Birth of the Cold Dragon

Media Outlet Fan Fiction Library
1

Birth of the Cold Dragon
Chapter 1: Crimson Tears
Part 1: Death of the Flaming Dragon
Author: Ryunnosuke
Date: April 2, 2006

Writer’s Notes: I was looking around Shoryuken.com when I found the fanfiction section, and after reading a few examples of the work there, found my writing bug kicking up again. I’ve written things in the past, but alot of those works tended to end prematurely or from the lack of will to continue. Combined with my renewed fixation with SF3: 3rd Strike, I found a lot of ideas popping in my head. This is the my attempt to put those ideas to paper, so to speak. But, I can’t write if I don’t know if I’m doing a good job, so it is encouraged to leave a props or slops in respose. Also, this is the timeline I’m using, which for the most part, is canon to the SF world.
1964 - Ryu Born
1965 - Ken Born
1987 - Street Fighter 1 (initial release date)
1991 - Street Fighter 2 (initial release date)
1997 - Street Fighter 3 (initial release date)
2006 - Present Day
1992 - Mel Born (Mel was 5 during SF3)

March 2006, 3:01 PM, Pemburke Private Academy

Mel Masters ran for his life. The startled cries of his friends were left behind, as he slammed through the front doors of his private school and bowled people over in his desperate rush. Mel made his way towards the car his butler drove him to and from school, despite any obstacle, man or object alike. They certainly would be angry later, but he couldn’t afford the time at the moment. He screamed for the chauffer to go as quickly as possible to his home.

A slender hand reached down and picked up the cell phone Mel had dropped. Kyoko, one of Mel’s friends, put the reciever to her ear, but could only hear sobbing drowned out by the roaring of… flames?

March 2006, 2:50 PM, 11 minutes earlier…, Masters Mansion

Eliza Masters sat on the deck of her home, reading her favorite magazine under a patio umbrella. Well, she wasn’t really reading it. Eliza was using it to hide the fact that she was admiring her gardener. Normally, for a married woman, such a thing would be considered scandalous. But, luckily for Eliza, the gardener was her husband. And absolutely destroying her gardenias.

“Hey, hon? How many gallons of water did you say these flowers needed?” Ken called.

“Just two, sweetie. Be sure to give each of the plants a little.” Eliza answered, sighing as she basked in the warmth of the sun.

“A little? I don’t think two gallons per plant is a little, dear.”

“…Hon? You realize you are only supposed to use two gallons for the all of the plants, right?”

“…oops.”

Eliza sighed again, this time from the irratation at her husband and his unique ability to kill plants without even trying, and at herself for attempting to believe otherwise. Ken strolled around the hedge and into her view. Even at a ripe age of forty two, Ken Masters was a remarkably handsome man. The hard muscles of his youth hadn’t disappeared with the exercise program he mantained. Eliza knew, from the moment that she had met him, that love at first sight was a reality with Ken. She smiled as her husband came over and gave her an apologetic kiss.

“Sorry,” Ken said. “I can’t help the fact that plants hate me.”

“Don’t worry,” Eliza responded. “I’ll find a way for you to make it up to me.” Her hands began to roam, lighting a smile from Ken.

“Hon, you know we can’t. Mel will be home any second…” But despite his words, Ken didn’t draw away.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to hurry.” Eliza responded. Suddenly, as she leaned in for another kiss, the compound wall fifteen meters away exploded.

March 2006, 2:50 PM, Pemburke Private Academy

Mel sat in his class, waiting for the final minutes of class to finish. To his teachers, Mel Masters was a young, energetic boy with a lot of attitude and potential. To his friends, he was more of a slacker and dreamer. To his family, he was a loyal and devoted son. To the rest of the people he knew, he was a good sort, if a bit spoiled.

But most of all, to Mel himself, he was bored. Bored of class, tired of his friends, weary of his parents. Mel felt that most of what they taught in school was a waste of his time and his parent’s money, since it was pretty obvious he was going to take over his father’s family business. All of his friends were constantly jabbering on about the latest fashion or tech-toy. Even his parents were getting on his nerves. They were always fooling around, even kissing in front of other people. Mel even found himself thinking that it was hard to believe his father was Japanese, considering his shameless behavior in his early forties. Needless to say, Mel hadn’t had friends over to his mansion in a long while for fear of embarassment.

Mel looked up at the clock mounted on the wall. 2:55. Just five more minutes. Glancing out the nearby window, he saw it was a bright and shiny day. Sigh. Would the day never end?

March 2006, 2:51 PM, Masters Mansion

Ken grabbed his wife and rolled away, as rock and debris flew through the air towards them. The patio table and chairs were blown or knocked aside from the force of the blast. Most of the lawn was torn up in a straight line from the hole in the wall, including the garden beds Ken had worked on all morning. Wary, he quickly checked Eliza for injuries. “Are you okay?!”

“I-I’m fine,” she responded, shaken. “But who-”

At that moment, the air began to thicken. Despite the late afternoon, it almost seemed as if the light of day darkened. Together they looked over at the hole, and saw a figure emerging from the darkness, slowly. The only noticable feature from the pitch black was the haunting, red eyes that seemed to bore into their souls.

“Eliza, run.” Ken said, as he moved into a defensive posture. He was more frightened for Eliza than himself. “You have to warn the people in the house. Go, now.”

“But,-”

“GO, NOW!” Ken grabbed Eliza by the arm and shoved her through the back door to the mansion, slamming the door shut.

March 2006, 2:54 PM, Masters Mansion

Eliza screamed as fire exploded around her, searing her right leg. She stumbled backwards away from the battle, as the intruder assaulted her husband. The fight had carried from the lawn and through the house, as the two men tore down the walls like paper. Ki trails drifted down from the air as it was unleashed and exploded around the interior of the once beautiful mansion. Fire began to spread along the hallway. Turning, Eliza fled down the corridor towards the servants wing.

A few people rushed to her, frightened. The first to reach her was her maid, Rena, and the second was their cook, Mr. Mordigan. Rena’s hair, a short bowl cut that Eliza had pushed on to her because it suited her well, was a mess of tangles and curls. Mr. Mordigan was impeccably dressed, as usual. But despite his appearance, it was clear that like Rena, he was frightened.

“Mrs. Masters, what’s going on?! Is it a fire?!” they both shouted at once.

Eliza bent over and tried to catch her breath. The dull pain of the burn on her leg reminded her that she was injured, and she couldn’t let these people stay here. They were all in danger.

He had come back.

“T-there’s no time to explain,” she said, panting. “We have to get out of here.”

“But, Miss-” Rena began.

“NO! We have to leave! We’ve got to-,” Eliza shouted, but was cut off as another explosion ripped through a nearby wall. Wood and mortar flew out, raining upon them. Rena screamed as the ceiling supports collapsed and gave out from the destructive blast, burying her in a pile of debris. Eliza could only watch in shock as building began to give in around them. She could hear grunts and dull impacts of fists colliding into flesh beyond the opening. Eliza took a step towards the new opening, curiosity and worry for her husband overriding her good sense. A hand grabbed her and pulled her back. She began to protest, but was cut off when she saw it was Mr. Mordigan.

Mordigan was an old, but loyal servant of the Masters for many years. He served for Ken’s father, and then Ken himself when the young man took over the family affairs. And he knew a bad situation when he saw one. Mordigan grabbed Eliza and ran for the front door exit.

March 2006, 2:57 PM, Pemburke Private Academy

Mel looked up again at the clock. It was still going slow. Tick tock. Tick tock. Unable to look at the clock any longer, his gaze drifted. Strangely, he found himself looking over at Kyoko. She smiled and waved at him. Kyoko was a Japanese student who joined a few monthes ago. Mel had met her outside the front doors to the school, struggling with a large stack of books. He remembered fondly of how they had instantly become friends, as he was more than capable of speaking Japanese due to his father’s lessons.

Japan had always interested Mel. When he was little he liked to listen to his mother tell him a folktales from a story book given to their family by his grandmother. Mel laughed a little as he imagined himself swinging a sword with a topknot, saving the pretty princess in a dashing kimono. He blushed as him suddenly found himself imagining Kyoko as the princess.

Mel looked at the clock again. 2:59 PM. Sigh.

March 2006, 2:59 PM, Masters Mansion

The mansion was on fire. Flames poured over the whole structure of the once proud mansion. Eliza stood in the front, desperately trying to make out any image of her husband, who as far as she knew, was still inside. Only the occasional burst of sound and energy showed that the battle raged onward. Most of the servants had escaped, and the alarms of the police cars and the fire station wagons blared in the distance. Mordigan was trying to restrain Eliza, while the others were tending to the wounded or stomping out the smaller fires at the edges.

“Mordigan, let me go! I have to find Ken! I have to find my husband!” Eliza screamed.

“No, madam, you must stay!” Mordigan protested. “It’s too dangerous!”

Suddenly, the second floor collapsed. The window glass cracked loudly, as it shattered onto the ground in front of the people. The survivors scattered, as another explosion rocked the structure, signaling the fire had reached the main gas pipe. Fluttering down from above, a burning blanket landed in front of the young mother, as Mordigan who had fallen backwards from the explosions tried to regain his footing.

It was a child’s blanket. Eliza had sown it for Mel when he was five years old.

“Oh my god.” Eliza stared in horror as the realization slowly sunk in. Mel was on his way home, and her cell phone was recharging in the living den. Ignoring the cries of the manservant, she dashed back into the burning building. Eliza squeezed past the fallen debris, and ducked into the living room of the mansion. The heat quickly bathed her in sweat, and the smoke was thick enough to choke upon. Peering around, she spied the cell phone in the room, on a low end table. Crawling on her knees, Eliza scurried over the the device, and quickly dialed the number for her son’s cell phone, crouched down from the smoke.

March 2006, 3:01 PM, Pemburke Private Academy

“Hello?” Mel answered, as he made his way out of class. The bell had rung, and he was finally on his way home.

“Mel!” Eliza yelled.

“Oh, hi mom!” Mel replied, smiling.

“Mel, don’t come home, stay at school!”

Mel frowned. Now he was confused. His mother sounded hysterical and sick with worry. “What? I don’t understand. Mom, what’s going on!?”

“Mel, you have to listen to me! Stay at school, it’s safer there! We will send someone to get you! Don’t worry, every thing will be fin- cough hak”

“Mom! Where are you!? Are you home!? Answer me, mom!”

“Mel, just listen to me! I’m going now, okay? Stay where yo- Oh!”

“Mom, wha-”

“No… it can’t be…” Mel could hear his mother sobbing on the other end of the phone. “Ken, wake up… please wake up…”

Mel ran.

March 2006, 3:01 PM, Masters Mansion

Eliza was cut off from her conversation as a body tumbled through a crumbling wall and landed next to her. She gasped as the hand of her husband landed on her thigh.

Ken Masters was a broken man. Blood and soot covered him from head to toe, and most of the skin on his body had been seared off. Both arms were broken in several places, as well as one of his legs. A few ribs were poking out, as he labored to breathe. Bruises covered his face and body, as well as several cuts.

“No… it can’t be…” Eliza dropped the phone as she crawled over and cradled her husband. “Ken, wake up… please wake up…” A crunching sound caught her attention, and she looked up to find herself staring at the intruder who had destroyed her husband and home. Her eyes widened. It couldn’t be…

“No… NO… it can’t be you… you’re DEAD!” she screamed. “You’re DEAD!”

The figured glared down at the woman. The kanji on his back flared, and pain coursed through his body. His red eyes blazed, as he raised his hand, ki flowing around him.

"Kongou Kokuretsu Zan!"

March 2006, 3:02 PM, Pemburke Private Academy

Kyoko gasped, as the phone fell from her numb fingers. Her friends turned to her from watching Mel dash out of the door. “What’s wrong, Kyoko?” one of them asked.

Wiping her eyes, she looked up. “I- I think that something happened to Mrs. Masters. I think somebody killed her.”

March 2006, 3:10 PM, Masters Mansion

Mel felt numb, as he watched the firemen and policemen pour over the wreckage of the mansion. The smoldering ruins of his home had an effect on him that no can anticipate; the emptiness of emotion. He found himself unable to feel anything in that one moment, before it came back to him in a rushing torrent. A virtual tidal wave of worry, anger, and confusion. He ran forward, past the line of people and towards the building. He was dimly aware of blue uniformed men grabbing a hold of his uniform, until he batted them away. Mel saw someone he recognized on a stretcher; it was Mordigan, the cook.

“Mordigan!” Mel yelled at the old cook, much to the chagrin of the nurse attending him. “Mordigan! Where’s Mom?! Where’s Dad!?”

Mel felt himself sinking, as Mordigan began to blink away tears welling in his eyes. The old man shook his head. “I’m sorry, young master. I’m sorry. The master was still in the house, and the mistress ran inside to find him. I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry, young master…”

Hands held on to Mel as he collapsed, darkness enveloping his senses.

End of Part 1: Death of the Flaming Dragon

Author’s Afterward: Sorry to the Ken fans. =P Don’t forget to post a reply.

2

FUCKING SWEET!!!:rock: :rock: :rock: :rock:

I LOVE IT. Continue this for the love of GOD.

3

Birth of the Cold Dragon: Darkness of the Heart

Birth of the Cold Dragon
Chapter 1: Crimson Tears
Part 2: Darkness of the Heart
Author: Ryunnosuke
Date: April 7, 2006

March 2006, Los Angles, 8:13 PM

Mel Masters, age 14, stood in line of the airport, waiting for customs to return his luggage after inspection. The other passengers swarmed around him, looking for their own luggage. But he paid them no mind. His own thoughts were a thousand miles away.

March 2006, San Francisco

After Mel had passed out from the shock of Mr. Mordigan’s revelation, the medics had carried him away in a stretcher to the hospital. Mel had learned later that Mr. Mordigan had suffered serious injuries, as had several of the Masters’ servants. Mordigan passed away not long after.

It was widely believed that the incident occured when an unknown assailant entered into the Masters residence and set the mansion of fire. The policemen and firemen who were on the scene later argued against this, as did the servants who managed to survive. Several people said that they saw strange auras in the air, and that the structure could not have fallen as fast as it had from a simple fire. Also, the fact that there was a definite crater found inside the wreckage left many people to believe that something was off about the death of both Mr. and Mrs. Masters.

When Mel finally woke up from his lapse, the nurses and doctors refused to let him leave the premises until they made sure that he wasn’t injured. The mental state of the young man was also evaluated. Mel tried several times to escape, but their were guards posted to keep him in order. His suspicions were confirmed when a lawyer can the next day to discuss the future of the Masters estate.

“Hello, Mr. Masters,” the man said, as he readjusted his glasses. He was well dressed, without a hair out of place. “My name is Lucas Sheridan, and I’m your family’s attorney. I’ve come to-”

“Mr. Sheridan,” Mel began, sighing. “My estate, if you can call it that, is the absolutely last thing on my mind at the moment.”

“Of course, I understand. But, people are asking questions about your future, and I have to inform you, for your own good. No one involved wants you to be taken by surprise, specifically your father.”

Mel started, and glared at the man sitting across from him. “My father…?”

Sheridan removed his glasses and polished them. “Yes. Apparently, your parents left instructions in the case of their untimely death. It’s quite common in the case of wealthy families, a luxury yours could obviously afford.”

“What kind of instructions?” Mel asked, curious despite himself.

The lawyer reached into a briefcase and removed a sheaf of papers. “First, they ordered that the legal properties and most of the accounts of the family should be reverted to his father, barring his death, to act as a regent for you until you become of age.” Mel nodded. “Second, they asked that-”

“Mr. Sheridan, I appreciate what you are doing.” Mel said, irratated. “But, if it involves any legal matters, I’m sure that can be resolved later. Right now, I just want to leave this hospital and find out what happened to my parents, and what the police intend to do about it.”

Sheridan looked over the papers at the young man. He slowly lowered the papers onto his lap. “Mr. Masters, you have to understand that the police are doing everything they can to find the men who killed your parents. It is currently believed that-”

March 2006, San Francisco Police Headquarters,

“-that the men planted several bombs in the house during the night, and during the afternoon the next day demanded money from Ken Masters and his wife, Eliza. They are suspected to have not used a telephone, as we checked the phone lines, but were at the manor in person. When Mr. Masters didn’t comply, they opened fire with small explosives of some sort. The two retreated into the mansion, where the men could set fire to the outside. After being forced inside, the men retreated and set off the bombs by remote control. As you can see, there is a distinct crater at the center of the building, presumably made by the largest concentration of bombs.” The detective, Connor, shut off the projector while his partner turned on the lights. The police chief sat next to the two detectives, his hands folded under his arms.

“Does this satisfy you, Mr. Masters?” the chief asked.

Mel looked solemnly at the older man. “Not really. Not until you catch those bastards, anyway. Thank you for your time, sir.”

The men stood up as Mel moved over to shake their hands. “I promise you, we’ll try everything we can to solve the case.” Detective Connor said.

Mel left the station. Mr. Sheridan was waiting for him outside, in front of the taxi they had taken from the hospital. Mel shivered from the cold wind that blew through the street. The breeze ruffled his short cropped hair. He had never in his life felt so alone at that moment.

March 2006, San Francisco, Masters Hotel, Room 817

Mel laid on his bed in the hotel room, staring at the ceiling. Mr. Sheridan had brought him there after they had concluded their business. Tomorrow the lawyer would pick him up and they would go together to the funeral. Mel’s grandparents were flying to the city, and other relative were being informed as quickly as possible so that they could attend. Once again, Mel was alone.

He closed his eyes, but every time he thought that he could let his mind drift, he found himself remembering their faces. Mother. Father.

Eliza Masters was a caring and understanding mother. Mel couldn’t imagine her being anything else. When he was a child, his mother would attend every school play, every sports event. There was nothing his mother wouldn’t do for Mel, but she didn’t tolerate foolishness either. She could be strict when she had to, and easy going at other times. Mel could always count on his mother to listen to him.

Ken Masters was a loving father and a easy going father. Mel couldn’t imagine him being anything else. When he was a child, he idolized his father for his martial arts, cool demeanor, and care free attitude. There was nothing his father would not do for Mel. He was more than happy to teach Mel about martial arts, which had been one of his favorite games. Even though Mel later gave up learning to fight, much to his father’s chagrin, he never regreted simply spending the time with his father.

Mel opened his eyes. His cell phone was ringing. Who could be calling him? The phone continued to ring, over and over. Mel decided he was unwilling, even uncaring about who was trying to contact him. Finally, the sound died off as the ringing ended.

Mel closed his eyes again. The faces appeared again; his mother and father smiling. A tear wound its way down his cheek. Ken and Eliza Masters were loving parents. Mel couldn’t imagine them being anything-

March 2006, San Francisco, Azure Gardens Cemetary, Masters Tomb

“-imagine them being anything else. They were proud and successful people. The world will be a darker, lonely place without them. We can only hope that they are smiling from the kingdom of heaven. They will be missed.” The minister closed his bible. “Amen.”

“Amen.”

It was like a dream. The wake, the procession, the trip from the funeral home to the cemetary. It was like a drape of wool was pressing down upon his senses. Mel couldn’t even feel shock over the fact that he wasn’t crying over the two caskets, as they were lowered into the graves. Vaguely, he heard his name being called, but paid it no heed. He didn’t seem to be able to look away from the graves.

A large, callused hand settled on his shoulder. Mel turned to look at the owner. An older man, around his mid to late forties stood there, dressed in an army uniform. The badges on his arms marked him as a airforce commander, and the medals on his chest showed he was a very celebrated soldier. He had close cropped spiked hair, which was graying on the sides. “Who are you?” Mel asked. He had never seen such an intimidating man before; even his father didn’t compare.

“Commander Guile.” The man replied.

March 2006, San Francisco, Masters Hotel, Conference Room

Mel was once again back at the hotel. The room was spacious, with a dark teak table and comfortable chairs. It was the kind of room where important meetings where held. Mel was sitting at the table between his grandfather and grandmother. Across from him, the man called Guile and what appeared to be his wife and daughter were seated. Mel’s other distant family members were also present, as Mr. Sheridan read the late Masters’ will.

Mel was less interested in what the will had to say, and more in Commander Guile. As far as the young man was concerned, Mr. Sheridan had already discussed everything important with Mel. Guile, however, stood out from the rest of Mel’s relatives. He was large and sturdy for a career soldier, although it did look like he was slightly overweight. The commander’s face was set in a permanent grimace, and when he looked at someone it tended to be an intense glare rather than a normal glance.

Finally, Mr. Sheridan finished the will, and placed the papers in front of him, folding his hands. Some of the people stood up, believing the meeting to be over.

Suddenly, Mel’s grandfather, Joseph, stood up. “Wait, that’s it? What about Mel?”

Several people looked at Mel, startled. Mel couldn’t help but feel disgruntled by this behavior. Yeah, that’s right. Now that you’ve gotten you’re money, it’s okay to forget about me. Is that it? Bastards…

Mr. Sheridan looked at Joseph. “Actually, that’s something I need to discuss with you. It would appear that the late Ken and Eliza Masters left several options for the care taking of the young man.” A general murmuring began as the people took their seats again. “The couple decided that when Mel was first born…”

January 1992, San Francisco, Masters Mansion

“You want to what?!” Ken exclaimed. “You want to give him to Julia?!”

Eliza looked up at her husband with an agitated glare. “Do you mind? You’ll wake him up.” It was just a few weeks since the birth of her little baby, and it took every ounce of her will power not to thump her dear husband on the head. Her tolerance was pushed to the limit.

“Oh, sorry.” Ken said, quietly. He sat down next to his wife as she cradled their new born son. “But, you have to admit, we can’t make Julia the godmother.”

“And why not?”

“Because she’s married to that Cononel Guile, hon!” Ken said. “That guy hates me.”

“Well, the last I knew, you weren’t too fond of Guile either, now were you?”

“You know that’s beside the point. But, you know, I think you’re right about god parents. We should definitely have some. You know who would be great?”

Eliza rolled her eyes at the blantant attempt at non-chalance in her husband’s voice. “Yeah, who?”

“Sakura!” Ken replied.

“Sakura? Hon, she’s only eighteen! She’s got her whole life ahead of her, she doesn’t need a baby putting a stopper on her future.”

“Well, then how about Chun-Li?”

“I doubt a career woman of Interpol would be capable of taking the time to raise a child. And if she did, wouldn’t she want one of her own?”

“Oh… yeah…”

Eliza knew what Ken was thinking by the way he trailed off. “Ken? Don’t worry. I know who you really want as godfather. I think it’s good idea.”

Ken spun around, grinning. “What?! Really?! Oh, thanks honey, I’m sure he’ll say yes! I can’t wait to tell him!”

The baby in Eliza’s arms began to wail loudly. “Sigh… KEN!”

“Oops… sorry.”

March 2006, Masters Hotel, Conference Room

“The couple decided that they would each choose a god parent, a god mother and father. If either of the godparents were willing to take young Mel in, then by default Mel would be given over to his grandfather and grandmother.” Mr. Sheridan read from the document.

“Who are the godparents then?” Joseph asked.

“Mrs. Masters choose her sister Julia.” Mr. Sheridan nodded as Julia, the woman by Commander Guile, stood. Her husband and daughter stood up a moment after.

“The other, chosen by Mr. Masters… we have been unable to locate. We only have the name, Ryu, to go by.”

Ryu? Where had Mel heard that name before?

“Wait a minute!” one of Mel’s uncles on his mother’s side spoke. “You’re telling me Ken wanted that, that vagabond to raise his only son?!” The rest of the people gathered also began to protest. Mr. Sheridan raised his hands in an attempt to quiet them, but seemed to have no effect.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

The room fell silent from the loud bellow from Commander Guile. It was the type of yell designed to snap slack wit privates to attention, and worked wonders on civilians. Guile glared at the assembled people. “It doesn’t matter if you approve of the father’s choice or not. What matters is his future.” he said, pointing at Mel. “And as far as I’m concerned, Ryu is a fine man, even if he is a vagabond. You won’t find a man more honorable to his word.”

“I agree,” Joseph agreed. “When I sent Ken to train with my friend Gouken, I never recieved a letter that didn’t mention Ryu in some form or another. They were more than friends, they were brothers. However,” he continued, turning to Mel. “I believe that it is up to Mel to decide who he would like to stay with.”

Everyone turned to look at Mel. He was already gone.

March 2006, San Francisco, Masters Hotel, Room 817

Mel laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Once again, he was filled with the hollow emptiness that had come to plague him since his parents deaths. He closed his eyes.

His room phone rang.

Once again, Mel did not answer it. He was tired and sad, and didn’t want to deal with anyone at the moment. I didn’t even get to say goodbye, he thought.

His room phone rang again.

Angry, he snatched up the phone. “WHAT?”

A timid voice answered. “Mel? It’s Kyoko.”

Kyoko? “Oh! Hey, what’s going on? How have you been?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you!” Kyoko laughed. “Are you okay?”

Mel sighed. “No, honestly I’m not.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Something occurred to Mel. “Hey, how did you get this number?”

“I’ve been trying for days. It was really hard to get ahold of you. I was finally able to get the number from the hotel staff, when I pretended to be a family member.” Kyoko fell silent for a moment. “I-I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Mel was already growing tired again. He had to deal with people all day, and all he really wanted was rest. He could feel his eyes drooping.

“I think I have a clue on who murdered your parents.”

End of Part 2: Darkness of the Heart

Author’s Afterward: Ugh… my head is spinning from writing until 2:22 AM… Don’t forget to post a reply!

1964 - Ryu Born
1965 - Ken Born
1987 - Street Fighter 1 (initial release date)
1991 - Street Fighter 2 (initial release date)
1997 - Street Fighter 3 (initial release date)
2006 - Present Day
1992 - Mel Born (Mel was 5 during SF3)

4

FUCK YOU CAPCOM!!!

the writers in the fanfic thread are better than you

5

great fanfic Ryunnosuke

6

I’m really digging this fanfic. The only critique I have is Mel not knowing who Guile is. I mean, that is his uncle. I know it’s artistic license, but even though Guile and Ken didn’t ge along, I’d figure Mel would recognize Guile instantly.

But it’s really, really good! I can’t wait to see where you’re gonna take it!

7

Thanks for the replies. I’m glad everyone enjoys the fic. As for Guile and Mel, the source I’m using states that yes, Guile is Mel’s uncle (Julia and Eliza are sisters), but that Ken and Guile dislike and do not aknowledge each other due to the fact that Ken hates Guile’s strict attitude and Guile hates Ken’s aloofness.

Anyway, I’m halfway done with part three, and will be giving a shout out to the fans. Might be out tonight, in fact.

8

Part 3: Our Inner Demons

Birth of the Cold Dragon
Chapter 1: Crimson Tears
Part 3: Our Inner Demons
Author: Ryunnosuke
Date: April 7, 2006

Author’s Preword: Thanks to gouki10, Hokuto no Jeffro, S. Long Forever, and LucasBishop for the replies.

March 2006, Los Angles, 8:15 PM

Mel Masters picked up his luggage and strode towards the airliner entrances. He struggled with the heavy package; he was not muscular by any means. While he had a sturdy frame, he had more of his mother’s body and his father’s looks. It was a blessing with the ladies, but not when dealing with bullies or low-life thugs. The few fights he had been in, whether Mel had started them or not, his training with his father had pulled him through.

At that moment, the airport intercom announced the flight Delta Airliner 125 was now boarding passengers. My flight, Mel thought.

March 2006, San Francisco, Masters Hotel, several days earlier…

Mel sat in stock silence as the words echoed through his mind. Kyoko was on the other line, becoming increasingly concerned as the silence grew longer. Finally, Mel asked apprehensively “W-What do you mean?”

“I, well… it’s just that… I know this sounds crazy Mel, but I don’t think that your parents were mur-, well I mean, they were murdered- I’m sorry, Mel! I don’t know how to just say this, but when you ran off the day of the fire-”

“Kyoko!” Mel barked. The voice died off on the other end. “Don’t try and spare my feelings, please. I’m fine, really. Everyone keeps asking if I’m fine or alright, like I’m fragile and ready to collapse any moment.”

“Well, you kind of did faint, you know…”

“That’s beside the point, Kyoko.” Mel sighed. “Look, whatever you have to say, I’m not gonna pass out, okay?”

“A-alright.” Kyoko sighed, nervously. “When you left, everyone was worried about you. You never run off like that. Chris and Jane were shocked.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I saw that you had dropped your cell phone, so I picked it up so that I could return it to you. When the police came to the school the next day, I handed it over to them. I assume they gave it back to you.”

“Yeah, they did. It was with my stuff when I checked out of the hospital a few days later.”

“What were you- Oh, never mind that. Anyway, I told the police what I knew, but I don’t know if they did anything about it. It wasn’t on the news reports or anything.”

“What? What do know?” Mel asked urgently.

“I-I heard something over the phone after you dropped it. I heard fire roaring in the background, a-and a woman crying. I’m sorry, Mel.”

It hurt to breathe. The thought of his mother sitting on the floor in a burning house, trying to warn him from coming home… The confusion and fear she must have felt was almost too much for him to bear. “G-go on…”

“That wasn’t all I heard. Before the house fell apart or exploded, I’m not sure of which, I heard someone, a man I think, yell something.”

“It was probably my father, Kyoko.” Mel wiped away another tear that had come unexpectedly. Emotion was boiling up inside him, threatening to escape. “W-What did he say?”

“I don’t think it was your father, Mel. I’ve met him before. This man sounded, harsh. Cruel. He yelled, ‘Kongou Kokuretsu Zan’, before the house crashed.”

Mel paused. “I’ve never heard of that before. It sounds like a technique my father might use.”

“That’s what I thought at first. I hoped that you might be able to recognize it.”

“The police told me that no one other than my parents was in the mansion when the house was destroyed.”

“Then that must mean that someone else was there, Mel! Someone else was involved!”

“But, if there was someone in the house, then why did-” Suddenly, it came to Mel. It made sense. If someone else was in the house like Kyoko said, then the police were lying or mistaken about the armed men outside. After all, why would armed men enter a building they had planted with bombs? Mel trusted Kyoko, they were good friends. She wouldn’t lie to him. Someone was there the day his parents were murdered. It was too much of a coincidence.

“Kyoko, did you tell the police everything that you heard?”

“Yes.” Kyoko answered. “Why?”

“Can you meet me at the San Francisco police HQ in thirty minutes? I want to know what they intend to do about this.”

March 2006, San Francisco Police Headquarters

Mel and Kyoko were sitting in front of the detective Connors desk. They were looking expectantly at the man sitting across from him, as he looked at the Kyoko’s statements from the police reports. Finally, he sighed, and sat back in his comfortable looking chair. “This is quite a story you would have me believe.”

“It’s not a story!” Mel yelled. He almost got about of his seat, but his friend held him down.

Connors looked skeptical. "Look, I know you are emotionally involved, Mr. Masters. But, the fact is, your mansion was burning and then exploded into a big ball of flame. Now, I’m just a simple man, but even you must know that houses don’t explode and create craters spontaneously, unless the use of highly explosive materials was involved. And now you’re trying to tell me someone was inside when it was destroyed? Where’s the body, where’s the evidence?

“The last time I checked, detective, I wasn’t hard of hearing. I know what heard over the phone.” Kyoko said, coldly. “Are you saying I’m a liar?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. But speaking frankly, your statements aren’t creditable.” The detective folded his hands and rolled his eyes. “This is also why I never considered them when we began the investigation. I believe that you heard something that sounded like words, but wasn’t. There must have been a lot of noise; cracking wood or a wall falling apart, for instance. There are just too many factors to consider.”

Mel began to have doubts. The lack of a body was something he had not considered. Was it possible for someone to have escaped the inferno? He looked over at Kyoko. Despite her righteous indignation, she looked less sure of herself now. Mel stood up. “Well, we still think that you should keep it in mind. It’s still an important piece of information.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Connors replied. “I am no longer investigating the case.”

“What?” Mel barked, agitated. Surely they weren’t considering closing the case already? “Why? What do you mean?”

Connors propped his feet onto his desk. “It’s no longer my responsibility. Now, if you don’t mind?” The detective pointed towards the door.

March 2006, San Francisco Police Headquarters (outside)

“Bastards!” Mel sat on a bench in front of the police compound. “I can’t believe they are closing the case!”

“Mel, you don’t know that! Besides, I have a feeling that he was hiding something from us.” Kyoko said, cracking the tab on a can of soda. The dark liquid fizzed quietly as she sipped.

“What makes you say that?” Mel glared at the ground.

“Why would a detective been on a case one day, and removed the next? Something was wrong. I think that it might not have been his choice.”

“Hmm.” Mel considered this new possibility. “He did seem very sure that explosives had been used on the house, on the inside. Maybe they replaced him because he wasn’t showing any results? Mr. Sheridan told me that all existing records had been turned over the police. Maybe they ran out of leads?”

Kyoko nursed her drink. “That’s a possibility. But it seems too easy.” She sighed. “I wish we knew more.” Suddenly, Kyoko snapped her fingers. “Wait, I know! I think I know someone who can help us!”

Mel looked over at his friend’s face, which was beaming self-importantly. “And who would that be?”

“Chase can help us!”

“Chase?” Mel remembered. Chase was a little scrawny boy with coke bottle glasses. While he technically was the definition of a nerd or geek, he looked anything but the part. He was the tallest boy in middle school, standing at almost six feet tall, with a big frame. He was also a part time body builder/hacker. Chase earned his reputation as a hacker when he managed to hack into several college databases and mainframes on his home computer. The various deans were startled to find that their networks had been rearranged with other colleges. The police had tracked down the culprit, just to find that he was too young to properly prosecute. It was Chase’s crowning achievement. “Yeah, he could help us!”

Kyoko jumped up. “I’ll see if he can’t help us. I think I might be able to pull in a favor or two for this, but I’ll have to go quickly.” She raised her hand and hailed a taxi. The yellow car pulled up to the curb in front of them. The young girl opened the door.

“Kyoko!” Mel smiled as his friend looked back at him. “Thanks.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome. And Mel? Don’t be a stranger.” Kyoko slipped onto the seat and waved as she was driven off.

Suddenly, a car pulled up to the curve as the taxi pulled away. Mel thought it looked like one of those Sedans that car rental dealerships bought often for their business, but couldn’t be sure. He started to walk away, but jerked to a stop as he heard a familiar voice as the car’s automated window rolled down.

“There you are,” Commander Guile said. “You had us worried.”

The events of the morning came back to Mel in a rush. The arguments over the will of his parents, and of who his caretakers were going to be. “I can take care of myself, Commander.” Mel said harshly. He sighed. “I’m going to have to, now.”

The young man turned and walked down the road. The car began to follow him slowly. A few cars honked and sounded their horns as they sped by the dark sedan. “Can I give you a lift?” the commander asked, smiling. Mel looked at him from the corner of his eyes. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. We can talk.” He continued to ignore the older man. “Are you running away, Mel?”

Mel stopped, and the car slowed down. ?I resent that.?

?But is it the truth?? Guile asked.

?No, it isn?t.? Mel snarled. ?I?ve been through a lot, okay!? I just wanted some time alone, and when I finally get it, you people come hounding after me! Leave me alone, dammit!? Mel turned and ran down an alley. Despite his uncle?s cries, he kept running.

March 2006, San Francisco, Warren Adams Park

Mel sat on a bench in the middle of the Warren Adams park. It was late, and the sky grew darker as time wore on. He didn?t care, though. It was nice to finally get away from everyone and just think for awhile. It was hard to relax when the only thing on your mind was funeral arrangements. As soon as he had arrived at the park, Mel had curled up behind cluster of shrubs and wept. His grief was private; it wasn?t something that he wanted to share with others.

His father used to tell him that he was strong because he didn?t try to burden others with his problems. Mel had always been that way. It wasn?t that he was antisocial. He felt that if he couldn?t solve his problems by himself, then he wasn?t really solving the problem. His mother used to say that he was just being sensitive. Mel missed them so much.

The street lamps in the park switched on. The combined glow of the city normally blotted out the stars in the city, but they were slightly more visible in the park. A few couples continued to take strolls through the quiet landscape. Mel wondered if his parents had ever walked through this park, when they were young.

Mel thought of Kyoko. Gratitude rushed through him. It was really nice to know that he could count on his friends when he needed them. He wasn?t so sure about the current dealings with the police and the suspicions that his friend had, but Mel could at least give her the benefit of the doubt. Sure, some of the facts didn?t add up, but it wasn?t a conspiracy or anything.

The young man?s stomach suddenly grumbled. Ugh, it?s been awhile, hasn?t it? Mel thought. I?d better get something to eat. I might as well go back to the hotel. Everyone must be worried.

Mel sat up and stretched. He began to walk away when he heard a woman?s scream pierce the air.

End of Part 3: Our Inner Demons

Author’s Afterword: Sorry for the lateness of this fic. I was working my college writing final paper. I hate my teacher. She says I have to dumb my writing down because the class is Writing 101. =P

1964 - Ryu Born
1965 - Ken Born
1987 - Street Fighter 1 (initial release date)
1991 - Street Fighter 2 (initial release date)
1997 - Street Fighter 3 (initial release date)
2006 - Present Day
1992 - Mel Born (Mel was 5 during SF3)

9

excellent. can’t wait to see what happens next, the story is very well written.

oh and your teacher’s a bitch for that.

10

nice work Ryunnosuke cant wait for part 4

11

Part 4: Heroic Surge

Birth of the Cold Dragon
Chapter 1: Crimson Tears
Part 4: Heroic Surge
Author: Ryunnosuke
Date: May 1, 2006

Author’s Preword: I am so sorry for the late updates, finals is killing me. I will try and update more regularly if at all possible once this week is over. Regardless, special thanks goes out to gouki10 and S.Long Forever. Enjoy!

March, San Francisco Airport

Mel tried desperately to ignore the stares he was recieving as he made his way to his seat. By the time he had reached it he was red in the face and throughly embarrassed by several offers of aid from people seated by the lane. As he plopped down onto the airliner chair, he set his crutches to the side and rubbed his bandaged jaw. Mel’s thoughts drifted back to that night…

March, San Francisco Park, Night

Mel ran in the direction he had heard the woman’s scream. It couldn’t have been far off, but he was having trouble finding his way due to the foilage and night sky. The young man started toward a path when he heard a dull thud come through a tall row of bushes to his left. Without hesitation, he dashed through the narrow space between two of them.

It appeared to be an abandoned skateboard park. Large cement bowls were predominant in the ground in the surrounding area. It was a small park, and probably wasn’t used much anymore. It was even darker here, where the hedge blocked most of the lamp light from the path. Mel quickly looked around and found a disturbing scene. Three rough looking men were only a few feet away from him, and appeared to be working over a older man dressed in a suit. They seemed to be as surprised to see him as he was to see them. A fourth thug was ten feet in front of Mel, holding a young teenage girl on the ground with a knife to her throat with one hand and the other halfway up her dress.

Rage filled Mel, as his vision went temporarily red. With a yell, he charged the molester on the girl. The man didn’t have a chance to resist as Mel grabbed him around the waist, pinning his arm, and tumbled with him into one of the park bowls. He twisted so that he would land on top of the assailant. With a satisfying thud upon impact, his opponent howled in pain as Mel’s full weight fell on his stomach and chest. The attack knocked the wind from the man, who quickly passed out.

Mel leapt to his feet. The two of the thugs had overcome their surprise and where sliding down the bowl towards him. The other thug had stayed to hold the old man on the ground by the back of the neck. The young girl was too stunned to do anything other than prop herself from the ground and look around, dazed. “Get out of here!” Mel shouted. “Run!”

Mel jumped back as the two men came at him. One was armed with a wooden bat, while the other came at him unarmed. Mel remembered something his father told him, when they used to train together. Take out the armed guy, or you’ll regret it.

Confident, the man swung the bat, aiming at Mel’s side. Mel dropped to all fours, letting the heavy wood swish overhead. He leapt at the thug while he was overextended, and before his friend could move in to rescue him. Mel wasn’t strong for a teenage kid, but he knew how to use his speed. And speed equals power, another quote from his father. Because the hood still had his hands on his bat, Mel went for his legs. The man screamed as Mel’s elbow crashed into his groin, and then Mel’s arms jerked his feet from under him. The bat clattered to the ground. Two down, Mel thought.

The young teenager managed to get to his feet, but not before the third man was upon him. Mel braced himself as the man collided with him. Once on the ground, the man could attack his victim from a mounted position, who would have a hard time fighting back because his elbows would be on the floor, unable to pull back and swing. However, Mel had a surprise for his assailant. He rolled backwards, using his foot as a lever, and used the fool’s momentum to slam him into the park bowl. The thug groaned, clutching his back and head.

These guys aren’t too tough, Mel thought as he rolled to his feet again. Just can’t take a hit, I guess.

Mel took stock of the situation outside of the skate bowl. The lone attacker had let go of the older man, who appeared to be unconcious, and had made his way to the edge of the bowl. Mel could tell he was the leader; he was bigger and tougher looking than the others. The first thug Mel had taken out was staggering to his feet. The young girl was nowhere in sight.

Mel knew it would be a bad idea to be surrounded. As soon as the big man started his slide into the bowl, Mel dashed over to the staggered hood. A devastating roundhouse kick smashed the man’s nose and sent him back to the ground. Blood sprayed onto Mel’s leg and the ground. He felt a little bad, but couldn’t spare the time to think about it.

The big man walked over to his friends, dragging them to their feet. They had also begun to recover. He then advanced towards Mel, placing himself between Mel and the other thugs. He’s smarter than his friends too, Mel thought. He’s protecting them until they can catch their second wind.

Mel decided that he had to hit the big man hard and fast. He ran forward with his arm poised to attack. The big man stood his ground, evidently expecting this. He wasn’t expecting Mel to suddenly jump into the air, almost eight feet in height. The young teen grinned as he slammed both feet into his opponent’s face. A loud, audible pop indicated that Mel had probably unhinged the man’s jawbone. The big man hit the ground with a thud. Mel’s victory was short lived, however, as he landed between the two thugs who had shaken off their wounds.

The martial artist ducked awkwardly from a haymaker from the hood on his left, but failed to avoid a kick from the one on his right. He was disoriented from the jump and by being flanked by two enemies. The kick connected with his ribs, causing pain to lance through his side and leaving him slightly breathless. Mel worked through the pain, and brought his leg up to sweep the man who had hit him. The thug backed away, so Mel continued his sweep into the legs of the other thug. The man fell forward onto his knees and elbows. Mel put him down again by spinning his body around and used the same leg to knee the fallen man in cheek. He could feel some of the thug’s teeth loosen and cave in, as blood spilled out from his split lips. Mel spun to deal with the hood who had retreated.

The man was climbing out of the park bowl. Too late Mel realized that the young girl had returned, and was attempting to pull the old gentleman she was with earlier out of harm’s way. The young teen yelled for them to get out of the way. “Watch out, he’s behind you!” The girl turned around, startled. She spun around and ran through the row of bushes Mel had crashed through on his way here. Mel leapt out of the park bowl to follow the hoodlum.

The old man was laying on the ground. The thug had pulled a knife from somewhere and held it threateningly to the neck of the helpless old man. Mel halted as the thug pulled the man up and held him as a hostage. “Stop, don’t hurt him!” Mel said, alarmed.

The punk glared at him. “Get down on the ground! Get down or I’ll give him a new, wet smile!” When Mel didn’t move, the man pressed the knife hard to his gasping victim’s throat, drawing several dots of blood. “NOW!”

Mel laid down on the ground. He didn’t have a choice.

“Yeah, that’s right…” the thug said. “Hands behind your head. Do it!” Mel complied. “Don’t do anything stupid…” The man dragged his victim over to a bench. “Lenard! Lenard, you okay, man?”

Mel heard a deep voice from behind him. “Yoo dumass, I’b shaid ‘dno dnames’, member?” From the slurred way he was talking, Mel guessed it was the big man talking. The man spat a few times, growling. “F’ere ib dat lil bichass tha kicked meh?”

“I got him here, Lenard! Come get him!” The punk looked down at Mel. “If you fight back, he’s dead, understand?”

“D-don’t listen to him…” the older man mumbled, weakly. “He’ll just kill me, anyway…”

“Shut up!” The thug slammed his fist into the man’s stomach. The man coughed blood as he went to his knees in the dirt.

He’s right, Mel realized. I have to fight, or they’ll just kill us both. Even if they kill the old man, I can’t let them kill me, and they may go after the girl when they’re done. I can’t just lay here. I can’t-- The thought died when the older man looked up and Mel’s eyes connected with his. He could see hopelessness in the man’s eyes. A resignation to death. An urge to keep fighting. But it didn’t have the desired effect the gentleman could have hoped for. The fight left young Mel, as he began to remember.

The pain and sorrow Mel had felt for the last few days rushed into him. The only thought he could remember was the helplessness, the hopelessness he had during the aftermath of his parents deaths. Had his mother and father resigned themselves to death, before they had died? Mel looked deep inside himself, and found that he couldn’t do what the old man asked of him. He couldn’t abandon the older man… that he couldn’t condemn him to death. The gentleman saw the look from Mel, and lowered his head in despair.

A large hand grabbed Mel by the back of the neck. He was jerked up and welcomed by a meaty fist slamming into his stomach. Mel clutched his midsection as pain arched through his body. Looking up, he saw the large man standing in front of him, a murderous look in his eyes that promised pain. A second later, Mel flew through the air from a boot aimed at his head. The young man cried out when he landed, a sharp rock making a deep gouge on his forehead. Blood dripped into Mel’s eye, obscuring the world around him. Dimly, he was aware the big man was yelling at him to get up.

I need to fight, Mel thought. I got to fight or I’ll die…

Agony seared all rational thought away, as a loud crack sounded through the night. Mel screamed out in pain. The man had broken his leg with the bat he had retrieved from the park bowl, and was grinding his boot on the area. Tears streamed down Mel’s face as the men laughed at him. He clutched his leg, until he felt a sharp stab on his side. Two ribs gave way, and it became hard for Mel to breathe. As the big man worked him over, Mel tried in vain to shield himself from the damaging blows.

At least the girl got away, Mel thought. A heavy boot slammed onto his hand, breaking a few fingers. I’m coming, Mom… A fist caught him in the cheek. I’m coming, Dad…

A shout rended the air as Mel fell into unconciousness.

“Hey, who the hell are you? Lenard! Len- gak!” The punk gasped for breath as the figure lifted him off the ground and slammed him on to the pavement. The older man’s limp form fell to the ground, unconcious.

Lenard, the leader of the gang, turned to find that his cronie had been taken out by… a geezer? The man before him was in an army uniform of some kind, with spiky graying hair. In the back of Lenard’s mind, he couldn’t help but think of how hard it was to find good help these days. First, they can’t stand up to a damn kid, and now he finds they can’t even handle an old man.

“Look, geezer, back off!” Lenard shouted, pointing his bat. “Ya don’t want any of dis, trust m-” He was quickly cut off as energy formed around the old man’s hands.

“Sonic Boom!” Wind and sound slashed through the skate park, and collided with the gang leader’s chest. Lenard felt all of his ribs break, the air rush from his lungs, and his mind sink into darkness.

End of Part 4: Heroic Surge

Author’s Afterward: Comments always welcome, I read all of them!

12

Very nice installment to your series. I can’t wait to see what will happen next when mel’s plane lands at wherever you are taking him.

btw srry my comments are so long. i know as a writer you expect in depth reviews on your work, but hey atleast it’s all complements and no boos

13

It’s ok, I just like the reviews. They help motivate me for my work. Thanks for the reply.

14

damn that was a nice way to end part 4 “Sonic Boom!”

15

Thanks S.Long. I was wondering if I had done a decent job describing the action parts. It can be very difficult, and I’ve never been satisfied just stating the move and assuming people knows what it looks like.

16

Birth of the Cold Dragon, Part 5: Farewells and Goodbyes

Birth of the Cold Dragon
Chapter 1: Crimson Tears
Part 5: Farewells and Goodbyes
Author: Ryunnosuke
Date: May 7, 2006

Author’s Preword: Funny thing, Shoryuken.com’s forums won’t let me post greater than 25000 character posts. And when I was writing this part of the chapter, I thought to myself, “Man, I’m writing alot tonight, hope nothing goes wrong.” As it turns out, I’ve had this part finished for a few days now, and I haven’t been able to post it because my internet went out. Now, I find I can’t post because it’s too big. Fate conspires against me. Ah well. To make up for this, I will be spliting the part into two posts with I will post seperately. Special thanks goes out once again to gouki10 and S.Long Forever. Enjoy!

March, San Francisco Airport

“Please buckle your seats, ladies and gentlemen. We will be departing soon.” A voice called over the airliner intercom system. “A stewardess will assist you as needed.” Mel connected the clasp and leaned back in his chair, trying to get comfortable. He accepted a set of headphones as the stewardess walked by, and tried to relax. He was fresh out of the hospital, after all. He soon fell asleep.

March, San Francisco Hospital, Morning

Mel awoke with a start. He had been dreaming about his parents again. Where am I? What was I doing? he thought. Sunlight streamed into the room from the window, while the daily life of the city bustled about. A slight movement to Mel’s left caught his attention. Sitting there was Commader Guile, reading the daily newspaper. Guile gave a feigned look of surprise, as he folded the paper and sat up. “Ah, finally up I see. How are you feeling?”

“Like a stampede rolled over me…” Mel croaked. He was aching all over. His leg was in a cast, his ribs were taped, and he didn’t even want to think about what had been done to his face. Thinking about it, the events that led up to his injuries suddenly brought him back to reality. “Wait, what happened? The man, the girl-”

“It’s okay,” Guile said, in a gentle tone. “They are alright. You did a good job protecting them. The man suffered a lot of injuries, but nothing permanent. He, like you, will recover fully with time.” Guile shook his head at the look Mel was giving him. “The girl was traumatized, but the man didn’t harm her physically. She was given a check over, but they felt she didn’t need a counselor unless the family asked for one specifically. She’ll be okay.”

Mel sighed in relief. “That’s good. But who rescued us? I had my hands tied behind my back and couldn’t do anything without those jerks killing the old man.”

Guile smirked. “I believe that would be me. You see, I had been looking for you all day, after you ran away from me at the police station. I knew you needed some time alone, so I had an agent follow you so that you wouldn’t get into any trouble. Luckily, I have some contacts that are very good at shadowing people, otherwise I might not have gotten there in time. I was sitting in my car when the call came in. It took a lot of explaining to the police as to why I had to run three red lights to get to you.”

Mel was astonished. “You beat those guys up? I don’t believe it. You’re just an-” Mel blushed.

“An old man?” Guile said, grinning. “Perhaps. I am forty-six, but I still keep in shape. I’ve known many who were older and stronger than I am now.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think about it.” Mel said. “Man, the army must make you tough as nails. What kind of training did you take?”

Guile stood and walked around Mel’s bed, stopping when he was next to him. “I was a regular cadet. I wasn’t in the army, per se. I joined up with the Air Force, but when I proved myself, they let me into the Special Forces Unit.”

“You were a marine?” Mel asked, curious.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Guile replied. “Special Forces was created to make a team of specialists that could deal with terrorists and the like. They wanted a combination from all the different branches of the military. But, primarily, they wanted people who were special and whose talents would be wasted elsewhere.” Guile grabbed a chair and sat down close to the bed. “I was an ace pilot. When they chose me to join Special Forces, I went with a buddy of mine, who had also been chosen. We stayed on with our original branches, but from time to time we would work as a team for missions with the Special Forces, or share our unique talents.”

“What kind of talents? If they needed someone to teach them how to fly, why didn’t they just send them to where you were taught?” Mel asked. “Why are you laughing?”

“Oh, I didn’t teach them about piloting.” Guile snickered. “You have to understand, that the only reason I was picked for Special Forces is because I was caught.” Mel raised a questioning eyebrow. “I would go out with my friends and get into bar fights. I was… out of control. Sure, when I was at a base or in a unit, it was ‘Yes, sir. No, sir.’ But when I had shore leave it was a different story; I would go looking for trouble at the nearest hotspot. Chalk it up to the lunacy of youth. I must have been twenty seven at the time.”

“And Special Forces heard about it?” Mel concluded.

“Yes. They heard about the young upstart that had never lost a fight. Naturally, they wanted me to teach their people about fighting. So, they sent their best, and newest, recruit to get me to join.”

“Who was it?” Mel asked.

“His name was Nash. He was a good friend of mine. One day, he walked into the bar I was at, and challenged me to a fight. I could tell he had something in mind. Nash never looked for violence. He did his duty because he wanted to prevent fighting, despite the fact that he was one hell of a fighter. When I asked him why, he demanded that if he won, I would join the Special Forces, no questions asked.” Guile grinned. “First fight I ever lost.”

Mel pondered for a moment. “So, you used to be a Street Fighter… wow.” Mel was impressed. It was hard to imagine the man sitting next to him could do such a thing. To Mel, Guile looked like your typical career military veteran.

“The name isn’t really a title, you know.” Guile said. “Most normal people call men like me Street Fighters, but if you are a fighter, then that’s what you are; simply ‘fighter’.”

“Hm, I didn’t know that.” Mel said. “So, what happened to your friend? Nash? Is he still part of the force?”

Guile fell silent for awhile. His eyes took on a faraway, distant look. “He died.”

Mel was abashed. “I-I’m sorry.”

Guile snorted. “Don’t be. He died honorably. In fact he saved my life.” Sighing, he stood up. “Well, I have to go. I’ve got some things to do that I’ve been neglecting. I’ll come by to check up on you tonight.” He turned to go.

“Commander?” Guile turned around. “How did he die?”

“He died fighting a bully, Mel.” Guile said, sadly. “The very worst kind of bully. And he saved countless others as well, by doing so.” Solemnly, the commander walked through the hospital door, leaving Mel with plenty to think about. He laid back down to rest, and drifted off to sleep.

March, San Francisco Hospital, Afternoon

Mel woke up a few hours later. The pain wasn’t as bad as before, but it still hurt a hell of a lot. He was alone in the room again.

It suddenly occured to Mel that this room looked a lot like the one he was in a few days ago. The thought was funny to Mel, in a strange way, and he began to giggle, then laugh out loud. After awhile, the humor of it seeped away, and he immediately felt guilty. I’m supposed to be in mourning, dammit! he thought. Mel wondered if he would ever be normal again.

The young man’s thoughts began to wander. He began to remember the fight from last night. Most of it had been forgotten, since it happened so fast. And he couldn’t remember much other than pain while the gang leader roughed him up. At least the victims were safe, Mel thought. But, why did I jump in like that? I just… jumped into a fight against four other grown men. What was I thinking?

Sighing, Mel rolled over on his side, and grimaced as the pain in his ribs increased. He slowly inched back into his original position. This is going to take some time to get used to, he thought.

Suddenly, the door opened up, and a small figure slipped quietly through the door. Mel leaned forward and saw Kyoko standing there, looking frightened.

“Kyoko!” Mel said, rather weakly. “Um… hi?”

“Oh my god, Mel!” Kyoko gasped, tears running down her cheeks. “What did those men do to you!?”

Mel was a little shocked by his friend’s reaction, even though he shouldn’t have been. She had always gotten upset when he got into fights, but she had never cried or shed tears over it. Then again, Mel had never been this wounded afterwards. “Just a little scuffle, you know?”

“A little scuffle?” the girl asked, incredulous. “Mel Masters, you are the only guy I know who would call the beating you recieved a scuffle!”

Same old Kyoko, Mel thought. Blunt and realistic. “It’s good to see you too.”

Kyoko walked over to the chair next to Mel’s bed. She was wearing a summer skirt and loose blouse. Mel guessed that it must be warm outside for her to wear light clothes. “So, are you gonna tell me what happened?” she asked, as she wiped her eyes.

Mel sighed deeply, and began to tell her what happened. As any good friend would, Kyoko gasped, laughed, and showed her sympathy at all the appropriate parts of the story. Mel told her about his encounter with Commander Guile outside of the station, the walk through the park, the scream he heard, the fight at the skate park, and waking up in the hospital. He even told her about the conversation with Commander Guile after he woke up, but omitted the crying he had done in the park.

“It’s weird, I never would have thought that the commander used to be a Street Fighter.” Mel finished.

“That’s not really accurate, you know.” Kyoko replied. “I hear they call themselves Fighters. Only ignorant people call them Street Fighters.”

“Hey!” Mel said, indignant. “That was uncalled for. Besides, how do you know that?”

“I just do, and that’s all you need to know.” Kyoko said, sticking her tongue at him. The smile melted off of her face. “Mel, I came because I wanted to see how you were doing, and because I got the information you asked me about.”

If Mel could have sat straighter, he would have. As it was, he twitched a little. “You did? What did you and Chase find out?”

Kyoko was hesistant. “Are you sure? You might not like what you find out…”

Mel was more than a little confused. “This was your idea, Kyoko. Whatever it is, I wanna know.” Mel took a breath. “Tell me.”

Kyoko nodded, albeit uncertainly. “Well, Chase was more than willing to help. He owed me a favor, and was more than willing to make up for it. I told him everything I could about what you and I know on the police investigation on your parent’s deaths. Chase told me it would take him awhile to get everything ready, and a few days minimum to start digging for information.”

“Wait, a few days? I thought you said you already had the information?” Mel interrupted.

“Mel, you do know you’ve been hospitalized for a little less than a week, right?” Kyoko replied. Ignoring the stupified look Mel gave her, she continued. “Anyway, a few days ago Chase called me over and showed me what he had found out. Remember the detective telling us that the case had been taken out of his hands? Evidently, the detective recieved orders directly from the police chief to close the investigation. Searching through the files in the entire station, including the chief’s, showed that someone ordered them to back off.”

“Ordered them? Who can order the police off of an investigation like that?” Mel asked.

“Well, I imagine the FBI or CIA could. Chase thought so too. He wanted to tell me what he could before he went deeper, because if something happened I would at least know this much.” Kyoko paused. “It goes beyond that. He also found the official coroner records of your parents bodies. Did they have an open casket wake, Mel?”

Mel gulped. “No. They said they had been too badly burned. They said that nothing could be done to make the bodies presentable for a wake.”

“That was a half truth, I’m afraid. The coroner noted that your parents were badly burned, yes, but what I bet they didn’t tell you or your relatives is that there wasn’t much left of the bodies to even identify. The blood and tissue left behind was the only way to determine it was your folks at all.”

“That makes sense though.” Mel said. This conversation was disturbing him greatly. “The bombs planted could have destroyed most of their b-bodies.”

“Mel, there’s no easy way to say this…” Kyoko said. “The blast site where they found the crater in your mansion was a wide area. But the entire mansion collapsed. If the bombs were all centralized in the area where the crater was, then the entire mansion shouldn’t have collapsed. Chase said most detonations designed to take out buildings have to be set on the structure itself to make it fall. And if they used more explosives than that-”

“-then why wasn’t the crater bigger?” Mel finished. He felt numb inside. It made sense. The crater was near the front, in the front foyer where his family entertained guests. Why did it destroy the back part of the mansion? And if they had used more bombs, then the there should have been more devastation. The front lawn and paths had been blasted, but the gates and wooded road beyond was left intact. Everything in the zone of destruction was obliterated; as if God’s hand had descended and smashed the surrounding area.

“I’m sorry, Mel.” Kyoko said.

“It’s alright,” he responded. “Anything else?”

“Chase continued his digging. He told me he had his suspicions, but he didn’t want to confirm anything yet. A day or two later, he came to my house, looking nervous. We went to a restaurant so that we could talk in private. He told me that the FBI was involved, and was working with another agency. He said that was as far as he would get involved.” The girl paused for a moment. “I think somebody visited him, and intimidated him. He’s refusing to help me anymore.”

Someone who could intimidate Chase? The only person who Mel had ever seen with bigger muscles than Chase was his father, although it was hard to tell with Commander Guile. “What? Why? Who or what could make him change his mind? I mean, this is the guy that doesn’t fear anything!”

“The only thing he would say is that he didn’t want to upset the scary lady anymore… And don’t ask me what that meant. He did name the other agency, however.”

“What’s the name?” Mel asked.

“Interpol.”

Continued in next post

17

March, San Francisco Hospital, Night

Later that night, after Kyoko had gone home for the day, Mel laid on the bed watching TV. But while his eyes were on the screen, he wasn’t really paying attention. He was still trying to process all of the information from Kyoko’s visit. There was a lot more going on that he didn’t understand. Mel simply didn’t know what to do. The door opened. Mel seriously began to wonder how many guests he would have to see in one day. In addition to Kyoko and Guile, his various family members had popped in from time to time, all day.

Commander Guile came through the doorway. “Hello again, Mel. I brought someone who’s been eager to meet you.”

“Can it wait? I’ve been meeting people all day!” Mel whined.

“No, I don’t think it can.” Guile moved aside to reveal a young, pretty girl and an older, but beautiful woman. They both had deep, dark natural red hair, although the girl wore it short and the woman wore it long. The high cheekbones, elegant nose, and smooth, flawless skin hinted that the two ladies were well bred. Even their clothes denoted money, as Mel recognized some of the more tres chic namebrands. The older woman had pretty, sharp blue eyes, the type that could go from analyzing to piercing instanteously. The girl, while not as beautiful as the woman, more than made up for it with soft, deep green eyes like pools of water. “You may want to pick up your jaw, Mel.” Guile said, jokingly.

Mel closed his mouth with a snap. The two ladies giggled, moving closer. Abashed, Mel tried to sit straighter, but the effect failed with his arm and leg wrapped up. Guile moved over and helped him get comfortable, as the girls surveyed his condition.

Finally, Mel asked, “So, may I ask if have the pleasure of a name?” He tried his best to give a dashing smile, but the head bandages ruined the effect.

“I’m Elizabeth Reynolds, and this is my daughter, Sharon.” the older woman responded. “I’ve come to personally thank you for saving her life.”

For a moment, Mel was caught off guard. “Wait, you mean-” He turned to the girl. “Hey, you’re the girl from the park!” Mel blurted. The girl giggled as Guile and Mrs. Reynolds laughed. Mel found himself blushing again. When am I going to develop eloquence? he thought to himself.

“Yes, I look a lot better when cleaned up, don’t I?” Sharon said, smiling.

“Um, yes! Definitely!” Mel replied. He even found himself nodding as he said it. It was Sharon’s turn to blush.

Mrs. Reynolds cleared her throat. “I also came to say that if you ever need anything within our power to provide, Mel Masters, you can count on the Reynold’s support. You also happened to save my father, who feels that we owe you a debt that cannot be repaid by simple material means. I happen to agree. We are a very influential family, and you will always be a welcome guest at our house.” The look she gave Mel brooked no argument; she wouldn’t accept no as an answer. That is, if there even was a request to begin with.

Mel bowed his head. “I’m honored, Mrs. Reynolds. I humbly accept your hospitality. I only hope that life treats you and yours more favorably in the future.”

Sharon beamed at him as Mrs. Reynolds smiled. “I heard the Masters were a good family. I’m glad to see their son is no exception.” Mrs. Reynolds looked at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid my time has run out. If you will excuse us, Mr. Masters? Commander.” She stood and strode gracefully to the door.

Before Mel knew it, the young girl leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered. A moment later they were gone. Mel closed his jaw a second time with a snap.

“I’ve seen men beaten with clubs less stunned than you are right now, my young friend.” Guile commented, snickering.

“Ha, ha, ha.” Mel grumbled. He looked over at the older man. “So, what have you been up to?”

“I’ve been getting your affairs in order.” Mel sat up straighter. “Your family has agreed that with this latest incident, the person who watches over you must be able to teach you discipline. While everyone agrees that it was very noble of you, it was also very reckless. Half of your family believes that your father teaching you martial arts was a mistake, and the other half wants you to complete your training.”

“I see.” Mel said, solemnly. He had forgotten all about the fight his family was having over his custody. “Did you know that I was the one who stopped the training sessions with my Dad?”

“Your grandfather mentioned it.”

Mel took a deep breath to steady himself. “When I was seven, I had seen my Dad fight so many times, I thought it was natural to get into fights. A bully tried to pick on me, and I beat him up. My Dad was so proud. He was glad I stood up for myself. I was too. My mother was a little worried, but Dad talked her out of saying anything to me about it, although I didn’t know that at the time.” Mel paused. “Then I got into an argument with another bully. I took care of him, too. And then another. Then, the day came when I got into an argument with a friend of mine. I got so angry with him that I hit him. I put him down like any other bully. I-”

“You didn’t just put him down, did you, Mel?” Guile said, quietly. “You destroyed him, didn’t you?” Mel put his head between his arms and nodded. “You made sure he would never disagree with you again, hm?”

“When it was done, I went to my Dad and told him what I had done. I thought I was just doing what was right. I never saw my father as angry as he was that day, never again. But even worse, was the absolute disappointment from my mother. She didn’t even say it, she just looked at me, and I knew. The very next day, I swore off fighting.”

“Then why did you break your promise?” Guile said softly.

“When our inner demons flow, the anger makes us see red. Does the darkness of our hearts, make our tears crimson when shed?” Mel whispered.

“Nice poem. An original?” Guile asked.

“Yes. I broke my promise for the first time in seven years the other day. I did it because I didn’t have time to think otherwise. But I’d like to think that I fought that day to atone for what I had done in the past. But, I worry deep down inside, that I did it because I liked it. Because I was lashing out from the hurt of the last few days.”

“You haven’t answered my question. Why did you break your promise? Why did you fight?”

Mel was silent for a moment. “I don’t know,” he finally answered.

Guile nodded. “You remind me of Nash. And Ryu. Nash believed in justice more than anything. Duty was just due process to justice for Nash. He was very outspoken about what was right or wrong. He even had the nickname ‘Charlie’, from preaching about the Vietnam War. But, in the end, Nash could never admit to himself that he liked to fight for the sake of fighting. That’s one of the reasons he needed me when they accepted him into the Special Forces. Whenever Nash fought, he had to have a reason. When he won the US championships, it was to represent the military. When he joined the Special Forces, it was to teach others how to fight like him.” Guile thought for a moment. “Ryu, on the other hand, was the opposite, but had the same problem. He never needed a reason to fight other than to test his skills, but even he wondered why sometimes. ‘Why do I fight?’ It’s something every serious fighter asks themselves at some point. I haven’t seen him in sometime, but I’ve heard that he finally made peace with that particular question.”

The two sat in silence for awhile. Finally, Mel asked, “So, what are they going to do with me?”

“The worst possible thing, Mel. They’re giving you a choice. You have to pick where you want to be.”

Mel was surprised by this revelation. “What are my options?”

“Option one: you live with your grandfather. He’s acting as your regent anyway, and probably the most reasonable choice. Option two: my wife and I have been nominated to adopt you. I expect they believe my military career will ensure you recieve the discipline they want you to have. And trust me, Mel, I run a tight leash.” Guile stated. Mel knew he meant every word. “And, finally, Option three: we attempt to find your godfather, Ryu. It’s the unknown factor, since we don’t know too much about him, but nobody could legitimately argue against the will left by your father.”

“I see. Thank you, Commander. I need some time to think.” Mel whispered.

“I understand. They’ll be expecting an answer in the morning.” Guile stood. “It’s also time for me to leave.”

“Commander?” Mel called, as Guile’s hand touched the door. “Who’s idea was it to have you adopt me?”

Guile considered his answer. “In the end, it was mine.” As the door closed, Mel was alone once again.

March, Japan, Kyoto Prefecture, Wilderness

It had taken roughly two weeks of back breaking swimming, but the fighter had finally made it back to Japan. As soon as he had stepped on to the beach, he dashed for the woods near the shore. No one had seen him.

For once, the fighter was satisfied. His training had served him well. With the death of Ken Masters, his revenge had finally begun. The fool had grown soft, yes, but had proved to be quite a challenge. Now, the message had been sent to the others who had participated in the fighter’s downfall. A warning that death was coming, and no amount of hiding would save them. And when the time came, he would finally settle the score… with him.

The fighter set off through the forest, obsession driving every step. A tear suddenly ran down the figure’s face, as the kanji on his back began to burn horribly. It glowed red with the ki that poured from the figure’s body. Why am I crying? he wondered.

March, America, San Francisco Airport

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining through a cloudless sky. Mel basked in the sun outside of the busy airport, enjoying the few remaining moments he would have before eight hours of travel. It’s a shame moments like this can’t last forever, he thought. Sighing, he picked up his crutches and limped into the airport.

Inside, he found his family and friends waiting for him. Together, they sat down and waited for the airliner that was to carry Mel to his destination: a brief stop over to Texas, then to Hong Kong, and finally to Japan.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mel?” Kyoko whispered to him. “You could stay with Commander Guile or your grandfather. Then you wouldn’t have to leave. Isn’t that what you told me?”

Mel looked at his dear friend. He knew it would be hardest to say goodbye to her. “I can’t, Kyoko. I’m sure they would look after me well enough. But if I stay with Grand-dad, I know he would watch me like a hawk, and I’d expect Commander Guile may want me to move onto a military base. And even if he didn’t I’d be too far away from San Francisco.”

“But Mel-,” Kyoko began, but at that moment the intercom announced the that the flight he would take was incoming. The group stood up and began to move towards the embarkment area. “Why Japan?”

“Because I don’t particularly have any special love of our police departments, if you get my meaning.” Kyoko didn’t say anything, seeming to understand.

Finally, the group arrived at the terminal. One by one, Mel hugged each of them in turn, thanking each of them individually. He bade Kyoko a tearful farewell, and hugged his grandfather fiercely. One by one they said goodbye. Finally, there was only Commander Guile and his family left. He hugged and kissed his cousin and aunt, and then shared a hearty handshake with the Commander. “Thank you for everything, Commander.”

“We’ll meet again, Mel.” Guile said, smiling. “I think you’ll do well with your godfather. He’s a good man. I’ll have to tell you the story sometime.”

“I would like that.” Mel said.

Mel waved as he passed through customs and the bag checking areas. It wasn’t long before he could no longer see his relatives. However, the guilt of lying to his best friend still hung with him. There was another reason why he was leaving. If the police wouldn’t show any initiative, then he was going to have to step up to the plate and do something about it. He couldn’t just sit back and do anything; that wasn’t his style. No, if he wanted to know what had happened to his parents, what really happened, then he would have to start his own investigation. And he would begin where Chase left off: Interpol. But it was obvious that he would find no more help in his homeland.

The only one I can count on now is myself, Mel thought. It’s up to me to find out what really happened. Japan, here I come.

End of Part 5: Farewells and Goodbyes
End of Chapter 1: Crimson Tears
Next Chapter: Dragon of Wind, Dragon of Water

Author’s Afterward: Can you guess who the next chapter is going to be about? Comments always welcome, I read all of them!

18

excellent first chapter Ryunnosuke and nice titles for the parts and chapters keep up the great work.

19

Omg

Oh My God

Oh My F*%$ing God!!!

I Think I Have Just Reached The Height Of Passion.

More!!! More!!!more!!!

20

Chapter 2, Part 1: Welcome to Shanghai

Birth of the Cold Dragon
Chapter 2: Dragon of Wind, Dragon of Water
Part 1: Welcome To Shanghai
Author: Ryunnosuke
Date: May 11, 2006

Author’s Preword: For those of you who may be wondering, I am using the Street Fighter Plot Canon Guide as the basis for most of the background for this story. It can be located at the address http://kattuggla.oru.se/dmd01/dm0103/test/faqs/SFplotguide40.txt. Special thanks goes out once again to gouki10 and S.Long Forever. Enjoy!

Story Synopsis: The fourteen year old boy known as Mel Masters lived a happy, carefree life, until the day when he received a disturbing cellphone message from his mother. Making his way home, he discovered his mother and father, Eliza and Ken Masters, had been murdered. Traumatized by their deaths, Mel lapsed into a deep depression. As his family tried to decide what to do with the young man, Mel’s friend Kyoko revealed possible evidence that his parents had been murdered by very different circumstances than what the police had revealed. Together, they began to dig for the truth. Mel was hindered by his uncle, Commander Guile, who appeared to be following him. Needing time to himself, Mel ran and hid in a secluded park, where he witnessed a gang harassing an old man and young girl. Despite his best efforts, Mel failed to protect the two victims, and was rescued by his uncle. After a week of recovering from his wounds, Mel came to terms with his uncle, and learned more about his parents deaths from Kyoko’s sources. Their suspicions proved accurate, as the FBI and Interpol were working together to cover up the facts. It became apparent to Mel that the only way to find out the truth was to leave his home and investigate on his own. Thus, he accepted the agreement and decision his parents had made years before, and went to look for his godfather, the legendary fighter Ryu, but only so that he could seek his own answers.

April, China, Shanghai, Underground Arena

In the dark, shadowed room of a basement located in the seedier section of Shanghai, crowds of people looking for excitement congregated to the underground arena. Businessmen, tourists, and the desperate flocked around the circular pit of sand, as the bookmakers made their rounds. The thick scent of sweat and blood permeated the dank room. Ah, Yun thought, now this is more like it.

The pigtailed martial artist made his way through the crowds toward a familiar figure. The man stood in the center of a group of people taking bets. When they drifted away to watch the next fight, Yun walked up to him. He was an aging man with grey hair braided in a short tail. The man wore shaded glasses.

“Heya, Lu Fao!” Yun said in Shanghainese, smiling. “How’s the business coming along?”

“Business is booming, brother Yun!” Fao replied. He ran his finger through a stack of betting tickets. “Making the normal rounds, or itching for action?”

“You should know the answer to that!” Yun yelled over the noisy din of the crowds, as one of the fighters went down in the pit. “Nobody around here wants to fight me anymore!”

“Everyone fears the awesome aerial techniques of the Storm Dragon, brother!” Fao yelled. “Can you blame them if the very thought of your prowess sends chills down their spines and fright through their bodies?”

“I think I won’t mind the thought as long as the thought of my prowess sends thrills and pleasure through the women!” They both laughed heartily. “I’ll see you later, Fao. The Dragons have a meeting tonight, and I can’t be late again! Yang would scold me!” Yun bade the older man goodbye, and left the building. Hopping on his skateboard, he took off down the alley towards his home.

As the young Chinese marital artist sped down the busy streets, he drew plenty of attention from the populace. It could be said this was because Yun was as reckless as he was at the age of twenty six as he was when he was in his teens. Needless to say, this meant that Yun didn’t so much as travel down the street on his skateboard, but sped down it at Mach 10, leaping over obstacles and people while doing so. Skidding down rails and grinding around corners, it was only a matter of time before his lack of caution caused him to lose balance and go tumbling to the ground…

April, China, Shanghai, Genhanten

One by one, the young and old members of the Twin Dragon Gang entered and sat at the circular wooden tables of the restaurant known as Genhanten. They sat and waited patiently, as the room slowly filled. The territory surrounding the caf was commonly known to the locals as Twin Shanghai, and was regarded as a fledgling village eight years ago. That changed when the original Twin Dragons, Yang and Yun Lee, went from its protectors to its leaders.

The kitchen entrance door opened, from which a young man stepped into the light. The members of the Twin Dragons all stood in respect for their leader. Yang Lee was the image of efficiency. A young man in his mid-twenties, he abandoned his gongfu-style sleeveless cheongsam for a dignified and respectable western-style dark suit, pressed shirt, and shiny cuff links. Yang was intelligent and successful; under his leadership, the Twin Dragons had thrived. He organized the gang to wipe out all influence from drugs from Twin Shanghai, and ordered patrols to eject those who would threaten the peace of the village. The Twin Dragons also stopped other criminal organizations from moving in and feeding off the populace. Mafia, gangs, and other troublemakers were all quickly removed, peacefully or forcibly. Most of the time, it simply wasn’t worth the effort to establish a presence in Twin Shanghai.

Yang also managed the Genhanten, and had made it into an attractive tourist spot while also serving as the gang’s headquarters. The restaurant itself was quite large, even for the section of Shanghai it resided in. It had been renovated to allow the Twin Dragons to expand it’s membership. A stage had been set inside to allow live bands to perform, and the kitchen had tripled in size to serve the crowds that came to sample its delicious cuisine. To say the least, business was excellent for the Genhanten.

“Thank you all for coming,” Yang said loudly and clearly in Mandarin, adopting a voice he had developed over the years that could be heard over talk of a crowd. Any remaining murmuring in the room quieted, as the collective members were silenced. Yang was quite proud of himself and his gang. He was also in a good mood, as he was about to reveal the gang’s latest accomplishments.

Yes, the only thing that could possibly ruin Yang’s good mood right now was-

A large tangle of arms and legs spilled through the door and into the nearest table, sending the men and women seated there sprawling. The table split in half, despite being quite sturdy, and splinters flew everywhere. Those nearest flung their arms up to shield themselves from the flying slivers of wood. Yang groaned, slapping his palm to his forehead.

Yes, the only thing that could possibly ruin Yang’s good mood had just arrived.

Yun stood up from the wreckage he had caused, putting his hand behind his head and smiling apologetically. “Sorry, I’m late!” he said in Shanghainese, waving his hand. “I kept tripping over all the slippery fish!”

The room, which only moments before was locked in a stunned silence, exploded in laughter. Shanghai’s humbly began as a small fishing village, but at the turn of the 20th century, it had expanded to become a port metropolis from which commerce, culture, and vice were prominent. The boom naturally increased the amount of fish the town brought in, and it was a joke that there would be so much fish that it would cover the original village’s entire land mass. Yun never failed to change any embarrassing situation he was in into a joke.

He also never failed to annoy his younger brother. Yun had always been the more popular of the two brothers that were the leaders of the Twin Dragons. When people laughed at or with Yun, it wasn’t in fear or nervousness. In reality, Yang was the one who made people feel nervous at times. Ever the popular brother, Yun treated everyone in the gang like a brother or sister, even if they were older than he was. He was the brother who made the Twin Dragons into a family.

Yang sighed. “Now that we’re all here,” he grunted, as the various members of the gang slapped Yun on the back. “We can get down to business.” Most of the business that night was the usual fare; reports from the patrols about the activity in Twin Shanghai, accounts of the gang’s various businesses, and the training of new and old recruits. The Twin Dragons were very thorough with their affairs, and nothing was left out. As the meeting went on, Yun stayed in the crowd with the other members of the gang, rather than join his younger brother at the front.

Yang found himself wishing once again that his brother would act his age. While he had adopted more mature forms of clothing befitting his station, Yun continued to wear his white, sleeveless cheongsam that he had favored ever since they were children. Even the hats he wore were still young and stylish, although he had added more buttons to it. Yang had always wondered if it was because his sibling disliked change, but couldn’t see how due to the events that forged their lives they way they were.

Ever since their eventful return to Shanghai from the third Street Fighter tournament, Yun and Yang had worked diligently to make their small part of Shanghai into a place where their relatives and neighbors could sleep safe at night. With the promise they received from the Illuminati, the mafia and yakuza involved in the village disappeared. However, the other small gangs that lived in the area were not so willing to comply. The Illuminati’s word did not apply to them, and the gangs made multiple attempts to establish a presence within the two brother’s home town.

Yun and Yang were determined to have their village retain it’s independence. They used their underworld connections to form their own gang, the Twin Dragons, using the name that the villagers had given them. Using the Dragons, the brothers waged war on the criminal element in their town. However, it soon became apparent that the conflict was tearing the village apart. When two gangs went to war, it was an often occurrence that one gang was crippled and the other was destroyed.

Yun, in one of his moments of rare brilliance and clarity, decided to use a new tactic. He began to dig into the past of the various clans fighting for supremacy, and found that many of the gangs were related by blood. Using this, he and Yang looked for the reasons why the gangs fought, and what their motives were. They disregarded the ones who sought personal power and wealth, and focused on the gangs who fought for the well being of their own towns. They sought audiences with their leaders, and proposed alliances between the two gangs.

Slowly, one by one, the Twin Dragons began to absorb the smaller gangs. Whatever people may have thought about Yun, no one could deny that he was wise for his age, despite his recklessness. They began with the Orange Koi gang that resided south from the Twin Dragon’s territory. The Koi gang had been in disagreement with the Black Warlord gang over territory. It was simple to get them to join in an alliance. With the Twin Dragons backing them, the Black Warlord’s quickly halted their bid for land. Next, Yun sent supplies to another gang, the Red Lions. It was unprecedented, as the Red Lion gang did not border the Twin’s territory, and several gangs were between them. None the less, the gang also joined the alliance.

After the third and fourth gangs joined the alliance, it became clear to the other gangs that hadn’t joined that the Twin Dragons were amassing a large gang that could wipe them out. When they began to look for allies, they found that the only remaining groups were the ones that they were at war with. With their enemies now surrounding them, the few gangs that remained quickly disbanded before they could be wiped out. The war was over.

Afterwards, as Yun and Yang settled into their new duties as leaders of the village, they were approached by the gang leaders who had agreed to the alliance. Impressed with their ability to unite the clans, they had all agreed that the Twin Dragons should lead them in the future. Yun disagreed harshly at first, not willing to take on the responsibility for so many people. However, he conceded the point when Yang pointed out that if they didn’t assume leadership of all the gangs, then not only would the disbanded men and women run amok, they might even start another war without someone to mediate between them.

The Twin Dragons had few rules, but they were to be strictly abided by. The gang members were not allowed to fight with one another, and they had to settle all disputes between each other by a council formed from the former gang leaders. Also, the gangs were not allowed to use guns in their warfare, the point being that martial arts was less deadly and could still get the point across to your opponent. Killing was also prohibited, although it was understood that exceptions would have to be made. Finally, it was made clear that this new clan was for the benefit of the villages the gangs controlled, and personal gain was not the objective.

Using their newfound resources, the brothers rebuilt the territory given to them by the people. Because the Dragons protected them, the villagers financed and supported them. Feeling that he had to do his part, Yang assumed command of most of the daily affairs of the gang. Using the money from the businesses that the clan owned, he invested in stocks and opened more stores in the village. Soon, their section of Shanghai was booming with success, and everyone was happy. The Dragons kept the peace, and the village prospered.

And yet, I’m still the unpopular brother, Yang thought. As the years went on, Yang grew more and more distant from his brother. They were still close, but they were so different now. Yun felt his younger brother should just lighten up, while Yang felt his brother wasn’t being responsible by acting more mature. Well, maybe after the announcement tonight, I’ll have a little more respect around here. Without me, it never would have been possible.

After the patrols made their reports, Yang stood up from the table in the front. “It sounds like everything is going smoothly. Everyone, thank you for working so hard.” Yang straightened his tie as everyone focused their attention on him. “I now have an announcement to make. I’m very pleased to say that our stocks in the Vishaj and Nakamura Industries have increased. Our portfolios with Fu Lai Mao Corporation yielded a five hundred percent increase. Also-”

“Hey, just tell us like it is!” Yun yelled from the back. “We ain’t got all day!” The gang laughed along with him.

Red in the face, Yang glared at his brother. “Show some respect!” His brother leaned back in his chair and pretended not to hear him. “Now as I was saying. Our stocks went up. We’re rich. By the end of the year, everyone who invested will receive a check for 25,000 yuan.”

After the second stunned silence of that night’s meeting, the room erupted in cheers again. The men and women jumped up in elation, clapping each other on the backs. They ran up and hoisted Yang on to their shoulders, shouting praise. Pride and satisfaction swelled within the young man. He looked over at his brother, a smirk on his face. Finally, he had done something for his people that would rival his brother’s accomplishments. Finally, he would have the respect he deserved.

Yang deflated, as he saw that the members of the gang had also raised Yun on to their shoulders. They were applauding him as much as Yang, despite the embarrassed Yun’s protests. As Yun turned he managed to catch the look of utter outrage and jealousy from his younger brother.

Sigh, Yun thought, this is the last thing I need.

At that moment, a man stepped out from the kitchen. He was an older man in his late fifties stood in regal purple cheongsam and blue cap. His long, salt and peppered ponytail reached almost to his knees, and his mustache twitched when he spoke. “Yun! Yang! I need to speak with you!” Lee called over the crowd of people. Their uncle had a serious look about him. “Please call the meeting and come into the back!”

April, China, Shanghai, Genhanten (back room office)

Yun and Yang sat calmly in the two chairs in front of a large desk, which was located in an offshoot room from the Genhanten kitchen. During the day, Lee could conduct his business while keeping an eye on the daily work of the Genhanten, a restaurant that he had been managing since he was a young man. Now, he sat behind the desk with a stern frown on his face, with his hands criss crossed in front of him. “I only want to say this once. It seems that a debt has been called upon by one of our mutual friends from Interpol… so stay quiet, Yun, or I will have to punish you for the interruption.”

“Hey! Why do you assum- OW!” Yun cried out, as his uncle Lee suddenly appeared at his side. The frying pan left a painful mark on poor Yun’s face.

“You can’t hurt him that way, uncle.” Yang said nonchalantly. “Hoimei has slapped him enough to make a callus. I recommend that you try his arms or ribs.”

“Yang, what are you say- OW!”

“Thank you, Yang.” Lee said, putting down the frying pan. “Now listen up. It would appear that our dear friend in Interpol has had someone she was keeping an eye on disappear under her very nose. Obviously, Interpol agents aren’t up to par these days. Thus, she has asked us to locate her young ward and bring him safely to Hong Kong for her.” The older man paused as these words sank into his young wards.

Yang, as usual, processed the information quickly and seemed to store it in his memory before Lee’s eyes. When he was done, Yang nodded to his uncle to show that he understood and was ready for the next part to come. Yun, on the other hand, sat with his hand on his chin, thinking hard. “Who do we know in Interpol? Hm…” Finally, with an excited expression, he looked up. “Oh, you mean Chun Li?!”

Lee and Yang sighed together. “How many other people do you know who works for Interpol, idiot?” Yang muttered. “Of course it’s Chun Li.”

“Hey, can I help it if she doesn’t call or write? I have so many women in my life as it is, you know.” Yun said in a carefree tone. “Besides, Ms. Li had her chance when I was eighteen. I could have been her sugar daddy, and she would have been my mature, sexy momma, but, OH NO, we can’t have that, now can we?”

“As if!” Yang yelled.

“Anyway,” Lee continued, before the two brothers could bicker further, “Our friend has reason to believe that one of the gangs in Shanghai is responsible for the kidnaping. This is a picture of the boy.” He leaned forward and handed Yang the picture, as Yun leaned in to have a look. The boy featured was maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, with short sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He had a solemn expression on his face.

“Looks like ‘Ms. Li’ found someone younger than you to play with, Yun.” Yang replied, smirking, as his older brother’s jaw dropped.

“What’s this scruffy looking foreigner got that I don’t have!?” Yun screamed. His eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets. It was honestly the funniest thing Yang had ever seen, and he dropped to the floor, laughing, forgetting himself.

“Settle down!” Lee snapped. Yun sat down, fuming, as his brother stood and returned to his own seat. “Now, I need you two to use your resources to locate the young man and bring him here. If the rumors are true, he is a long way off from where he should be, and could be anywhere in the surrounding area. We have already been promised compensation, so use whatever you believe is necessary. Once you have him, we can transport him to Hong Kong. And above all else, bring him back alive. Do you two understand?” His nephews nodded. “Good. I’ll manage the Genhanten in the mean time. Good luck.”

As the two brothers left, Lee could here them bickering again. “You realize that Li isn’t her last name…” Yang sneered.

“It isn’t?”

*End of Chapter 2, Part 1: Welcome to Shanghai

Author’s Afterward: Some things you should know: Mandarin is the common language used in China, but Shanghainese is the country dialect that Shanghai uses. Most people under the age of 40-50 can speak Mandarin, but most will speak Shanghainese. Comments always welcome, I read all of them!