Author's Note: The following story disregards Udon's Street Fighter comic book series, which deviates from the canon of the games. Timeline-wise, this story takes place prior to Street Fighter Alpha/Zero 3. Some events have been modified to fit this story.
A blue flame flickers in the darkness, casting shadowy figures across the face of the world. The flame is surrounded by a slew of jagged emotion. Anger and hatred serve as it's kindling, and as they grow in abundance, the flame grows in size and ferocity. It expands and soon everything around it catches fire. The flame's arms dance wildly, gliding through forests, leaving the landscapes burning infernos. Rivers flow with running fire. Towns and cities are incinerated, and it's citizens unable to quench the blaze, are scorched as well. The horrifying screams of millions fill earth's skies, as the whole world is engulfed in the undying, cold violet flame.
Above the burning world, the golden skull spreads its wings and hovers, surveying the carnage below.
She stood before the building. She stood before it with an uneasy anticipation, knowing she was at the crossroad in which many of the branching paths ended in darkness. A darkness that threatened to engulf the world.
An uncomfortable stillness loomed heavily in the shadow of the warehouse. The aura emanating from within seemed to act like an unstable magnet, attracting and repelling her both at once. It spoke to her, whispering in her ear. I am here. Seek me out. Let us resolve this.
A cold bitter wind blew, swaying her long violet hair, and Rose adjusted the golden scarf on her shoulders. She entered the decrepit building, committing herself to the dangers of doing so.
The warehouse had clearly not seen use in many years. Dim moonlight shone through the broken windows, and through the gaps in the rotting ceiling, illuminating the rusted metal columns which cast long shadows along the weathered floor. The cracked walls were plastered with colorful, but faded graffiti. There were several wooden crates and empty metal oil drums- some upright and others on their side- scattered throughout. The ground was littered with dried leaves and glass. Rose was sure to avoid them as she made herself towards the center of the warehouse, her high heels clicking on the concrete.
The dark aura continued pulsing in strong waves. This encounter was long overdue. And he knew it as well.
She stopped beside a fallen, rusted metal ceiling panel. She stood there, hands at her sides, closed her eyes and mentally grasped at the surrounding area, feeling her way through the heavy intangible tendrils of black energy, directing her mind's eye to it's epicenter. And then she waited. Another harsh wind blew, rattling the deteriorating structure and rustling the cracking leaves on the floor.
"You've come." The low, chilling voice echoed from somewhere above her. "Who would have expected that a mere fortune-teller could pose a threat, however small, to me."
Rose opened her eyes. "Our meeting was destined. You know why I am here."
Heavy footsteps against metal sounded, as the man stepped from the shadows on an elevated walkway before her. His black cape trailed behind him as he walked, until he stopped, standing behind the guardrail. She gazed up at the large, imposing figure, her spirit strong and unwavering. Large reflective metal plates added to the width of his already broad shoulders. He wore metal plated shin-guards above his black boots and bands of metal covering his wrists and forearms. The color of his military uniform was the same as the blood-saturated waters of a dark future. A service cap of matching color rested on his head. On it was the dreaded golden skull with wings; an insignia which was becoming known to the governments of the world. She looked into the pupil-less eyes of Shadaloo's leader, knowing that the man was to bring about unspeakable pain to the world. She looked at M. Bison, her enemy, for the first time.
He returned her gaze with an amused look. "I care little for the motivations that brought you to me. The fact is you are here, standing before me willingly and that saves me the trouble of hunting you down."
"I've come to divert the course of a dark future from which there will be no return. I've come to ask you to surrender and disband you organization."
Bison let out a bellow of laughter at the sound of her words, his cackling bouncing from the walls of the warehouse. Rose watched, expression unchanged, waiting for the man to end his laughing fit. Bison grinned, flashing his teeth. "Do you know what became of the last woman who displayed such bold stupidity in my presence? She now spends her days following my every command without question. She will grovel at my feet if I order it."
Rose suppressed a cringe. Of the many evils the organization had inflicted on the lives of the innocent, was the horror of stripping away someone's humanity and replacing it with a cold, detached impulse for obedience. Her past encounters with such victims brought up unrivaled revulsion within her. "How many children's minds have you mangled? How many lives have your vile experiments destroyed?" She said, her words laced with disgust.
"Apparently not enough," he replied indifferently. "One of my soldiers has been showing inconvenient behavior after coming into contact with you. Your continued interference in our operations has shown that the Doll Project and some of it's subjects have flaws that need attending to. I have the means to achieve my desires and I will see them done and if it is to cost more lives to attend to those flaws. . ." Bison raised his chin in a display of nauseating pride. "then so be it."
Rose hardened her stare at the man responsible for those atrocities, recalling the dark unnatural influence festering in the young girl's mind. To contest the gloomy thought, she forced herself to feel the indispensable spark of hope that she was capable of counteracting it's effects; the feeling that her capabilities were ultimately the only one's to be able to counteract his.
"That look in your eye," said Bison, "I've seen it many times before. Many have come into opposition with Shadaloo. Politicians, soldiers, even armies. The type of people who believe to be in control. The type of people who believe they have power. Their pathetic attempts to stifle Shadaloo's progress have revealed to them the truth. They are nothing to me. Their actions yield nothing but failure for them, and I remain superior. The number of fighters that have fallen before my might exceeds what I can remember. Even you are a minor inconvenience, a buzzing insect in need of swatting. In time you will be forgotten as well." His sneer was wider than ever. "Now, do you understand the power I hold?"
"The power you hold is tainted."
Slowly, Bison's proud smirk dissolved from his face. He made no reply.
"You've corrupted it," said Rose. "You've abused this gift, turning it into something that it was never meant to be. You've chosen the wrong path."
He stood silently looking at her with a strange curiosity. The subtle change in the expression on his face gave Rose the impression that he was looking beyond her as if her words compelled him to recall an old memory. After a few eerie seconds his laughter broke the silence. "Something it was never meant to be? Foolish woman, it was always meant to be surpassed. I have undone the shackles. No longer is it bound it to it's pitiful state of weakness." He spoke in a voice, loud and triumphant. "I brought the power to full fruition. Hatred, anger, rage; these are the keys to unlocking it's true potential."
"You know nothing of true power," said Rose.
"Psycho Power is true power. It has no equal." He paused. He lowered his head, his cap casting an ominous shadow on his face. "Though, it did not manifest out of nothing. Which brings me to the reason why your very existence annoys me. Tell me Rose, how did you acquire Soul Power?"
Despite herself, Rose tensed.
Part of her was reluctant to engage him in a conversation that had the potential to put her at a disadvantage, however she could not shake the uncanny feeling of solidarity with another being who shared the same gift. There was a possibility to acquire answers to uncertainties that had plagued her for as long as she could remember, but the reality of the situation required her to lead with certainty. The distraction could cost more than what it was worth.
"You had a teacher, didn't you?," he said in a dark tone. "Give me a name."
She widened her stance, adjusted the sash on her shoulders in a swift motion and raised her arms in front of her in a relaxed, but domineering manner. Rose was very much aware that she might very well be sacrificing the only chance she ever really had at finally understanding, but the safety of the future would have to take priority over her curiosities. I will not allow myself to be distracted from the task at hand. Words will not be of use here. She prepared herself to do what she knew she would have to from the very beginning. "Shadaloo will fall," she said. "One way or another."
"Heh, you really are a fool." Bison adjusted his cap. "You will tell me what I need to know and then I'll have you begging for death." His eyes glowed in a violent purple light as his feet hovered from the floor. "Psycho Power surpasses Soul Power in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine. So I'll permit you to experience it firsthand." For a split second his body flashed brightly before vanishing completely.
However fast Bison's change of position from the elevated walkway in front of Rose to directly behind her -in this case instantaneous- Rose was able to defend. Bison's glowing fist collided with Rose's Soul Power imbued shawl in a squeal of energy before it could find it's target.
Bison's grinned a belittling grin that seemed to say, bravo. Rose glared back with an expression that said, do not take me lightly.
Rose permeated her whole scarf in a glimmering teal light, briefly recalling the moment in which she was first taught the intricacies of manipulating objects with Soul Power. She pushed away Bison's fist and lashed out with her scarf with a hum of energy. Bison parried it with his forearm in a decisive stroke. She retracted her scarf, directing it around her body in a sweeping motion and back towards Bison at a different angle, but hit nothing but empty air. Bison's body had once again dematerialized in a flash of blue light.
Ever since Rose locked on to his aura, she had remained vigilant to it's fluctuations, consciously aware of even the smallest pressures exerted on it. Transferring one's body from one place to another with no time in between was only one of the many abilities Psycho Power allowed Bison to do. She did not know the full extent of this corrupted power, so it was crucial that she have as much foresight available to her as possible in order to adapt accordingly. She had to remain attentive. She could not let herself to loosen her mental hold on such chaotic abilities.
He reappeared instantly farther away, swinging a Psycho Powered imbued arm and producing a packed sphere of crackling energy speeding towards Rose.
Rose sidestepped it just in time, feeling the immense heat as it flew past her cheek. It collided into a metal beam with a sizzling crash. Without bothering to look up to see the second sphere of energy she knew was rushing towards her, Rose brandished her scarf and in one fluid motion encircled the sphere within the cloth, flowing with it's trajectory, and absorbing it's energy until the orb dissipated into the scarf. In the same continuing motion, Rose brought her scarf in a wide arc to intercept the third deadly projectile. The glowing cloth rippled as it deflected the orb, sending it back to it's master, but Bison was no longer there to receive it. The psycho shot swerved and crashed into a column and the sound of screeching metal filled the area. A large part of the elevated walkway crashed to the ground where Bison was a second before.
Though Rose had not sensed Psycho Power channeled in a way that would have allowed for teleportation, there was a short moment in which Bison's sudden disappearance caused her to assume that he had. In her misapprehension, she prepared to defend from an attack that did not come from where she would have expected it to. It was that mere half a second of misdirected attention, that had put her at a disadvantage. It was almost too late when Rose saw him twenty feet above, plummeting feet first directly towards her at a frightening speed, his black cape whipping wildly behind him. With barely enough time to avoid getting her skull crushed, she concentrated as much energy she could into her scarf and raised it into a position with enough surface area to shield herself.
The sound of the impact echoed through the room, rattling the debris and dust on the ground around them. Rose gritted her teeth as she felt Bison's full weight and momentum fall down on her shawl. A voice surfaced from the recesses of her memory; the voice of a faceless master, harbored in the broken memories of an uncertain past: The eye is prone to deception. She cursed herself for making such a careless mistake.
Her knees buckled underneath the massive force. Bison stood straight, arms crossed in a nonchalant manner, before vaulting back off her scarf, twisting his bulky body in the air and coming down on Rose's defenses a second time, leading with the force of Psycho Powered hands instead of the force of his boots.
Rose's scarf collapsed underneath the might of the second strike, it's glow gone in an instant like a light bulb being smashed, allowing Bison's attack to connect with her shoulder. She let out a loud cry of pain as a stabbing fiery sensation spread from the point of impact to her upper arm and chest. Her legs gave in and she fell to her knees, bringing a hand to her injured shoulder feeling as if it had been set aflame.
"Perhaps now you have an inkling of understanding," said Bison. "Or do you still believe you can defeat me?"
Breathing through clenched teeth, Rose looked up to see Bison standing before her having abandoned his fighting stance, his hands interlaced behind his back, relaxed. The pain in her shoulder was scorching.
"Attacks fueled by Soul Power merely numb the points of impact after an initial shock." He spoke as if addressing a student. "Attacks fueled by Psycho Power, on the other hand, have the ability to amplify the capacity to feel pain and over-saturate the nervous system with enough to surpass that threshold even further. Death would be a godsend. Tell me who your master was and I may spare you the torment in exchange for the blessing."
Rose grimaced, barely hearing his words. Damn it! Get up! She grasped her shoulder tightly, willing for the pain to dissipate, and surprisingly, as if her wishes could affect reality, the fire began to subside leaving only the dull but manageable pain of the physical blow. She knew then, that any other individual would have experienced that excruciating agony for far longer than she had. She knew then for certain, Soul Power had the ability to disrupt the effects of Psycho Power. I am the only one that can stand up to him.
Rose stared at him defiantly. The eye is prone to deception, the voice echoed in her memory once again, this time suggesting a course of action rather than caution, an application to her enemy rather than herself. She focused her power inward. "You are not as strong as you believe to be."
Bison frowned. He shot a large hand towards her neck.
Before Bison could reach her, Rose's body flickered, producing two identical, ethereal images of herself flickering on either side, then another splitting from each of those. The moment Bison's grasping fingers came into contact with Rose's body, it vanished in a palpitating glimmer. The remaining four indistinguishable figures went from translucent to opaque and began to rise from their kneeling position in a semicircle around Bison. Rose was now positioned farthest left, at Bison's right flank, having exchanged places with her spectral doppelganger using a technique paralleling Bison's teleportation: the Soul Illusion.
Rose's advance was quick, taking advantage of Bison's initial confusion knowing it would not take him long to acknowledge the liability of his eyes and to truly see her illusion for what it was. "You are but a misguided fool, Bison." Rose's voice rang from four different directions.
"You wriggling worm! Before me, anything Soul Power can contrive amounts to nothing but parlor tricks." Rose could feel the touch of Bison's mind scanning for her among the apparitions. "There you are!"
As soon as he turned to face her, an energized palm slammed into his chin. With a twirl she shot out her scarf, directing it to his temple. The blow staggered him back a few feet. The surrounding apparitions converged into her and without losing momentum, Rose spun with a flourish, unraveled her scarf and released a sparkling green ball of energy from it's fibers speeding towards Bison. "Soul Spark."
Bison recovered in time and with a powerful outward swing of his arm, smashed the approaching projectile. A look of anger flashed across his face. "Soul Power cannot harm me!"
He disappeared and reappeared within arms reach, attacking with a tenacity and speed that immediately forced Rose to focus her full attention on avoiding or deflecting his relentless advance. She backed away, all the while weaving between hot, glowing fists, remaining light on her feet. She ducked underneath a roundhouse, and parried an incoming punch with the edge of her hand, the energies screeching as they canceled each other out. She danced around several empty oil drums, while Bison sent them scattering noisily across the floor. She blocked another charging punch with her pulsating scarf in a hiss of energy, and contorted her body to avoid an axe kick that crumbled the concrete underneath. Streaming lights of purple and blue bounced around the warehouse, the rustle of cloth and crackle of energy echoing against it's graffitied walls.
Rose kept a constant read on the energy being emitted, anticipating Bison's attacks before they happened, but unable to start an offense of her own. Becoming overwhelmed, she soon found herself unable to fuel her defenses properly and fully powered attacks crashed down on her imperfect parries. Her breathing became extensively labored, every direct blow she defended against jarring her entire body. Bison flipped his body, bringing his legs behind him and over in blinding speed to deliver two consecutive kicks on Rose's shawl, barely protecting her from their full force, and sending her skidding on her heels, until her back slammed against the brick wall.
Bison continued to ram against her defenses. Even the smallest graze of Psycho Power was agony. Her soul was strong and she willed the lingering effects away, but she knew that her situation was growing dire at a frightening rate. I cannot keep this up. The longer she remained on the defensive side of the exchange, the more certain the world's bleak future seemed.
After taking the brunt of another kick with her upper arm, she directed her scarf to the ground to support her weight, not unlike a walking stick, and pushed away at an angle away from the wall. Once she had gained some distance between Bison and herself and before he could persist in his offense, she focused energy into her palms with a mental fortitude honed by years of training. A spark ignited in each of her hands, quickly forming into spheres of swirling energy. With a flourish she cast them into the air and they began to circle her body in a protective fashion, their ethereal aura producing dancing shadows across the warehouse. Now with the benefit of being able to attack and defend simultaneously, Rose pushed forward.
Bison, unwilling to letdown, walked towards her with pulsating fists. "Nothing but parlor tricks," he spat. Rose shot out her scarf, which Bison deftly avoided. One of the orbs orbited around her shoulder speeding towards him, but Bison was ready for it. "Weak!" With a massive Psycho Powered blow, he shattered the orb into tiny shards of dying light.
Rose saw her opportunity to do some damage, and took it. "Power born of hatred will be your undoing." She grabbed his overextended arm, pulling him close, as the remaining orb swung from behind her hip and exploded into his midsection. His body lurched and Rose brought her scarf up and around, striking him in the jaw, before twirling it around her and shooting a brighter and larger sphere of green energy to his chest. "Aura Soul Spark!" The projectile detonated upon impact in a blinding sparkle of light, sending her foe's body flying across the full length of the warehouse, splintering a stack of wooden crates at the other end.
Rose stood, breathing heavily, on unsteady legs. She held the end of her scarf in a tired grip while the other end bunched onto the floor. A trickle of blood dripped from her brow past the side of her eye from a wound she didn't remember receiving. Between defending from Bison's rush down, and exertion used for her counter strategy, she was nearing both mental and physical exhaustion. The fact that Psycho Power still permeated the atmosphere like thick smoke seemed to weigh down on her even more. She knew that this adversary would be like no other she had ever faced before, but she did not expect her best efforts to feel so inconsequential. I don't understand. His rage and anger should not have become so untethered as to produce unending tenacity. How can power be sustained in this way?
Then, before she could even register the sudden angry explosion of energy, Bison appeared before her in a violet flash of light. Rose moved to parry the incoming attack, but was too slow. She let out a harsh gasp, as a sharp, devastating fist struck her abdomen. The resulting unearthly pain spread to every area of her body in fiery electric waves. How? She doubled over in pure agony, dropping her shawl. A hot powerful hand latched around her neck, raised her back up and slammed her onto the floor.
Rose writhed, struggling to pry the tightening fingers from her neck. Psycho Power surged through her body. "Give me a name." Bison growled. His cap had been knocked off in her attack. His black hair was disheveled. His frayed cape hung unevenly from the clasp on his left shoulder. His body steamed with the dark aura of Psycho Power. "Are there others?" Her enemy's eyes were saturated with hate and rage.
How is it possible? In that terrible moment, unable even to scream, she felt utterly lost. It was as if hope, along with her physical capacity, was being drained away. Then in an inexplicable sense of morbid curiosity, she looked deeper into his eyes, exploring his being. Without a second thought she found herself traversing his soul hoping to discover a weakness, anything that would allow her to escape her predicament.
What she saw frightened her.
The man was built on rage. It was his whole being. Not a trace of empathy or compassion. She searched and searched in vain for the precious vessel that harbored all human emotion that even the most hardened individuals possessed however well sealed or however deep within the recesses of their souls, but could not find it. She could not detect a trace of it anywhere. There was only darkness, hatred and more darkness. The soul was corrupted beyond imagination. Is this man even human?
If she did not know it before, she knew it then. Failure was not an option. It was unthinkable.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rose caught a glimpse something golden. She stretched her arm, reaching desperately for her weapon, trying her best to tolerate the intolerable waves of pain coursing through her body. She reached and her fingertips lightly brushed the cloth; It was all she needed. The shawl fluttered to life and wrapped itself around Bison's arm. Soul Power spread from Rose's arm, through her scarf and into Bison's body in continuous cackling bursts. His grip loosened enough allowing her pry his hand off of her.
Bison cursed as he backed away from her, emitting a strong wave of energy from his arm, unraveling the scarf from it.
Rose stumbled to her feet, scarf in hand, massaging her neck, still trying to come to terms of what she had just seen within him, or rather what she had not seen. With a soul as dark as his there was no wonder why Psycho Power could persist and persist and destroy in such frightening scales. Rose shuttered at the thought of what could be achieved at the highest degree with such a ready and vast pool of hatred and rage. Nausea threatened to overcome her. "W-What are you?"
Bison's face scrunched up in a mixture of annoyance and anger. He unclasped his cape letting it crumple to the floor and gripped his right wrist as he flexed his right hand, igniting it in a flickering, bluish purple flame. "I am your demise," he growled. The flame spread from his hand to his forearm, to his shoulder and to his chest until the whole of his body was engulfed in the deadly fire. He pushed off his legs, propelling himself forwards. His body flew parallel to the ground rotating in a blinding violet light, leading with an outstretched arm, his open palm directed towards Rose. "Psycho Crusher!"
I will not fail! Casting aside her anguish, Rose mustered all her remaining strength, swinging her glowing scarf, spiraling it around her arm and lunged forward to meet his attack. "I will not allow your plans to come to fruition! You will not destroy me!" She drilled her scarf-covered fist into Bison's rotating palm. "Soul Spiral!"
Their attacks collided in a thunderous boom, sending whatever was not bolted to the ground around them, whirling into the air. Her scarf and hair fluttered wildly in the whirlwind of energy created by the impact. The concrete beneath them fractured. The screech of energy was high-pitched and deafening. Rose's scarf continued to spiral against Bison's spinning hand, thick streams of free-flowing energy spitting out from the point in which their hands met. Their bodies seemed to be frozen in place, neither giving any ground.
Then, Rose's vision began to blur. She shut her eyes tightly, searching for some hidden reserves of energy, unwilling to acknowledge her limits. When she reopened her eyes what she saw caused her breath to catch in her throat.
She was staring at her own face, contorted with a fierce animosity that she never imagined being capable of, glaring back at her with hot glowing eyes that were not her own. It was as if looking into a mirror that had it's surface chipped and cracked to the point that the image reflected would be an extreme distortion. Yet, the face she saw in front of her was real. When the face's lips curled back letting out a snarl, she felt herself mimic the action.
She blinked in disbelief and found that the face that bore her features had vanished. Bison's enraged face was where it was a moment ago; inches away from her own with a ferocity that illuminated his intent to kill her. Rose tried her best to regain her mental composure, but her ability to focus was dwindling. A white haze began to creep into the edges of her vision. Her mind felt as if it was drowning in a thick liquid.
What's happening? The white haze intruded even more, shrouding her eyesight.
Suddenly Rose's entire body lost all perception of physical sensation. Then, through the numbness of her senses, she felt a great pain, though It wasn't the fiery pain brought upon by Psycho Power. It was like nothing she had never known before. She screamed as she felt her very soul warp and distort in excruciating agony. She was dimly aware of Bison's roars, above her own hoarse yells.
The white haze obscured her vision completely, and all sounds- the yells and cackle of energy- began to muffle, until nothing could be heard at all. Then the soul wrenching pain stopped as soon as it had come.
Rose was floating in nothingness. Unable to resist, she let herself be drawn to the darkest corners of the vacant space. There was nothing but silence and the eerie feeling that accompanied the dissolution of consciousness into the deepening void. And then no feeling at all.
His light, rapid footsteps hardly produced sound. The contact between his sneakers and the rooftop was fleeting, a continuous force and swiftness that drove him forward at a speed worthy of the title of Bushin master. As the bearer of the title, Guy was bound to certain duties.
He had initially been drawn to the city by the talk of a renowned local fortune teller said to have quarreled with Shadaloo on several occasions. Gathering any real kind of information on the criminal organization was harder than Guy would have guessed. The few times where he stood to gain concrete details, rather than mere hearsay, he was met with trembling faces unwilling to speak out against a group that had the reputation of making people disappear. Though he did not take much stock in soothsaying, any information provided by someone who had come into contact with Shadaloo agents would prove to be invaluable to his mission. The rumor that this woman was conducting her own investigation regarding the head of Shadaloo, made him want to meet with her even more.
He leapt to another building.
The city of Genoa seemed a pleasant enough place. Of course, it did not take much for any city to seem pleasant to one who had spent considerable time in the crime-ridden streets of Metro City. Guy could have almost allowed himself to appreciate the smell of the salty harbor and the pattern of near and faraway lights that illuminated the city in the late hours of the night, were it not for the sudden surge of dark power palpating against every inch of his being. It was distant, but prominent, disturbing the very air of the city to those with the appropriate sensitivities.
The sudden explosive presence had to take precedence over his plans to seek out the famed fortune teller of Genoa. The impact it had on him was too much to ignore. It was different in many ways than any other form of ki Guy had ever felt before. It felt. . . distorted. . . vile. And if one thing was consistent about the rumors surrounding the leader of Shadaloo, it was that he was in possession of a dark unnatural power capable of terrible feats.
The cold wind blew against his face. Rain clouds had begun to form in the horizon, heavy gray masses in the night sky, their edges illuminated by the moonlight. He leapt between buildings, continuing his venture without misstep.
