--The Makai, Hawaii, circa The Adept (Part 2)--

"Well, I guess that concludes our meeting," Meliza says, looking around at each respective company representative for the Kanzuki Zaibatsu, Umbrella Pharmaceuticals and Iris Industries, also accompanied by an assembly of suited lawyers. In each of their hands they're holding a copy of the contract they've just formed together. Just as Meliza rises from her seat, the lawyers and company representatives follow suit. Almost simultaneously, the suited lawyers and company representatives rise from their seats and head towards the door.

"A pleasure, Ms. Rinaldo." There was no denying the formal, almost dry tone in Shibazaki's voice, whether or not his words were sincere. The Kanzuki family steward shakes Meliza's hand a final time. "I'm sure that Miss Karin will be pleased with the special arrangements you've also made on her behalf."

"Good day to you," Gisela, VP of Iris Industries, says with a friendly smile. "My people will be in contact with your people shortly before the start of the tournament"

"As will mine," is Meliza's reply, bearing an equally friendly smile. It is, needless to say, a strong contrast to the cool, sharp businesswoman that Gisela and the others had seen from Rinaldo throughout the meeting.

Umbrella's representative, the last one to leave, does no more than give a small nod. All that now remain are Meliza's own group of lawyers, who are busy amassing the necessary paperwork and murmuring among themselves briefly, before they too make an exit. At least that's over, she states inwardly, reaching for her mobile phone and dialling in a few digits. When the sound of the connection opening reaches her ears, Meliza is then met with expected silence. Erica is well aware of who is on the other end and so the need for prompting is unnecessary. "Erica, how long until our guests from Tokyo arrive?"

"They should be here in about 5 minutes," Erica responds. "I've just finished finalising the arrangements," she also adds.

"Good," Meliza notes, ending the conversation soon after. Everything should go smoothly, then.

Indeed, five minutes later, the guests from Tokyo would arrive to a gracious welcome on behalf of The Makai. Hours later, all three tournament hosts' personnel would unleash the news of the Champion of Fists through their joint PR engine worldwide, reaching some places before others over the course of a few days.
 

--An Apartment Complex, Kyoto--

"In spite of the growing opposition from human rights groups, the general consensus concerning the new tournament is that it will be a huge money maker, with many companies fighting for a chance to become a part of this grand spectacle. We spoke to Iris Industries' director of-"

"Hey," Ibuki shot a quick glance over to the intruder holding the remote in their hand, having just unapologetically changed the channel and cutting off the news broadcast. "I was watching that!"

Pretending not to hear her, Sarai maintains her search for something more interesting for her to watch. It doesn't last long, though, for after realising that the other stations have nothing good to offer, she's forced to return the remote to Ibuki who casually switches back to the news broadcast channel with a satisfied grin. It's now showing a slightly stocky, middle-aged man wearing a striped button-up and a blue tie, currently giving his endorsement.

"As the past Street Fighter tournaments have shown, for example," he says. "There's always people who are willing to see these fighters in action. All we're simply doing is helping give the fans what they want."

"Maybe so," Sarai says. "But aren't these kinda tournaments usually a front for shady schemes and stuff?"

"I dunno, this one could be different," Ibuki responds. If not for her life as a university student, amongst other things, the teenager would've at least entertained the possibility of signing up for COF as soon as she had the chance. "The Kanzukis are behind this one, and what could possibly happen with them being involved?"
 

--Somewhere in Queens, New York--

Several TV screens, each tuned to different channels but advertising the same thing, cast a flickering glow onto the features of the man staring through the glass window of the electronics store. There is no sound from either of the TVs, but the insignia in the top right corner of each screen proudly bearing the words CHAMPION OF FISTS is enough to inform the figure of what he's witnessing. It is the same logo that's emblazoned on the top right corner of the invitation he's just received today, personally signed by Ken Masters himself.

Alex continues to stare for a few more seconds, eventually turning away from the store and strolling through the typically onrushing crowd. He soon steps into a side alley, and it's then he allows his mind to slip into his thoughts momentarily. To the Street Fighter Champion, those moments feel like centuries.

It'd been a few years since he held the title of Street Fighter Champion now. In New York alone, that distinction often makes Alex a perfect target for many upcoming, strong fighters to test their skills against. What better way to prove myself than by taking down the Champ? many of his challengers would say to him, or something along those lines. For Alex, he saw no better environment in New York that could fuel his burning fighting spirit, outside of his occasional worldwide travels and a few minor tournaments. A fleeting image of Ryu, however, attempts to remind the warrior that not all his bouts end in success, but he simply shrugs it off. It also reminds the warrior that there are always fighters of such greatness out there for him to challenge and learn from, whether through defeat or victory.

That last thought lingers in Alex's mind some more, just as he reaches the end of the alleyway, and his destination. Across the street from where he stands is a building, possessing oak double doors and a relic-looking sign with the words Tom's Gym over it. There were still a couple of weeks until the COF tournament officially began. Until then, Alex had some training, preparation and a good friend of his to see.

--Village nearby the Ganges River, India--

Through the dirt streets several children run, chasing each other in a friendly game of tag. Some merchants, meanwhile, trade produce with the townsfolk in return for coinage. In the midst of all this, one youth strolls through the village. Some of the children, upon seeing him turn and wave, calling out his name loudly. He returns the gesture with a warm smile of his own. For as long as the youth could remember, the village and everyone in it was considered to be his home and family. For as long as Datta could remember, this was the only place he knew, and would perhaps remain the only place he knew. Admittedly, the 12 year old would have it no other way.

Within the village, there stands a stone archway that leads into a courtyard. This courtyard, although quite small and simple in appearance, does not fail to exude a gentle, pleasing aura all the while. In a truly wondrous sight, several elephants bask in the afternoon sun, apparently asleep, and reinforcing the serene nature of this courtyard. Datta strolls over to one, gently stroking it and stirring it to life. The elephant, in turn, uses its trunk to pat the youth gently on the head in a friendly gesture. A large ginkgo tree completes this village courtyard's features, giving off a shade that is no doubt a blessing to the man currently pressed against its base, seated in the position of one indulged in deep meditation.

This is no ordinary man, however, but the great Yoga Master. Before Datta could announce his presence to Dhalsim - not that he would even need to - the monk's eyes open slowly, settling on the youth standing in front of him.

"Datta," Dhalsim remarks. Datta, used to seeing the cool, composed man that is his father is nonetheless surprised at the serious, concerned figure staring back at him.

"Is there something wrong, Dad?"

The expression on Dhalsim's face does not change. "A strange force stirs, my son." As the young teen absorbs those words, Dhalsim continues. "The winds of change are indeed blowing, racing across the globe."

"Do you think it has something to do with this new tournament that's coming?" Datta questions. He'd caught the news of some major fighting tournament on the radio earlier on today. Champion of the Fists, or something like that, he recalls.

"There's a new tournament?" Dhalsim, who has long retired from street fighting, ponders on the revelation for a few moments.

"Yeah," Datta responds. "So... you think it's to do with that?"

"I do not know, my son," Dhalsim admits. This new tournament, and this unsettling disturbance I'm feeling... is there a connection...? "At this current time, I do not know..."
 

--MI-6 Headquarters, London--

"As you already know, MI-6 has been monitoring any attempt at Shadaloo activity around the world for the past several months," Delta Red Chief Commander Watson states. "We have reason to believe that Shadaloo is still around, although they have learned to hide themselves really well over in the West recently."

Delta Red - the anti-terrorist unit composed not only of Watson, but Cammy White, the burly Matthew McCoy, First Lieutenant Lita Luwanda, the young prodigy George Ginzu and, lastly, Colonel Keith Wolfman - listen on attentively. The six of them are currently seated around a long wooden table in a room chosen specifically for this secret meeting. With the exception of Ginzu - he is tapping away at one of the two laptops present in the room - the rest of Delta Red remains focused on Watson.

"So far, the biggest traceable activity discovered has been with this individual." Typing a few commands on the laptop in front of him, the huge wall monitor behind Watson suddenly flares to life. An image of a woman is displayed, wearing a black jacket over a maroon T-shirt and black jeans.

That's Iwa Hoshi, one of Chun Li's disciples, Cammy surmises, blinking with realisation.

The identity and significance of Iwa is lost on Luwanda, however. "So what's so special about her?"

Watson moves the cursor over to the phone held in Iwa's hand and clicks a button, causing that specific area of the image to be enlarged. Although partly concealed by one of Iwa's fingers, there is no mistaking the engraved symbol of a metallic skull with pilot's wings embossed onto the back of the phone case. "That, Lieutenant." He lets the gravity of the situation sink in briefly before he continues.

"The subject's name is Iwa Hoshi," Another image comes up, but this time a dossier fills up part of the screen, edging the picture to one side. "Iwa, however, has not been easy to follow. Due to this, and her apparent connection to Shadaloo, she is currently among the most wanted lists for a large number of crime-fighting organisations."

"What about Agent Li?" Cammy inquires. "Hasn't she been able to locate her?"

"As far as we know, Agent Li of Interpol appears to be stunned by it all," Watson answers. "In fact, considering Iwa's relationship to Agent Li and the history between Li and Shadaloo, Hoshi's apparent defection to that organisation is indeed perplexing."

"So MI-6 wants us to track this girl down?" A man of relatively few words was Matthew McCoy. He is also one who tends to make his statements as straightforward as necessary, when possible.

"If captured, her information on Shadaloo, if any, could prove to be valuable," says the Delta Red Chief Commander. "The only question is where do we be-"

"Umbrella. I believe we should begin with them."

Everyone turns towards Ginzu, who has ceased his activity on the laptop long enough to bear a wide confident grin on his face. It's the look that usually lets the team know he's discovered something big.

"Alright Ginzu, what do you have to report?" Watson asks.

"Well, I'm sure you lot are aware of that new fighting tournament that's been all over the news lately?" Ginzu begins.

"We also know that Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, who you just mentioned, is one of the key corporations behind this tournament," Colonel Wolfman interjects. "Where exactly are you going with this?"

The grin still remains present. "While I did feel that a company like Umbrella taking a sudden interest behind a fighting tournament of all things was quite odd, it wasn't only until I did a little investigation on them just now that my suspicions were confirmed."

"You were gathering information on Umbrella while you were sitting there just now?" Cammy questions.

"Not just them, but all the parties involved. Umbrella just turned out to provide some interesting results, like so." Ginzu types in a few commands on his laptop, and the wall screen monitor behind Watson suddenly goes blank before blinking back into existence, replacing the image and dossier of Iwa with various different windows containing details and images, all laid out in an overlapping manner. The eyes of everyone in the room scan over it all.

"It seems that over the past several months, a mysterious benefactor has been channelling funds to one of Umbrella's branches in Europe," Ginzu types away, bringing several windows into the foreground. "And after hacking into Umbrella's internal network, I was able to uncover an email sent back to this operation addressed to-"

"That's Dr. Hojo, one of Shadaloo's top leading scientists," Cammy exclaims in reaction to the image of the man and dossier now dominating the wall monitor.

"Correct," Ginzo confirms. "Whatever Hojo's up to, it must be something big, especially if he's got Umbrella involved. If one also takes into account that infamous incident in Racoon City, then-"

"The world may very well have a worrying situation on its hands..." Wolfman finishes.

"Indeed, Colonel," Watson concurs. "Good work, Ginzu. We, of course, cannot allow such a situation to happen. I shall take this up with my superiors and return to you with a decisive plan of action." He rises up from his chair. "Meeting adjourned."
 

--Honolulu Shopping District, Oahu--

"What're you complaining about? YOU were the one who said I needed a tan," Natalie says as she drags Jin by one arm into yet another shop in a very long strip of outlet stores. They have just finished going through nearly every store on one side of the shopping centre; now they are starting on the opposite side.

The objective was simple: Natalie needed a swimsuit. Finding one to suit both her taste and her sense of decency, however, was not so simple.

Wearing an expression of slight boredom, Jin waits by the door, leaning against it and idly tilting his head forward only to let it fall back to the wall with a soft thud as Natalie thumbs through the clothing racks in search of the perfect swimwear. Rarely did she ever take this long to pick something, but it was also rare that she shopped anywhere besides a specialty store for clothing. Unfortunately the Hot Topic that was available didn't sell swimsuits.

"Friggin hairy BALLS can't they have ANYTHING besides pastels, flowers and animal print?!"

At least it was somewhat entertaining to watch her. Or rather, the reaction she often got out of complete strangers. One lady was currently escorting her giggling little girl out the door with her hands over her ears. The woman cast an annoyed glare at Nat, who glared back whilst simply asking, "What?" When she didn't answer and simply left, Natalie mutters, "I could have said a lot worse. Obviously nothing she ain't heard before..."

She pulled out a couple of swimsuits and holds them up with an exasperated sigh, turning to Jin who comes out of his thoughts long enough to register the meaning of her words. "What do you think of these?"

A green and white striped one piece and a black tank top and shorts set.

"You do realize that the only part of you that's going to tan will be your arms and legs, right?" he asked.

She hmphed at him and walked to the changing room, talking to him as she pulled the door shut behind her, "It's not like anyone's gonna see anymore than that. Besides, you know I hardly ever tan. I spontaneously combust and when the burn peels off I'll be half a shade darker if I'm lucky..."

He chuckled at that. True enough, he remembered the last time they went to a beach. She came back looking very much like a vine ripened tomato and wound up having to heal herself. He moved to stand by the door as she grumbled and fumbled with the clothing. After a moment she opened the door, poked her head out and scowled at him, "I hate this."

When he quirked a brow at her she opened the door further and he had to try hard not to laugh. She looked a bit like a panda bear. A skinny, very annoyed panda bear.

"This makes me look even whiter than I already am!! And I'm not even going to show you what THAT looked like," she said, pointing dramatically at the other suit. Her scowl deepened, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"You think you can pick something better?"

"Probably." Probably not, really. Nothing that she would actually wear. As she slams the door shut again to change for probably the twentieth time that day, Natalie growls.

"Fine. You pick something!"

Jin sighed and walked over to the rack, pulling out the first thing he saw that wasn't pink or flowery. He tossed it over the top of the door. "Here."

It was promptly thrown back over the door in his general direction. He caught it. "What? There's nothing wrong with this one."

"IT'S A THONG!!!"

Jin blinked and took a closer look. "Oh... so it is. Heh." Well, it was worth a shot. He put it back and randomly picked out ten other outfits and tossed them over in a heap.

"Hey! One at a time!" she complained from the other side of the door. While Natalie griped some more, Jin wandered toward the door. Off in the distance, he hears something... a familiar combination of rock music, fake gunshots and zombie shrieks...
 

--15 minutes later--

Natalie looked at herself in the mirror, finally semi-satisfied. The swimsuit she was going to buy was a red one piece that zipped up the front, although not far enough to hide everything. The back was thankfully not a thong, but not nearly conservative either, cut fairly high above her hips. It covered the scars on her stomach and back well enough, and so all in all she was satisfied. If only there was a way to make it look cooler...

She opened the door to show Jin, "I think this is the one... Jin?"

Who was nowhere in sight.
 

--Jade Dragon Martial Arts Academy, San Francisco--

As a member of the American Kickboxing Association, the Jade Dragon Martial Arts Academy has plenty to be proud of. It is this membership that often accounts for the budding number of people living locally who come to the dojo; some for foolish, selfish reasons - to show off in front of others, for example - whilst others for the simple willingness to better oneself, to possibly travel on the path of the warrior. Over time, once the amount of sacrifice needed to be made to one's lifestyle is realised, the former are soon quick to desert, leaving behind the latter, the truly dedicated.

Those same committed group of students - eight, in fact, of varying sizes and builds - are now surrounding their sensei, Luke Blaze, all in their stances, and all very skilled. Today's exercise would consist of them all sparring against Blaze, to be the latter's last exercise before his journey to Hawaii for his final preparations. Based on the knowledge that none of Luke's combatants would be holding back, his students are instructed to carry out the same. With a small nod, Luke sends out the message that he is ready for them all.

They do not wait long, all immediately rushing in.

Blaze intercepts the first student as he steps inside his punch, grabs the arm and hurls him in a shoulder toss. He crashes into another incoming student, causing both to crash unceremoniously onto the mat. With two students dispatched already, Luke awaits the third that closes in with a side kick. Luke raises his shin to block the attack and instantly reacts with a solid gut punch, taking his attacker down in a crumpled heap. Approaching from the side is a trio of students, who Blaze turns just in time to notice.

"Bring it on!" Luke booms with utmost confidence whilst shifting towards them, unleashing a quick burst of strikes, combinations and dodges that all prove to be too much for the group to take on. The seventh student leaps airborne, zoning down with a poised leg. Blaze takes to the air also, except with a flying knee that impacts soundly against his opponent's solar plexus, sending him lifelessly onto the ground. Recovering quickly from his Rising Knee Smash technique, Blaze looks expectantly over to his final student. Luke had not expected him to be among the first wave of students that rushed in, since, unlike them, Kyle Houston was the most experienced and skilled of the group.

Attempting to raise up Luke's guard, Houston runs in with two stabbing palms, following it up with a kick aimed low. Blaze, who has trained in the hope of facing fighters of Ken's calibre, if not Masters himself, smoothly dodges the first two strikes before he steps back to avoid the third. Urged on by mere instinct, Luke flashes one leg forward and Kyle raises his guard, just as Luke's foot slips past it, connecting with his chin. Houston reels back from the blow, yet Luke is not finished, for he swings that same leg to Kyle's exposed right side, with enough force to make him fall. Kyle does not fall, however, since Blaze grabs the student's right wrist and reels him forward, right into a hook so strong that it causes Houston to spiral as he lands on his back.

Luke glances over his students - some bruised and some semi-conscious, if not a combination of both - with a satisfied smile. Soon he would be off to compete in the Champion of Fists, and discover another part of his destiny.
 

--Nearby arcade, Honolulu Shopping District--

"What? No way..." Jin utters in near-disbelief, staring blankly at the arcade screen as it flashes and glows appealingly at him. The offer to continue the task of decimating the fifth stage's current zombie boss is declined, though. I'll take you out next time, anyway, Jin vows as he places the arcade shotgun back into its holster, leaving in search of the next game to play. A fighting game should do... he decides, strolling over to the nearest fighting game arcade whilst passing a nearby DDR arcade machine, with occupant, along his path without a second thought. What does catches Kushina's attention, however, is a sudden, yet familiar, influx of ki that washes over his senses for a split-second, followed immediately by the voice that accompanies it.

"Waa chaaaaaaaaa!!!"

Jin whirls to the side, towards the DDR arcade machine he nonchalantly passed a few seconds earlier, his mind already placing a name and face to the voice. The figure, upon seeing Jin, cannot hide a brief look of surprise from his face. It doesn't match Kushina's own, though.

"You..." Jin starts "...are the last person I expected to see on this thing."

"Jin? I didn't know you were in Hawaii already." The actor slash martial artist, Fei Long, flashes a small smile, stepping off of the machine as the two fighters nudge fists. He jerks a thumb towards the machine behind him. "You mean you've never tried this before?"

"Yeah, a couple of times," Kushina admits. "Not really my style, though." Natalie, on the other hand, was another story. She's like a different person whenever it comes to that game, he thinks, recalling the seemingly countless hours he's witnessed his fiancée abusing the DDR mat in the apartment. Although Jin was far from being bad at DDR, he was sure that even the most skilled players would look like mere beginners compared to Natalie. "Nice outfit, by the way," Jin comments. Long is wearing a long-sleeved canary-coloured T-shirt with matching tracksuit trousers. Running down the sides of both apparel is a very noticeable black stripe. "Sorta 'Game of Death'-ish, actually."

"Yeah, I suppose," Long agrees, seemingly unconcerned with the similarity. "Say, where's Natalie? It's been quite a while since I seen that one."

"She's around," Kushina responds. "In fact, she's-"

"Over there, I think."

"-trying on a swimsu- over where?" The recognition of Fei's words struck Jin forcibly, causing him to turn to the direction Long's pointing in. Sure enough, his line of vision rests on Natalie's approaching form. At least she's found something, finally, Jin surmises, noticing the shopping bag she's carrying. Whether she was mad at him or not, he couldn't tell - at the moment, she is wearing a neutral expression - yet he regards his fiancée's appearance with an easy grin. Even if she was mad at him somehow, Jin knew it wouldn't last long.

"I had a feeling you'd be here," Natalie begins with a satisfied smile. "I could hear the fake gunshots as soon as I left the store to find you." Her eyes suddenly widen slightly. "Oh Fei! I didn't know you were here as well! I almost didn't recognise you, looking like a banana an' all..."

"Nice to see you again too, Nat-chan," Fei says, smirking at Natalie's almost involuntary frown in reaction to her disliked nickname. She quickly shrugs it off.

"So what're you guys playing, anyway?" Natalie's face immediately lit up as she realises what the three of them are standing in front of, effectively answering her own question. "You mean you went off to play DDR without me?!" She pokes Kushina in the arm emphatically at this, albeit lightly.

"Actually-"

Natalie is already heading towards the platform before Jin can finish, immediately placing in a few credits soon after. He gives up on his fiancée for the moment, knowing that any subsequent words he says will go unheard or ignored. She's like a different person whenever it comes to that game, his mind reminds him.

"So which one of you two wants to face me?" Natalie asks. She points at Fei Long, almost dramatically. "Since I haven't faced you before, how about I take you on first?"

Long is, as far as Jin is aware, not known to ever turn down a challenge. Had he actually been more aware of who he was about to face, Jin surmises, he perhaps wouldn't have been so quick to accept.

"No problem. You're on."
 

--Somewhere in San Francisco, California--

"Are you sure? I thought you liked beating the sh*t outta young punks. Especially when you wouldn't be reprimanded for it."

It came as a surprise to Charlie that his long time friend, Guile, seemed to have no intention of fighting in the Champion of Fists tournament. They were going to investigate it, or rather those who may be behind its sponsorship. As far as Charlie was concerned, they might as well have a bit of fun doing it.

Guile simply grinned. "Nah. Let the kids have their fun. They wouldn't stand a chance if I entered anyhow. It's been a long time since we fought in a situation that wasn't life or death. I think at our age, it'd be boring as hell."

"Ryu and Chun are entering. They wouldn't be pushovers..."

Guile sighs, his grin slipping away. He stares at the desk in front of him, which he propped his feet upon as he leaned back in his chair. His office was less than tidy, as always, with stacks of paperwork that needed doing and miscellaneous junk scattered here and there. Sometimes he really missed the good ol' days when he was simply assigned to go kill some bad guy and that was all he had to do. Going up in rank increased his paychecks, but it had more than one downside...

"I dunno, Nash. I kinda get the feeling that this one's gonna be a lot like the last. If that happens, we need to be a hell of a lot more focussed and prepared this time."

"Being involved in the fights themselves will make it a lot easier to keep an eye on things. Otherwise we'd have a time explaining to the media why the U.S. military is so interested in this little show."

Guile sighed, inwardly agreeing with Charlie's point. He hated the media. Always in his damned business after Shadowlaw was supposedly shut down. People enjoyed putting their heroes under a magnifying glass. 'Kinda like ants,' he thought. Just like ants, however, people also enjoyed burning the occasional hero with their scrutiny.

"Iwa is supposed to be there, so Chun-Li told me on the phone," Charlie continues, pushing his glasses higher upon the bridge of his nose. "If we aren't directly involved, that situation could get very ugly, very fast. That girl is on at least one hundred hit-lists by now, including ours."

Guile rubbed his temples with his thumbs, and then ran his fingers back through his bristle-like hair. "Fine, you got me." Then he smiled. "I do owe an ass-whipping to a few of the old guys."

Charlie grinned, then exhaled heavily, pulling a DVD disk out of one of the many pockets of his vest. "Good. Now I don't have to use this."

Guile eyed the disk and raised a non-existent brow. "What's that?"

"Well," Nash starts, "It was going to be my last resort to get you to enter the fights. But you might as well see it now. It's a video from the Tokyo preliminaries. You might want to see one of the fighters who'll be in the competition..." Charlie extended the disk to his friend, who took it and put it in the DVD rom of his laptop with a suspicious countenance. He watched as two young women fought on the display.

"Sakura Kasugano," Guile states matter-of-factly. "I've seen her before... so?"

"Take a closer look at the other girl."

She was moving very fast, so Guile paused it when a closer shot of her came into view. He stared at the screen for a long moment, eyes a bit wide and mouth slightly open. The hair was much longer, and it had been very long before. The outfit was more gothic, and the fighting style was quite refined. She was slightly taller, much more toned. What was unmistakable was her face, especially those turquoise-coloured eyes...

"That little brat was alive and she didn't tell me?!"
 

--DDR arcade machine, Honolulu Shopping District--

"Aww... you're looking tired Fei! Don't tell me you're ready to drop back to standard mode already..." Natalie chides Fei Long as they both stomp the arrow buttons on the DDR Extreme machine.

"Keep talking, Nat-chan, and I might win this one too..."

"You've got about a marshmallow's chance in hell!"

Jin glances up at the clock over to his right. It's been almost an hour, now? He continues to watch the pair, analysing their footwork and stylised movements as if they were caught up in a trance. He wasn't the only spectator, either, the combined outbursts of Natalie and Fei managing to gather a rather sizable, growing crowd, with various people making their viewpoints known with evident awe.

"Wow! They're doing 'Tsugaru: Apple Mix?!' I've never seen anyone complete that song!" exclaims a random female spectator.

"Yeah, well considering they just finished the speed mix of 'Can't Stop Falling in Love,' it's not surprising. That song was a level 9 on heavy mode!" the guy she was apparently with replies. "Y'know... I once saw someone break his ankle on THAT song. Look at them! I imagine that if someone were on fire, and simultaneously trying to stomp on a horde of deadly spiders... they might move that fast."

"Except it wouldn't be so synchronised," another girl muses.

"Right. I bet they do 'The Legend of Max' next..."

"Yay!" Natalie yells proudly at her victory of the round. She turns to her opponent. "I may have been a lil' rusty a few games back, but you're going down without a doubt this time!"

"Rusty? Sounds like an excuse," Long replies coolly. "Maybe I should give you a head start for this next round."

"Only if you wanna lose, banana boy..."
 

--A highway outside of California--

"Preliminaries for the Champion of Fists tournament are currently underway in many major cities worldwide, the first one, in Tokyo, having ended several days ago. Word has also come out from both tournament hosts, however, that personal invitations have already been sent, with several more to come."

"Y'know, I don't usually pick up or deal with hitchhikers, so you should consider yourself lucky." Cody reaches one hand towards the car radio, attempting to tune it from the current broadcast to one of his favourite stations. The passenger seat, however, is empty. Cody isn't about to be that hospitable towards complete strangers, it seems. "What'd you say your name was again?"

"Volpe," the hitchhiker replies with a relaxed grin. "Aaron Volpe."