing letters. But since phones are pretty much out since we must use them for the ops, well, I'll make this a try. Let me start off by saying that I'm really glad - and by that I mean REALLY REALLY glad - to know you're doing okay back at the Stars and Stripes, and that what you're doing seem to be heading the right way! It was a relief when we learned it here - no one wants to see a nuke go off!

Things are going both well and frustratingly here. I'm starting to get along with Chunli - although I have to put up with teases on the coming wedding. Once she'd gone past the surprise that I was actually expressing myself - and I'm sure you can tell just HOW expressive I can get, she became very friendly and open. She's a darn good field officer too, and speaks highly of that Captain Guile of yours.

As for our own ops, I gotta admit its not going as well as it should go. We know that its the Circle that's involved in those murders, but it seems its not Circle operatives who are DOING the murders. I'm not as good as you are for gathering info, but Chunli certainly is, and she's heard a lot of reports that state that there's creature roaming around, named Necro, who's murdering the Interpol agents. Why he's doing so we intend to know very soon. Hope it won't bring more problems.

I'm looking forward to seeing you again, too, darling. I miss the way you smile to me, the way you can hold me close against you. I am happy to be in the action here in Hong-Kong, but I'm way happier to just be with you. Have a good time, my love.

The one who misses you,

Cammy


November 21, 1998, Washington

Dear Cammy,

I'm writing this letter both joyfully and angrily. You might wonder about this, thinking it impossible, since these two emotions should be mutually exclusive, but let's just say I've got my reasons. As for what they are, lets see: I'm glad because we did it, we found the damn bomb! Hurrah! Relief, party and all. And I'm angry because that cocky, arrogant fool, Desmarais, almost blasted the whole mission.

Let me explain the mission: we gathered that the bomb was hidden deep somewhere in the third basement of an old, decrepit building in downtown Richmond, so we needed to be stealthy. Our teams, with Guile in command - he refused to miss a piece of THIS action - had to secure certain positions and take the sentries by surprise, thus preventing a fullscale slaughter AND the activation of the bomb. Sounds fine, right? I thought so too.

However, it seems the bastard Desmarais didn't think so. He probably we were all a bunch of softies or such, because he completely disregarded the battle plan and procedures and charged more than one sentry. He did get them both, that stupid showoff, but not before one gave a cry of alarm, and that was sufficient to bring them all up our ears. The battle we wanted to avoid took place anyway.

Damn, I shouldn't be writing when I'm this angry, but I always tell you what bugs me, and I'll always be honest with you. We managed to get them before THEY managed to activate the bomb - have you ever seen Guile's Sonic Boom? Wow, only my Nova Flare can match it - but we lost five men, got seven others wounded, two gravely. Twelve casualties, because of him! And he wasn't among them. I slugged him as soon as I saw him, and I think any of the others who were there would have done the same. I swear I'll have Julia throw him out of the SCD as soon as I'm back. If she allows me, I'll personally boot his ass to the door.

But that's that. At least we made it here, right? Guile told me that that was what really counted, but still he was my subordinate. Twelve casualties, dammit. But that's enough. I'm going to a big bash the team put together to celebrate, I've no intention to miss it, I really need the cheer at this moment.

Oh, my love, I'd need you with me right now. I'm feeling so lonely without you. How are you? How is your investigation going? I hope its good. Because if it is, that means the Circle's getting closer to its end, and that means we'll be together sooner. Hope you haven't forgotten I love you. If you did, well, I LOVE YOU!

Take care, my love,

Jeremy


November 29, 1998, Hong Kong

Dear Jeremy,

First things first and before anything else, stop! Stop blaming yourself for the deaths of these soldiers. I'll admit that you sure can be angry at Desmarais for what he's done, but I won't have you start doubting yourself for it. If you do, then I'll personally give you a wonk on the the bloody head as soon as we meet!

Second, and just as important, GREAT! You stopped the bomb! We actually learned it before the letter arrived, and we had our own little celebration, Chunli and I. We were pleased but not very surprised, I gotta say. I knew you could pull it off, my love, and Chunli seemed to have an almost equal faith in Guile's abilities. You're right, I think I'd like the guy, from what I've heard of him thus far.

As for our mission, we think we have a lead on the group that the Circle sent. Its not much, but enough to go on. We tried to find info on that killer, Necro, too, and so far we came nearly empty-handed. What's known is that he was part of a super-secret group led by someone called 'Gill'. Although 'was part' is probably an exaggeration - I think the man wasn't part of anything, but rather a lab rat that went while. Just a personal hunch. We'll know soon enough.

I'm tired and I'm cranky these days - you should see the paces I put poor Glosshouse and Fengen through, poor fellows! I'm starting to really miss your relaxing and enjoyable massages, love. I really could use one right this moment. I miss you so much. I hope we can beat the Circle soon, and see each other even sooner!

And just so you know, I love you too. So much.

Always yours,

Cammy