Hey, welcome to my new, simply fantastic story: Operation: Terry Bogard Must Die. This story here is written as a humor. There will be some fighting, but over all, it's a silly, light hearted fic. Or I intended it to be. Seems like I have made changes and it became rather serious. This is based off King of Fighters- not Fatal Fury, so expect KoF characters to make their appearances.

I'm going to say this in the beginning. This is a story with an original character. I really don't care if anyone flames me, because I admit, this story is written mostly for self satisfaction: as in, if I could get the chance, I really would attempt to get Terry to SHUT. UP. Not because I hate him personally, no. I love his design, his characteristics are all right- but it's just one thing I'll never be able to stand in the Fatal Fury/KoF games…

His. Voice. His really annoying voice saying those really annoying catch phrases…

So let me not delay this further and get this story hit off.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fatal Fury/King of Fighter, so that means I don't own Terry Bogard, Rock Howard or any of the peeps that are in here, except for my own original characters, namely the Walker family. I can only wish, because Omg. The character designs are GORGEOUS. But I digress.

Prologue: A Girl With a Mission.

Terry Bogard's Residence: 10PM.

My charcoal orbs glared at the man with the lengthy blond hair meters away from the room I was currently in. I grit my teeth in annoyance as my head throbbed. The idiot had done it again. If I hadn't acted, this would become rather inconvenient and painful.

So now I declared myself as a girl with a mission.

How did I get myself stuck in this position? How did it even start? What the hell is even going on? I'll let you know. I'll inform you of why I've now decided to tread this path I now I have stepped in, without much of a choice.

Earlier in the Day- 8:30pm.

Great.

It was already a lovely enough day, having to earn my school dues by knocking some wannabe street thug flat in a street fight. The idiot caught a hit and my thigh was in slight pain- but I won that match along with a nice sum of money. But of course, luck was not in my favor this day. After I counted my winnings and turned to scurry off, I saw her waiting there.

Just Perfect. My mom busted me fighting in the streets of South Town yet again. She's a prestigious fighter who owns some lame establishment where fighting and training is done in a respectable, organized manner- so of course she's completely against street fighting. The way matches were- some people doing whatever necessary to win, no matter the methods, and also wagering money to win. She always went on about how it wasn't a dignified form of fighting.

But what the hell else could I do? I had to save up for an assortment of payments for more leisurely activities at my stupid prestigious private school.

Can you tell I hate things with a certain fancy air?

But more importantly- the reason I had to save up for these things was because she cut back entirely on my allowance. Not even sparing a single damn dime. The cheapskate. How much money did she earn running her damn place? A lot. She could swim in it. A matter of fact, wipe her rear clean after a crap and burn it.

None the less, as I mentioned, she's a cheapskate. Ended my earnings. Expected me- already 17 years old- to not need any money… As if. I opted to earn it by fighting for it in the streets. I was pretty good, if I do say so myself. Yeah, I have to give credit where it's due- it's in part to my lineage. My parents are both amazing fighters with skill in two different areas, so I was able to learn them both- learning to control my energy waves along with the wind. Of course, since my mother is the one with all the gears turnin' and has the better skill of the two (he has the energy while my mom has the wind), my dad's practically her bitch, but I digress. When it came to fighting in the streets, it's not like I did it often, but so far I have a one loss record. Some blond kid defeated me, although he was really against being pit against me in the first place. But ah well, I take my losses in stride. It's not like I didn't get creamed in the beginning and from time to time in my mom's establishment. That could be in part that since two years ago, I've always fought in one league higher than my own age allowed for so I could always stay strong and sharp. The perks of being the owners daughter.

Sorry, I'm side tracking again. What's so glorious about my mom catching me street fighting is that she caught me red handed for the 10th time… and before, she decided that if I my shenanigans had reached the double digits, it would be the last straw and she'd act on it.

So here I am, at my door step. "Ma, listen to me, please!" I yelled at her, my long, loosely tied raven pony tail swinging with my movements.

"Absolutely not." She held out a sky blue duffel bag towards me. Since it was gaping open, I could see the contents of it were my clothes.

I let out an irritated sigh. "You're not really doing this, are you? Look. I have things I have to pay for, and you're not giving me a red cent for it! Everything in school isn't exactly free. You do know that I have to pay for just about every single payment the school decides to make up?" One of my palms were rested against my forehead now. I could not believe this.

My mother's dark eyes flashed dangerously as she tossed my duffel bag at me. I recovered it quickly before it hit the floor, and that's when my mother took the opportunity to grab me by the hair. "Do you really enjoy the life of a street rat?!" She was yanking it. And her being such a fighter… it really hurt, to say the very least.

Against feeling pain that I had no proper grounds on receiving, I acted quickly and used a wave of wind to cut off the pony tail she hung onto. She fell back a little while I recovered myself, my hair now falling slightly below my chin. I'll have to adjust to it's length in due time. "It's not that I enjoy acting like a street rat behind your back… but the only means I can use to make a living here." I answered simply.

My mother stared at me indignantly, probably wondering what she should do. She threw my now chopped off hair onto the floor and spun me around, giving me a vicious kick right on the ass, causing me to stumble onto the floor. "If you choose to keep acting like that to make a living… if you want to continue acting like a street rat, have fun becoming one!"

The door was slammed before I could even respond or make a movement. I stared at the brick house before me before getting up, annoyed and giving the door a swift kick. I looked down at my knee. Some flesh was scraped off… I could see the meat and some blood bubbled to the surface. Letting out a heavy sigh and frowning, I started walking, taking to the streets…

Roaming the streets of South Town. At Night. Alone. Of course, that's when I heard a crackle and looked up, droplets hitting my head until they crashed from the heavens at a heavy force. Beautiful. All I need is some crazed pedophile to come along and my day is complete… I muttered a slur of colorful words as my school uniform started to dampen a bit. So stereo typical of the weather to go for such a grimy situation. This is something that should only happen in fiction. Not to an actual girl.

My thoughts were interrupted when, just as I suspected would happen, some burly man grabbed onto my wrist, trying to pull me. I resisted as much as I could, but I was growing weary. I didn't want to resort to violence just yet, since you know… we're face to face and he might draw a weapon if he saw me ready to act.

Out of absolutely no where (probably down the corner where anyone could see this happen if they were passing by the area), mid length blond locks whizzed by me and a man socked the guy attempting to apprehend me in the face. It caused the guy's grip to loosen and I fell to the floor on my bum. Annoyed, I looked up and saw the blond man obliterate the other man's face with swift hooks. I grumbled, thinking I could have saved myself the trouble and kicked the dweeb's ass- he seemed weak now that I watched the blond easily beat him stupid. If some pretty boy could do it, so could I.

I blinked and hissed when I realized I fell in a puddle and was now sopping wet as the assailant crashed against the asphalt floor.

"Hey…" The blond called out gently. He kneeled a bit and held out a hand to help me up. I observed it and noticed just how rough and callused it looked. When I took mine into it, I could feel just how rough and callused it was. This man must have been training and fighting for quite some time. I let out a soft sigh as I gripped the handle of my duffel bag and picked it up off the floor. I then faced the man and quirked a brow as I realized he kept examining me, maybe for injuries. I finally recognized him from his blond hair and brown bomber jacket. This was the well-talked about Terry Bogard. No wonder he tore that man apart… I felt dizzy, trying to focus on his face, but everything already began swirling. I stumbled back and forth trying to keep balance.

Then came the moment that changed my life forever.

Nothing would ever be the same after this.

Terry's mouth moved, forming words. "Are you Okay?!" His accent was a heavy Brooklyn like one…the words almost sounding comical… I winced. I was able to immediately discern one thing…

I hated his voice.

But of course, I couldn't revel in this long, as my eyes rolled back and everything went black…

Or so I thought I couldn't revel it in long…

"Are…" Terry's face popped up in the darkness and disappeared.

"You…" His face did it again…

"Okay…?!" once more…

And then he appeared completely, numerous Terry's running about the darkness of my conscious. "Are you Okay?!" It echoed in a rhythmic manner. It reverberated in my mind painfully slowly. Echoed.

Echoed.

Echoed…

My eyes snapped open and from where I lay, I scanned the area. I was on the floor with some towels underneath me, in an unfamiliar apartment. I finally turned to face up and I met the azure irises of the perpetrator who invaded my conscious.

The man's voice was terrible enough to induce chilling nightmares.

"Hey, are you okay?!" Terry asked as he examined my face.

I winced in pain as the annoying voice, and now ever so annoying catch phrase invaded my ears.

His voice was enough to produce the sensation of physical pain. I'd have much rather had the wind knocked out of me with a painful punch than to hear it again. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine." I dismissed, sitting up and grumbling. "The weather got to me. So please…Stop. Asking." I emphasized so he would get the point.

"Alright, if you say so." Terry said, standing up. He looked at me for a moment, then finally questioned. "So kid, what's your name?"

I blinked a few times, then tucked some strands of my now shortened sable hair behind an ear. "It's Samantha. Samantha Walker."

Terry held out a hand to shake. "Nice to learn your name. It's-"

"Terry Bogard." I cut him off. "You got some pretty high rep in the streets."

Terry let out a laugh. "Familiar with the streets?"

I curved my lips into a smirk. "You could say that."

Terry's face morphed into an expression that seemed as if he remembered something. "Oh yeah, I could only find a shirt of my kid's long enough to cover you up. I know any of the pants or shorts I have would fall off, along with my shirts. You're pretty petite. The weather's really bad out now, so I don't recommended leaving. Also, if you stay in your wet clothes, you might catch a cold." he held a t-shirt within his grasp.

I gave him a dull stare. "It's fine, I have.." I looked towards my duffel bag and it was wide open, the contents soaking wet. That's right… when I was shoved out of my place, I never did get to closing my bag. Shiiit. I ripped the shirt out of hand and marched around, looking for a bathroom.

"My, my… violent, aren't we?" Terry chuckled lightly.

"You haven't seen violent yet…" I mused darkly as I slammed the door of the finally discovered bathroom.

After peeling off the wet garments and putting on the long red t-shirt (that thankfully reached up to mid thigh), I walked back outside to the living area. It was pretty simple. Dark brown couches with a red and brown rug on the floor. The television was an old school box one- maybe about 32" sitting on a dark brown entertainment set. The news was on, and it was talking about how the crime rate had dropped within the years. Uninterested in what the reporters were droning on about, I plopped myself on the couch and looked at what Terry was doing in the kitchen, which was a small ways away from the living area. Seemed that he was making some instant soup in the kitchen. He had a bag of some food from the burger joint sitting on the dining table, so I presumed it was for myself. No longer amused by watching him, I sprawled out on the couch and watched the images on the TV flicker by, not paying attention to any words in particular. After a while of sitting in a vegetated state, the front door crashed open and there was a thud, startling me and causing me to bolt upright.

"Oh God, Rookie, ARE YOU OKAY?!" Terry yelled. Quite loudly may I add.

I twitched, feeling a vein on my forehead throb. I rubbed my temples to calm my nerves.

The voice began echoing in my head again.

It was the damn third time he said that today. In the same annoying manner too.

It was then that I decided that the world should be done a favor.

That I would become a girl on a mission.

It was decided that the annoying voice should be purged… and that Terry Bogard must die.

End Prologue: A Girl On a Mission.

Now that that's over with, I start the actual story! Everything will immediately be dove into. As you probably noticed with the "are you okay?!", I'm going to play a lot with Terry's catch phrases, placing them in the most interesting places and interesting situations. Note that this story is in jest, but there will also be some serious moments- gotta have my balance. Well... a lot of serious moments. Whoops.

I'm sure it will be an interesting read. To those who do choose to continue to read this throughout the period of time I write it, hope you enjoy!