Hey all. The other night I was smoking and playing some SFA2 and for some reason when I got home I started writing and ended up with a piece of fanfic! I’ve never done anything like this before so its not great but I really enjoyed the writing. Anyway here you go:
Flashing blue energy engulfed his opponent as the very fabric of existence lit up and flew from his hands.
HADOUKEN!
Kicks scythed across the chest of another dumbstruck assailant as the stranger whirled around three times in the space of one, balletic leap forward.
TATSUMAKI
As his feet touched down he twisted into a mighty uppercut that lifted both he and his third opponent feet from the ground.
SHORYUUUKEN!
He landed a second before the thug came crashing down face first. By the time gravity had inflicted the final blow he had already recovered his breath control.
Travelling through urban areas was both a pleasure and a chore for him. The modern world was a harsh, uneducated place where even the violence was imperfect but he saw no reason to avoid it. His travels were to be unlimited. For the three foolish muggers who now lay scorched, gasping and unconscious before him a profound lesson had been given, if they were prepared to hear it. Ryu hoped that with luck they would make spiritual progress. He saw his role in this kind of situation as an agent of karma, consciously inflicting pain on those who thoughtlessly cause the suffering of others. Sadly he found that this kind of man was far too common. Still, he felt he wouldnt have long to wait for better company. For the previous few days he had started to feel the presence of a worthy opponent destined to soon cross his path, an occurrence he could not deny anticipating. In the meantime the three fools who now begin to fade into the blackness of the night will have wounds to remember him by. Terrible burns damage for the first, chest pains for many years to come for the second and the third paid in the currency of facial features: a broken nose and four missing teeth. They will all face ridicule for their story, a tale of a fireball-wielding karate master who refused to hand over his belongings despite having a gun waved in his face. A man who decimated them in less time than it takes to cross the street. A man who is the product of processes and disciplines alien to them. The smell of crispy-fried street thug was starting to waft along the alley, causing Ryu some regret. He had only used his wave-fist technique because a firearm was present but he knew it was excessive force regardless. There didnt appear to be anyway he could have resolved the situation via the gentle way, a realisation that caused the words of someone he once knew to refresh in his memory: once you stare down the barrel you cant avoid an arms race Ryu chided himself. Such thoughts only distract one from the present, from the clear state of mind required to achieve any greatness, the state that is the source of his powers. Ryu returned to that state. He picked up his bag and once again began walking.