Disclaimer: Street Fighter is owned by Capcom, this is a fan work.

Also, I'd like to give a shout-out/thanks to Somniyo for letting me use her OC Miya Tuonela.

Chap. 1: It was a fairly nice day in Philadelphia, save for a few clouds. Charlie Nash walked out of his apartment and started up his car. It had been a year since the Shadaloo incident, and everyone was on leave.

"Alright, let's see. I'll go down to Reading Terminal, get some lunch and then head down to South Street."

He drove down to the parking garage, and headed over to his favorite restaurant.

"Hey, it's Charlie!" spoke a middle aged guy wiping down a counter.

"Hey Bill, can I get my usual?"

"Sure thing, so how you been doing, we haven't seen you down here in a few years"

"Ah, I got called up for duty, just came back for some R&R." He didn't feel like saying he and his team killed a dictator, disbanded a terrorist organization, and arrest 3 of the world's most dangerous criminals.

"Sounds good, here's your order, A bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke."

"Thanks."

After eating, he drove out of the garage and headed for South Street, looking to head to the comic shop.

"Alright, this seems like a good place to park." He pulled the black Corvette into a space across from 3rd Street. He walked over to the comic shop, putting his hand on the handle before hearing… "HEY LOOK OUT!"

"What the"

A young woman roller skating crashed into him, she had purple hair, tanned skin and a curvaceous frame, sporting a black tank top and jean shorts.

"Oww, sorry about that I was…" She stopped and looked at the guy who stood up and had his hand held out, asking to help her up. "Hey, are you ok? I'm Charlie Nash."

"Oh, I'm fine thanks. I'm Miya, Miya Tuonela."

She blushed slightly. "Sorry, I was going too fast."

"It's fine, no harm done. Listen, if you're not too busy, I was going to hang out down here for a bit, would you care to join me?" he spoke whilst smiling.

"Thanks, but I gotta jet, maybe some other time. Here's my number, bye!"

She handed him a slip of paper, and skated off.

"That was a rather…odd way of meeting someone." He said to himself as he brushed him self off.

"Ah well, time to head up to the comic shop, hopefully everyone's still there."

He walked up to the counter, asking for the manager.

"He's in the back; I don't think he'll have a problem with you being there."

"Thanks."

Charlie walked into the counter seeing a man who looked to be in his early 30's lifting boxes. (Charlie's 26 in this story)

"Hey, you need some help with that?" He asked smirking.

The man set his box down and turned to face the guy who just walked into the storeroom.

"Well, I'll be damned, if it isn't Charlie Nash!"

He extended his hand and Charlie returned the gesture, grabbing a seat on an empty chair next to the door.

"Hey Chris, how's the shop?" he asked him.

"Doing pretty good for now, it's been about what, 5 years since you've been gone?" Chris spoke up as he grabbed a soda from the fridge.

"Yeah, I finished my tour, and decided to come back home. But, I came down here to ask you if you guys are hiring."

"Yeah, we're looking for someone to do cashier, stock the shelves, and just look after the shop." He said before taking a sip. "Did the military skimp you on your pay or something?"

"Nope…" Charlie started. "…I just really hate sitting around doing nothing, I figure a job would be better than just lazing around, you know?"

"Well, welcome to the team." He said standing up.

"Thanks, man." He shook his hand and headed for the door.

"Oh, be here tomorrow at 11 so I can introduce you to everyone, and get you briefed on what goes on."

"Sure, I'll see you tomorrow." Charlie said walking out of the room.

He walked out of the comic shop, it was about 4 pm. It was his second day back home, and he already had a job, a flow of income from military service, and a possible friend in one Miya Tuonela. Today had been a good day, and now he'd go home and change.

Tonight, was the big showcase at the Trocadero. Metal bands, punk, hard rock, hip hop, all of his favorite types of music were going to be played that night. Today was a great day, except for one problem.

"Oh what the hell?" he exclaimed.

Upon his new car, laid a parking violation for being…3 minutes under the parking meter?

He read the ticket, displaying that the shut off time was 4:25. The time printed on the ticket he had received was 4:22.

He thought to himself, "the concert starts at 8; I can hammer this out at the parking authority before they close at 6, and still get to change. He hopped into the car and drove down to Arch Street.

He parked the car and walked out, it was 4:40 and he saw someone standing behind the desk with no line. He walked in and stood before the desk.

"Hi, I'm here because of this parking ticket. It says I was over my time limit, but I was out at my car at 4:22." He said calmly setting the ticket on the counter. "It wasn't supposed to run out until 4:25." He continued.

"Well, the machines have glitches and the PPA officers are required to write the ticket if there's a violation." The scrawny looking guy said as he continued to read a newspaper.

"But the violation didn't happen; I was issued a fine for a meter that still had 3 minutes on it." Charlie stated. He was getting annoyed; this guy hadn't even looked up at him and was giving him an attitude. "Why don't you just come back tomorrow?" The guy said making a shoo motion with his hand.

Oh that did it.

Charlie quickly snatched the paper away and gripped the guy's collar bringing him to eye level. The guy was terrified; he had no clue of who he was talking to and realized he could have changed his tone.

"Look." Charlie started, giving the guy a cold stare. "I was having a really good day, and I would hate for it to be ruined by some pencil neck that won't take care of a fault that the department made. Now, you can void this ticket, or we're going to have to get you a good plastic surgeon. Got me?" He said in a low voice, never dropping his tone.

"Um, no p-problem, I can take care of that for you in a matter of seconds." The clerk said visibly trembling and scared for his life.

He entered the ticket number and deemed it void.

"T-there you are sir, you have a good day." He spoke trying his best to keep his composure.

"Good, let's keep this between us." Charlie said as he walked out of the door.

The clerk sat at his desk, still frozen in fear as the jumbled pages of his newspaper sat on the counter.

It was about 5:50 when Charlie got back to his apartment. He walked out of the bathroom in a black polo, jeans, and black shoes. He looked in the mirror next to the door as he wiped off his glasses.

"What the hell is going on?" he thought to himself. "There's no reason as to why I got so rough with that guy." He walked out to his car, and decided to grab a bite at the Vietnamese place across from the Troc. He drove down from his apartment in Old City and parked on 11th street. Charlie walked down to the restaurant "Pho Cali", and sat at the table.

"Hi, here's your menu, I'll be back in a moment." The waitress said with a smile.

"Thanks." He said looking over it.

"Have you decided?" the waitress asked walking back holding a notepad.

"Uhm, I'll have the number 2 and a Coke." He said handing her the menu.

"Ok, it'll ready in a few."

Meanwhile…

"Have you located him?" asked a man with bluish skin dressed in business attire.

"Yes sir, we've tracked him to Philadelphia. Should I send out a drone?"

"No, I have a…better idea." He picked up a phone and pressed a button.

"Viper, I have a job for you. Bring me Charlie Nash, alive."

"Understood." A female voice said from the other side of the phone.

He hung up and stared at the large computer monitor in front of him.

"There'll be no one to stop us now."

Well, that's the first chapter. It's a little short, but I didn't want to make it too long.