By Laughing Fox

While once more attempting to rewrite the beginning couple of chapters in BF for more wantom, gratuitous acts of violence and character development I stumbled on this sucker I wrote... wow.. well, a long time ago. It was good for a laugh, though.

Read on, noble...er... reader!

Or not! Dan groaned. Check that, he mightily groaned. But groaned nonetheless.

“Who, in the seven palette-swapped shades of Sakura’s panties, are you?” Dan asked.

The “who” in this case, would be a nondescript man of average height in an equally nondescript brown fighting gi. Of course, he also wore a headband, wrist guards and was shoeless as well. For all intents and purpose the guy surely had some other unique, more distinguishing features. And there would, indeed, be text to back this up. That is, if the narrator actually cared to go that far into detail about this guy, which he didn’t. So there.

“For the spirit of Shokotan, I train all over the world, known simply by the name of…. Steve!” the figure paused for dramatic effect, waiting for Dan to be impressed.

He wasn’t.

“Uh.. what’s with the arm, pink man?” Queried the less than dazzling warrior known as …Steve.

“Huh?” Dan glanced to his muscle-laden forearm, now firmly locked in taunting position by pure reflex. “Oh, that,” Dan eased his arm downwards. “Gomen.” Dan grinned. “Ano… what was that about Shokotan again? Granted I trained only briefly under Gouken, as a great Master of Saikyo-Ryu like myself needs little of such training, but I have yet to hear a name such as yours mentioned from Ken’s email….”

“Bah! Bah, I say!” bahed the man. “I trained with sensei Gouken for longer than you could ever believe!”

“Eh?”

“I trained under master Gouken on the third holiday of every other leap year! I am his nephews, cousins, romantic interests, former Internet chatroom buddy!” declared Steve with pride.

Dan made an audible slap to his forehead. He knew this would happen.

“Weak!” interrupted our pink-clad hero.

“What’s weak?”

“You are! No, your story is!”

Dan paused, thinking for a moment. “Both are!! *That’s* the best storyline you got? Ah, crap,” Dan snapped his fingers, again rather mightily. “I got it! It’s time for the fourth Street Fighter tournament, isn’t it? Hold on a sec, wilya?…” Dan immediately began flipping through last weeks mail, discarding his own autographed pictures occasionally from the rest of the bunch..

“Hmm… bill… bill… bill..past due.. hey COUPONS! SAIKYO!…bill.. bill…you may have already won our contest…..AHHA!!!”

Dan pulled one letter from the rest of the stack, posing a little afterwards for effect, then actually began reading the letter.. “Mr. Dan Hibiki…yada, yada, yada,.. …despite better judgement… yada yada.. seems we have little other choice… “ Dan quickly pocketed the letter. “Yup, I’m in. So, this would make you what, the fifth generation of the shoto clones? The sixth?”

“What are you talking about?!” cried an outraged Steve. “I am my own unique being! I imitate no one! You would do well not to irritate me, or face my Shokotan style vengeance!!!”

Dan’s left eyebrow twitched. “I bet you fight like a generic Ryu copy, don’t you? Look at your outfit! Let’s see, you have, what? Three whole special moves you just can’t resist hollering the name of every time you use ‘em? I bet you can only taunt once in any given battle, too! At the risk of reusing old taunts from previous tournaments…” Dan grinned wide, flexing his forearm,” You are a true loser!”

“I warned you!!!” Steve shifted into a generic Shokotan stance.

Dan looked bored.

Same made threatening gestures along the same lines of breathing heavily and adjusting his belt.

Dan studied his nails with dire fascination.

“Mock me no longer, pink one! Through a blinding set of punishing moves, I shall engrave the memory of my name on your skull!!”

“Hey, is this going to take long, or can I order a pizza?”

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!! EAT THIS, STEVE UPPER!!” cried Steve as he flew in the air in a horribly generic uppercut, with, yes, an invincibility window. Which Dan blocked.

Um, mightily.

“RAGING WHIRLWIND KICK!!”

Blocked.

“ENERGY BURST MOTION FIST!!”

“Okay, that name was weak,” said Dan as he blasted the horribly, completely, totally generic blue green projectile out of the sky with a girlish swipe of his hand and a production of a pink burst of light. “Hey, look, isn’t that Ryu behind you?” Hibiki pointed.

“OH GOD WHERE?” cried Steve as he whirled around “HIDE ME! HIDE ME!”

*THUNK*

Dan booted him in the head, sending him flying through the air with the greatest of ease.

“What are you, the Dubbed version of Ryu, except you suck?” asked Dan. “And what’s with the name of those attacks?” Dan shuddered. “How can you honestly scream that out in broken English? Any one of my Saikyo-Ryu students could outperform you, vocally, mentally, physically, and more than likely in bed!”

“DIEEEEEE, DAN HIBIKI!” screamed a rather upset Steve as he launched himself towards our pink clad protagonist once more.

*THUNK*

Dan booted him in the head again.

“Fool!” Bellowed Steve, who was now motioning towards the rocks behind him. “You will mock me no longer! I-

“That’ll be the day,” intoned Dan dryly.

“Allies of TRUE SHOKOTAN JUSTICE, EMERGE!!” hollered you-know-who.
Just then about twenty to thirty Gi- endowed fighters walked into view, each with his (there oddly enough was no hers) own shade of color on the Gi.

Dan forced back some manly tears that were attempting to break free. This was *%!@!! humiliating! Every friend, every style he knew of was being ripped off in some way or another. These guys were almost as bad as the Mortal Kombat head swapping ninja syndrome! And they all sounded like they had the same voice actor!

“…it’s…too… much…” Wailed the mighty one, clutching his head and straining to retain all that is SAIKYO within.

All around him multi colored fighting gi’s turned towards the wind, attempting to look cool and reasonably impressive. No matter where he turned, there was another average looking guy with bound hands and a belt tied less than neatly around his waist.

Dan was about to run into his dojo screaming like an anime schoolgirl when ->it<- happened…

A man blocked his path, in a plaid-colored fighting gi. His hair was swept back into a ponytail, the sleeves of his gi were ripped of in a almost as cool as Dan manner.

His fore *leg* quivered in taunt position, like some bizarre version of Mu Thai..

“Dan Hibiki, you have little choice but to succumb to our moderately impressive power!” The newcomer stated. “Once we eliminate the original losers, we will take their place and become the most original once more! Fear me, for I am Phil, and cannot be defeated because I fight for the honor of my chibi Sailor moon doll! PLLUUUSSSHHHIIIEEEE!!!” screamed the man, horribly Dan-like.

Hibiki let loose a strangled little scream of horror.

The Shokotan fighter known as Steve would have said something witty at this point, but due to largely being based of the original Shokotan Ryu this was a moot point.

Then, the biggest, brightest, pinkest battle aura broke out, formed around a pissed off Hibiki. “YOU HAVE MOCKED MY FRIENDS, MIMICKED MY TAUNTS, AND HAVE A POOR CHOICE IN CLOTHING! NOT ONLY THAT, YOU LIKE SAILOR MOON!! I’M GONNA TEAR EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOUR HEARTS OUT WITH A SPORK!! OYYAJJJIII!!!”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

HOURS LATER….

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dan was upset.

“(*^%^%$&^!!!” Intoned the pink one, coughing up soot and smoke.

Scratch that, he was pissed.

The upper portion of his pink gi was in tatters. What was once well groomed, shiny hair fluttered in the winds in bloodied clumps of dirt, loose teeth and spittle. His well shaven and decidedly SAIKYO good looks had been assaulted, even his pointy eyebrows had failed to escape being slightly singed. Catching a glimpse of himself in a nearby puddle of water the Saikyo-Ryuu expert desperately groped his pockets for a comb, some styling gel.. or maybe a Big Mac…

“Mmmmm.. Big Mac…”.

All around him lay the broken and twisted forms of the Shokotan clones. Their black fbelts wafted in the wind, their hand guards broken and twisted, their generic haircuts and faces ruined for the general public.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dan attempted to care.

And failed miserably.

Absently he spit a chunk of fighting gi out of his teeth.

A girlish wail of pain sounded behind him.

“This…isn’t over!” Moaned the battered hunk of flesh, formerly known as the less than amazing Shokotan clone known as Steve.

“Oh?”

“Wherever there are ignorant fanboys, we will emerge!” Steve bellowed. “Wherever intellectually and creativity impaired producers of Street Fighter series are we WILL BE THERE! MUHAHAHAHA! IT’S NOT OVER.. NOT BY A LONG SHOT! MUHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-huh?“

*SPLAT!*

Dan blinked absently as the poor excuse for a Ryu clone was suddenly, horribly, rather brutally, but not quite sadly crushed by a massive concrete donkey falling from the sky.

“……” Dan said.

Don’t ask.