The Journey of the Nobody
First Step of the Unknown
"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Lao Tzu
/
I can't sleep, He thought for what must've been the fifth time that night.
He turned his head and looked at the digital clock once again.
11:23. Should've been asleep three hours ago. Damn it, I've got to stop looking at that thing.
The young man rose from the bed, dressed in nothing but a pair white briefs. He took a few steps into the tiny bathroom and flipped on the fluorescent lights, flickering before filling the tiny bathroom with its sickly yellow color, turning the already dirty looking light blue tiles a shade of unearthly green. The light continued into the tiny motel room, the beige colored coarse carpet and similarly colored twin sized bedcovers to able to show off their ugly tone as well.
Man, I never thought I'd be in a place that looked worse than my apartment, he thought, taking a quick glance at the small bed and room behind him before looking back at his own reflection in the mirror. Mum was right, aesthetics do matter. I never thought I'd miss the white carpet and blue walls of that tiny hole back home.
He finally focused on his face in the mirror, his green irises framed by the slightest hint of bloodshot arteries. He pushed away some of the bangs of his chestnut brown hair and got a better view of the rings of darkness beginning to frame his sockets.
Bloody hell, I look like shit. Just another day in the life of Scott Lovett, eh?
He linked his fingers behind his head and stretched his arms upward, stretching his muscles before letting loose with a yawn. He dropped both arms at his side and hung his head, closing his eyes.
No, you damn bastard, pull yourself together, you didn't come this far and spend this much to critique yourself now. Gotta get your damn head in the game.
He slapped himself against both cheeks before taking in a deep breath and releasing. He looked at his reflection with renewed determination, which only dampened when he saw what was in the mirror.
The young man looked at his body, fair skinned without much of a tan anywhere except his face, and even that was barely noticeable.
That's what you get for training inside, or at least when the sun's not shining. The cap probably has something to do with it, too.
He kept going and examined his body. Biceps, triceps, pectorals, abdominals, quadriceps, calves, every muscle on his body was… decent. Lean but not toned, noticeable but nothing impressive.
Ok, so not every man showing up is going to be a Sagat, or a Zangeif, or even a Guile, but god damn it, I bet even most of the sheilas showing up will have better bods than mine! Ugh, for fuck's sake it's happening again, calm down…
He knew he was nervous but this point only served to drive that home. When he was anxious he could never keep his word usage to one culture, not even in his head. The worst part was none of them were acts, so it weirded out everyone around him even more. Luckily no one was present to see him.
Then again, I'm not even saying this out loud so what am I worried for?
He sighed again. He was nervous, that's to be expected. It was his first international tournament after all, and he didn't have a particularly stellar record before this. And to join not just any international tournament but what was being billed as the next World Warrior tournament, why wouldn't he be nervous? He saw some of the other guys on the way here and most if not all of them looked like they could snap him in half. Sure, he wasn't a twig, but they weren't exactly just "fit" either.
And look at you, one of the only three from the land down under, representing the great country of the Aussies. Well, it's not like I'm here for those blokes anyway. Hell, it's not even a place I can really call a "homeland." I guess nowhere gets that title, really.
He cracked his necked and glared back into the mirror, preparing for the mental pep-talk.
Forget it, mate. You're not here for anyone but yourself. Hell, you're not even here to win.
Scott had no illusions of a grand upset, of being a dark horse winner, or even a finalist.
Fight. Learn. Grow. Experience the clash of fists and feet and techniques. But look beyond. Victory and defeat are unimportant, what is important is who and what each person is. The clash of motivations, of philosophies, the building of experiences. It is the clash that matters, not the end result.
… Heh, I almost sounded pretty cool for a second.
He allowed himself a small smirk before getting to the task at hand.
Ok, first up, you need to get to sleep. If not your stamina and reflexes will be shot.
He headed for the closet and started to get dressed, first pulling on his white socks. He then slipped on his t-shirt with two green horizontal stripes and one violet stripe in between, and over that the green long-sleeved collared shirt with blue plaid stripes before reaching for his blue jeans. He stopped a moment when he heard a familiar "clink" and looked at the chain clipped to the belt loops on his jeans. He smiled, the seemingly innocuous object a reminder of the path he'd decided to walk three years ago. The nobody who just got pushed on the winds and tides, sent all over the world at others whims, was finally going to start carving his own path. He stopped reminiscing and pulled on his jeans before slipping on and tying his green sneakers with white soles and laces. Finally was the dark green flat cap, which honestly was more a habit than anything else. Seriously, what purpose would it serve at this time of night?
Think I saw a general store around here. Maybe I can get some sleep aids, or if nothing else a glass of warm milk to help me catch some Z's. A fighter can't run without rest.
He closed the door behind him and locked the keys before walking down the stairs and away from the motel.
/
It took him a while but he finally made it to the small general store on the outer rim of Paris. He bought some melatonin, making sure to get something that would only help him go to sleep and not knock him out completely. After all, he had to wake up the next day. It's nice to know that the rumors he'd heard about the French giving English speakers a hard time, especially the one's that seemed American, at least wasn't true for everyone as the cashier for the 24-hour store had been very helpful.
But now I'm hurting for money even worse. Man, I better get past the qualifying rounds tomorrow or else there's no way I'll be able to eat or even get a place to bloody sleep with the money I have. Bugger, it's happening again.
He was alone with his thoughts for a while, something not good for his state of mind really, when saw something that caught his attention. A young girl was sitting on a bench in front of him, likely a teenager judging by her size, with fair skin. Her blonde hair was tied back into pigtails held together with red ribbons, and her eyes were a rather pretty sky blue. Judging by her somewhat labored breathing, the presence of sweat on her skin, and the water bottle resting by her feet, she was likely just resting from doing some sort of workout. But what caught his attention was what she was wearing: A white karate gi with red edges at the sleeves, bottom, and collar, held with a red belt that had the design of France's flag at one end. On her legs she wore blue baggy karate pants and her bare feet and hands were wrapped in bandages. In addition around her wrists were red, white, and blue bracelets. He had somehow gotten so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he had approached her.
She gave him a long look up and down before speaking.
"Bonjour, monsieur."
"O-Oh! U-Um, bon-bonjour," he stuttered back.
He looked at her for a moment more before she raised an eyebrow.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked in an annoyed tone, and in perfect English.
Oh hell, I've been staring.
"Uh, I'm sorry, I was zoning out for minute and I guess I didn't see you until now. Sorry 'bout that, luv."
"'Luv?'" she looked back, confused.
"Aw hell, um, I didn't mean nothing by it sheila, I just kinda-"
"'Sheila?'"
"I-I mean m-miss! I didn't mean to-! Oh, bollocks…"
Scott felt his face flush and pull the brim of his cap down in shame. He'd done it again, damn nervous vocabulary switching. He was about to head off before he heard a snerk. He looked up and saw the somewhat antagonistic expression she was wearing before had left and in its place was a genuine smile of amusement.
"You're a bit weird, aren't you?"
"Heh. Wouldn't be the worst thing I've ever been called…"
"Anyway, why were you staring at me like that?"
"Oh, um. It's just your outfit. I mean, I don't keep up with fashion, but last I checked a karate gi and bare feet weren't exactly the latest trend for teenaged girls."
"Oh this? This is my fighting outfit!" she proclaimed proudly.
"'Fighting?'" he echoed, his interest piqued. "Are you a martial artist?"
"Yup! Going to be entering the international tournament tomorrow!"
"Wait, what!? You mean the S.I.N. tournament that's begin held in Paris!? That international tournament!?" he almost shouted back.
"Mmm-hmm!" she nodded in response.
"By yourself?" he asked, his voice quieting as he was now more confused than outright shocked.
"Well, my master is taking me and entering as well, but it's not like this is a tag team tournament, so I'll be on my own once it starts," she answered confidently.
"Um… No offense meant, but aren't you a little young? I mean, I know a fighter's age isn't a representation of their strength, but you look like you'd still be in middle school."
The girl's confident smile began to falter for a moment before she nervously began twiddling her fingers. "U-Uh, well, I'll be honest, I am a bit nervous. I mean, it is my first time in a tournament."
Scott looked down at her and after a moment smiled.
"You know what, I think I can help with that."
"Huh?"
He extended his hand.
"My name's Scott Lovett, and like you I'm a fighter who's got his own doubts and hesitations about the upcoming tournament. And, if you'd let me, I'd like to see if we can't help each other."
The girl looked back at him, surprised for a moment before standing up and grasping his hand with a smile.
"My name is Emma Brooks, and I accept."
Scott nodded back before releasing his hand.
"So…" he began after looking around for a moment. "Know a place where we could have match in peace?"
/
"How's this?" Emma asked after leading Scott to a public park.
The area was wide, more than wide enough to be a jogging course, and had bushes and trees to conceal them. He felt that their presence would probably seem suspicious, but then again it's not like there were places for people to have sparring matches on a whim in the middle of the night. Or at any time, for that matter.
"This should do fine," Scott responded, pulling out a pair of chestnut brown fingerless motorcycle gloves and strapping them on. "So let's try and not go at each other too hard, alright? We don't want to get injured before the qualifying rounds."
"Ha! No way!" she responded while taking a battle stance, legs spread shoulder length with a slight bend as she held both hands out in front, palms open. "If you're a real fighter, don't hold back!"
Great, the type that doesn't know how to do anything but go at full throttle. Scott thought with an exasperated smirk.
"We'll see if you're still singing that tune soon enough," he responded. He took his own stance, turning to his side with one arm held out in front of him and the other close to his chin as he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.
Emma's eyes lit up at this. "That stance! Are you a fan of Fei-Long!?" she almost squealed back.
"U-Um, yeah," Scott responded, somewhat surprised at her enthusiasm.
"Wow! Does that mean you're taught in Hitenryu like him!?"
"N-Not exactly," he responded, getting a confused expression in return. "Let's just get on with the match. By the way, be more careful in the tournament."
"Huh?"
"You totally dropped your guard when you got excited. In a real fight, your opponent would've probably taken advantage of that."
Emma flinched before returning to her proper stance, a blush of embarrassment showing through her stern battle expression. "Thank you."
Scott nodded. "Alright, let's see what you've got."
She took that as her cue to rush forward, still keeping her guard up as she did. Scott sent out a quick jab to see how she'd react, which turned out to be a bad move. She swatted his attack aside and kept rushing in, then grabbed his collar with both hands. With surprising swiftness she pivoted so her back turned to him and threw him over her shoulder. Scott wasn't expecting this and landed flat on his back, winding him.
He forced his eyes open as she let go, just soon enough to see her raise her right foot into the air, ready for a stomp. He summoned up his strength and curled forward, throwing as much strength and momentum as he could into a forward roll to escape. Her heard the nearly bare foot connect with the ground, not far from where his chest was, and kept escape going for another two rolls.
He quickly stopped, pivoted to face her, and planted both palms on the ground as he steadied himself. She had already returned to her fighting stance but made move to advance.
A grappler, huh? Figures a little girl would have moves to deal with a bigger guy. Not that I'm some huge titan lurking over her. Still, she's got some strength to throw me like that. I may have sent out a jab but I was well balanced on the ground, not off balance with my momentum heading her way.
"Must be pretty embarrassing to have little girl throw a big guy like you!" she taunted with a smirk.
Trying to make me loose my cool, huh? Guess you've had training in more than just technique. Let's see how you handle it.
"Yeah, I'm pretty surprised. I guess you're not some Barbie doll after all," he retorted.
That seemed to produce exactly the effect he wanted, as she soon began to practically seethe with rage. "I am not a Barbie doll!" she shouted back.
"Come over her and prove it then, Barbie."
That was apparently the final straw for Emma as she then came barreling down at Scott, barely remembering to hold her fighting stance as she did. He took advantage of this, and when she was within range propelled himself from his kneeling position into a jumping kick. She reacted as quickly as she could, stopping the charge and putting up her guard, but it wasn't fast enough. The kick slipped by her raised arms and connected with her forehead, forced her to stumble back.
As soon as he landed Scoot made a quick dash forward before hooking her front foot with his own, pulling her forward and off balance. He quickly adjusted his own footing and flipped over her, back touching back, before landing on the other side. As he flipped he clipped his chain from his belt loops and wrapped it around his fist. Upon landing he spun and struck her in the temple with his chained first, sending her to the ground face first.
Scott leaped into the air for a follow-up, raising his chained fist into the air ready to drive it home into her back. To his surprise, Emma managed to recover enough to spot him in the air as he was coming down and extended her leg at him. The kick hit him in his gut as he came down, but it didn't stop him from punching her with the metal object, though it did reduce the impact somewhat.
Scott stumbled backward, slightly winded, while Emma forced through the pain enough to roll onto her back and scoot away. Scott quickly unwrapped his chain and hooked it back to his belt loops as Emma stood up and took her stance.
"Cheater!" she shouted. "You used a weapon!"
"Weapons are going to be legal in the tournament, you know," Scott retorted, taking his stance as well. "Anything but guns are allowed."
Emma growled, realizing he was right.
"You'd better be prepared for the other fighters to use things like knives or clubs, or else you might end up loosing more than just a match," he warned in a calm voice.
Emma looked shocked for a moment before putting on a stern face. She recognized that he was trying to give her advice and nodded firmly.
Thinking about it now, I probably should've riled her up even more if I wanted to win. Guess I'm just too much of nice guy to do that. Seeing as she's calmed down now, I doubt that "Barbie" thing will work again.
Scott examined his opponent, her outstretched palms a reminder of both her reaction time and her fighting style.
That grapple style she's got is giving me a lot of trouble because I can't get in close. She's not just stronger than she looks, she's fast, too. I'll need to get her to make a mistake if I want to get by that.
Scoot rushed forward, pouring on the steam and keeping his strides and her reach in mind. Emma held fast and flexed her fingers, ready for another throw. At the last possible moment Scott slammed both feet on the ground and skidded to a halt, just barely inside her reach. She lunged forward and tried to grab him but was surprised when she found herself missing her target as he leaned back, barely avoiding her grasping fingers.
With her guard open Scoot stepped forward with a quick punch to her chest (Don't hit the boobs, don't hit the boobs, don't hit the boobs), pushing her back a bit. He followed with a short hop forward and punched her in the kidneys with his other fist, pushing her back more, before planting both feet and finishing with close gut punch with the other hand. The force sent Emma back a few steps as she struggled to recover.
Scott decided to finish it off with a roundhouse kick to the head, twisting his body for a fierce snap to temple. To his surprise, she ducked and then rolled under his kick, stopping after one roll and positioning herself behind him, albeit facing the other direction.
Not sure how to react, Scott use his grounded foot to hop away from Emma before his other foot came back down. Unfortunately, in his panic he dropped his guard completely and was unprepared for the next attack.
Emma, without even turning to face him, launched herself at Scott. She twisted herself sideways in mid-air, raising both feet up before bringing them both crashing down on Scott, hitting him in the shoulder and forcing him down. Though he didn't fall, it created the opening she needed.
Once she landed Emma dashed forward and grabbed onto Scott's collar. In surprising display of strength she planted both feet and pulled Scott to the side before using the momentum to lift him into the air behind her. Continuing the circular motion, she swung him around once more before putting all her strength and momentum into hurling him back first into the ground.
Scott wheezed, the air being knocked out of him for the third time that night. Emma was preparing her next attack when he held out his hand for her to stop. She held fast as he coughed, desperately trying to catch his breath.
"O-Ok," he managed to wheeze out. "Y-You win. I'm done."
Emma looked shocked for a moment. "Seriously?" she asked in disbelief. Scott nodded in response. "But we've barely started!" she complained.
Scott slowly picked himself up as he continued. "Yeah, but like I said, we've both got tournament qualifications tomorrow. We don't want to injure ourselves before we even sign up, do we?"
"B-But-!"
"Besides, you would've won anyways," he added as he dusted himself off.
"W-What?" she asked, incredulous.
"Yeah, believe me I can tell. You may not be as strong as me but you're still pretty strong. You're also faster and your moves are more polished than mine. I can't say for sure, but you would've most likely beat me."
"I can't believe you're saying that. Don't you have any problems with admitting defeat to a little girl?" she asked, slightly teasing him.
"Hey, if there's anything I've learned it's that you can't judge a fighter by their appearance, especially not their height or their age. I know this probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but you've got some real talent." He extended his hand towards her. "Thanks for the match."
Emma still seemed surprised by how well Scott was taking this, and took a moment to respond. "L-Likewise," she answered, and shook his hand.
"So, feeling better?" Scott asked after letting go.
"Huh?"
"Feeling less nervous? I know I am," he explained with a smile.
She smiled back. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."
"That's great," he said while walking over and picking up his cap. He dusted it off before putting it back on.
Probably fell off after her first throw.
"I really gotta thank you for this. The match, I mean," Scott said.
"It's no problem. Like you said, it helped both of us out."
"Yeah, but I don't just mean that," he stated, getting a confused look in response. "I mean, after seeing some of the guys coming here, it felt like I was the only guy who didn't seem to have any confidence trying to sign up for this thing."
"Oh. Yeah, I know how that feels," Emma responded, somewhat dejectedly.
"But now, I'm feeling better about it."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, if there's someone so new to this that even I can teach them something than maybe I'm not as outclassed as I thought!"
"Hey!" she yelled back.
"Heh. I'm just messin' with ya. Seriously though, thanks. I needed this."
"Yeah, yeah, you've said that like ten times already," she responded in a somewhat annoyed voice.
/
"But really, you've got some polished moves. Who's your trainer?" Scott asked, he and Emma heading back the way they came.
"He's a mercenary who adopted me less than a year ago," she responded.
"'A mercenary?'" he asked. "A soldier for hire?"
"Well, I guess, but he's not really like some hired killer or anything. He's a really nice guy, honest."
"And he adopted you? So he's like your father now?"
"Well, not really. We think of each other more as roommates," she explained. "But I guess we are pretty close. After all, he's a huge fan of Fei-Long just like me!"
"A mercenary who's a fan of Hong-Kong martial arts films? That's something I never thought I'd hear. I guess this world really is filled with all kinds."
"Yup! And I can tell you're a fan, too!"
"Well, yeah, I said I was."
"I know, but I mean even more than that!"
"Oh?"
"Yeah! You even used his moves in our fight!"
"Wow! You could tell?"
"Yup! First you got me with the Rekkukyaku, even though you only did the flying kick part of it, and then you got me with the Tenshin, even though you crossed it with hitting me with that chain. Then you hit me with all three punches of the Rekkaken."
"I can't believe you could tell all that while being hit! And also because my versions were so much poorer than his."
"Well, nobody is better at being Fei-Long than Fei-Long. Did you train under him? Or someone else who trained under him?"
"Nope."
"Who trained you then?"
"Nobody."
"W-What?!" she exclaimed in surprise.
"I'm completely self-taught. Then closest thing I've had to training was watching fights on T.V. or the internet or watching Fei-Long's films. I've had no teachers other than myself and experience."
"Whoa! To think you could get this good all by yourself!"
"Don't say it like that, you make it sound like I'm actually good. After all, I've been training for a few years now, teaching myself and entering in few tournaments, and I'm only this good."
"But that's not bad!" she insisted.
"How long have you been trained?" he asked.
"Um… a few months, actually."
"Just a few months!?" he responded in shock.
"Well, they were some really intense months, and I trained almost the whole week every week," she explained sheepishly.
"It's still really impressive."
"Yeah, I guess."
The two had finally reached the bench where they first met.
"Well, I guess I should be headed back now. I need to catch some sleep before the early bus if I want to be rested for the tournament," Scott said.
"Yeah, I guess I should be getting back, too," Emma agreed. "I hope we see each other again."
"No offense meant, but I hope we don't meet again until after the tournament. Not that I have much a chance of winning anyway," Scott said with a smirk.
Emma giggled. "Yeah, I get you. So, where should I look for you then?"
"Huh?"
"After the tournament. Where should I try to find you?"
Scott was a little taken aback, not expecting this young girl to actually want to be associated with him.
Then again, she has been trained and adopted by a mercenary, so maybe she doesn't mind making weird friends. I suppose a loser who lives in a one-room apartment isn't that strange by comparison.
"I don't know how you'll get there, but I suppose you can check the phone book if you ever happen to be in Adelaide."
"'Adelaide?' Where's that?"
"Australia."
She flashed a look of surprise. "Wow. Well, I'll see what I can do then! Bye-bye!"
She waved as she jogged off and he waved back before turning around and heading to the motel. He quickly glanced at the bag full of melatonin before continuing.
Guess I needed a different kind a sleep aid.
/
Thank you for reading the first chapter of "Journey of the Nobody"! I really appreciate it!
To those of you who are wondering about "When You're Strange", fear not as I have not given up the project! I've done far too much planning to ditch it now, even if four games have come out since I started it.
This story will be considerably shorter than that project, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it ends before the chapter numbers get into the double digits.
For those of you who want to know about Scott you can head to my deviantart page where I go by the same name. As for Emma, she's actually the character from her own story that a fellow deviant asked if it was possible for her to be put in my story. Her ID on DA is ReikoEmmaLover.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy Scott's story and have fun with him meeting other famous Street Fighters!