Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible or any of the Street Fighter characters. I do however own a blue boa constrictor named Rufie. She's several feet long and has a crush on Rufus. Can't really blame her, everyone loves naked molerats. And I say no to new viruses. You should too. Yay.

Summery: Ten years after she left her life behind, the shell of a heroine shall learn that her tale is not yet over. Kim Possible/ Streetfighter

Tales of Lost Love:

"When everything changes sometimes the only thing left to do is fight."

Chapter One: Fight!

"I welcome you to my home as the spider welcomes the fly. Come and listen to the tangled web I weave, for this story concerns you most of all. This tale is tragic and yet true. The embellishments are few if any. Preservation of history is a cruel task, but allowing for small errors, what I tell you may come in handy. You never know. The past is foundation for what we see. Let this cleanse your mind. For what I tell you is a tale of love lost.

There was once a time long ago, lovers who once could have been together fighting foes no other could touch. They fought long, they fought hard, but in the end she lost. I will tell you of that day.

The wind blew not at all. No rain could be seen, Nature's portents of that to come, mysteriously absent. Nothing could warn the young heroine, as she stood waiting. This was a day she dreaded. She and her faithful friend were about to part. She couldn't have that. For reasons both selfish and pure. She loved him, as no other could. His little quirks both infuriated and calmed her. The few times in her life when she'd be without him, since their meeting in pre-k, seemed empty. She'd once thought otherwise, now she knew the truth. She'd said it to him once. At the time, neither had understood the implications. She knew he was clueless, doubted if he even remembered what happened. She hadn't at first, but the nightmares changed that. She'd seen visions of a horrible future, one where they'd been separate and they'd lost. They'd changed that thanks to him. As the nightmares continued she'd remembered how she felt when he was gone, the aching, the pain. Finally she realized why it hurt.

Now she was going to do something she'd never had the courage to. She was going to tell him. She was waiting outside of their old high school. She'd wanted to tell him for so long. She'd thought graduation would be perfect, but she'd failed. Now she only had this day. It wasn't much, but she'd do it and he'd feel the same way. He had to, she couldn't tell what she'd do if he didn't. She'd lose him if he didn't and yet if she kept her silence she'd never really have him. He'd only be on loan, until he found another. Then that girl would be his love, and he'd forget. Somehow that seemed worse than any other fate she could think of. She may have been overreacting, but who could tell her? After all love makes us do the wacky.

She stood waiting and it did not go unappreciated. A car pulled in front of the school. She recognized it, but it shouldn't have been there. It belonged to another girl. Another cheerleader, one the young heroine despised. For a while she'd had every reason, but that had changed suddenly. Every drop of hatred had one day vanished from the other girl's person, replaced instead by an intense sadness. Even the heroine had noticed. Befitting one of her class, the heroine did not gloat or posture. She'd tried to help, of that no one could argue, but she'd never gotten past the other cheerleader's defenses. The boy had. And the heroine had gotten used to seeing him and the other cheerleader. In time the two girls managed to tolerate each other's presence, slowly liking each other. They still weren't friends, but they had stopped fighting, much to the young man's delight. Still, today was about her and him, so why was She there?

The young heroine watched them exit the car, the other girl stayed back, leaning on the car, but the boy came to her. They walked off, leaving the heroine's former adversary. I'm sure you can guess what came next.

They walked slowly through the old school corridors, talking about the old days, talking about everything except that which they came. Finally they left. When they exited, the other girl was no where to be seen. The two friends continued on regardless. They walked slowly through the town, coming upon their favorite restaurant. It had always been the two of them their, others may have joined them, but it was really about them. She'd told him there. She'd poured out her heart, eloquently flattering him, through the nervous pauses and terrified stops. I see your look, but if I did not at least grant her the gift of speech, I would be forsaking my duty as your guide through this torrid tale. The important thing is that day she faced her fears and she paid the price.

He tore in to her and this I cannot change. I wish to tell you he held back, but he didn't. He couldn't for there was no true way. I wish to say that he told her he did not feel the same and that another had captured his heart, but that is not all. But the conversation did not stay pleasant for long. High emotions lead to tensions, and as she looked crushed he endeavored to make her so. His generally good temper changed. A dam broke inside him. All his hate and rage from all of his eighteen years poured forth, lashing out against the young woman with him. Thankfully they'd left the restaurant, otherwise it may have caused a scene. They had just entered the parking lot, still trapped in the same silence that had gripped them since Kim had told him. She'd finally asked him to speak to her, fear tearing at her voice. It was almost as if the sound of her quivering voice had cracked his defenses, the same defenses that had so far protected everyone from the youth's anger. He was angry about being underestimated, about thinking he was nothing, that he couldn't believe in himself and that noone else believed in him. So he tore apart one of the truly few who did. His words tore like barbs into her soul, crushing her spirit. Tears bled from her eyes as years of frustration found a target. The pain he caused that day was simply because of his own fear. Funny how powerful fear is isn't it? After he had left the young heroine broken he'd left, walking to the newly arrived car of the broken girl's former enemy. The other girl saw the devastation, had heard some of the words. She craved to say something, to interrupt, but she hadn't. Now she watched as the crying heroine stood broken. The boy was in the car, but the former enemy couldn't help but stay still. Eventually his voice brought her to the car.

An hour later, at her home she'd received a call. The broken voice told her who was speaking. The crying woman only spoke once, though her face was a mask of tears and her voice cracked. The words would only be said once, before the line clicked off.

'Take care of him.'

The words had an air of finality. It didn't help that later, after the boy had left her house, the cheerleader had called the heroine back, but she was gone. After the call the cheerleader had returned to the boy. She'd seen him cry, he tried to hide it of course. He didn't ask if it was the heroine, but the cheerleader knew he wanted to know. So she simply sat and kept him company until it was time for him to go. She knew then how he'd truly felt.

You see the words the boy spoke stemmed from hatred, his hatred of himself. He'd been sure he could never be enough for her, so he'd done what he'd had to. In a sick way he was protecting her, but it is not my place to judge, and whether my conjuncture is right, the poor heroine never knew, for she was quite gone.

And now we reach the end of the factual portion of my tale, all I can tell you is the truth from the eyes of an old man, which is perhaps the strongest truth of all. For it is tempered by experience and preserved through memory. It contains knowledge hidden in the only form we can truly access it, that of the story. Let me tell you the rest now.

The heroine never went home, that much I can tell you for sure. As for the boy, he has to live with his decision, I doubt he's handling it well. Everyday it chews at him a little more, corroding more of the joy and shine that hade once graced his young form. And he is clueless to the pain of those around him, so great is his own. It robs all joy from his life and forces him to marinate in putrid sorrow. A sad fate to say the least.

But let us leave those two sad lovers and gaze upon one who's shame clings tightly to her very form. Let us talk of the other cheerleader. I do not know this girl, nor could I claim to know her circumstances, but I know this. Her pain ate her as well. Pain that was caused by another. Intrigued? You see this girl was not directly injured during the destruction of the long friendship. Her injury came afterwards. Day after day she watched a man she'd respected, even come to love, eaten by his self-doubts and pain. Every kiss seemed emptier and emptier, as the boy's facade slowly faded. As the glint died in his eyes, her soul cried. Maybe if she'd said something, it would have been different. If she'd talked to the boy, forced him to see his own worth maybe she wouldn't have to watch the life slowly ebb from him. As it was the heroine's last words haunted her. 'Take care of him,' She wasn't really doing that was she? And so the years past, ten to be exact. The former heroine wandering, the boy slowly decaying, and the sad former cheerleader paralyzed.

But don't fret after all this story may one day have a happy ending. After all, that is why you're here Ms. Rockweller. Isn't it?"

Across the cave, shielded by the darkness, the young woman spoke for the first time since entering the cave. Her voice had a new tenor than the one she'd born years ago, back when her and Kim were rivals, before their lives had changed.

"Yes."

She couldn't change the past, but she could fix everything for the sake of the future. It had taken her ten years to gather the courage, she wouldn't fail. The old man merely smiled.

-

Shattered ribs hurt. Agent Will Do, formerly of global justice, could attest to that. When he'd taken over for the vanished Kim Possible he'd never thought it would end this way. Another blow tore open his forehead. Blood streamed down his face as he tried to regain his ground. There wasn't much else he could do. His squad, ironically it consisted of agents trained specifically for the missions that Kim had once accomplished with only her two closest friends, three if you counted the naked mole rat, lay dead. He could see their bodies littering the ground. He was the last one left. Not for long though. His opponent was relentless. Once his team may have stood a chance. Time had changed that. Time had changed a lot of things. Another blow reached his body, this time it was his left arm to shatter. He could feel the fore-arm bone snap clean. He'd tried to block, that was his reward. The pain just brought back more memories of the past. He was finished, and unlike in fiction his memories weren't waiting for the exact moment of his death to replay themselves. His life had largely consisted of his career. That had started to change after he'd met Kim Possible. He, a top-notch agent, had been almost useless. He'd later determined that a part of her success that night derived from her own drive, the rest belonged to that of her friends. People like Kim always seemed to surround themselves with allies. He could understand that. For the last ten years his team had been both friends and a kind of family. Now they lay dead. He felt that pain, but he wasn't going to stop fighting. Which brought up a question. Why had Kim quit? That random chain of thought ended abruptly when another blow crashed into his skull. He struck the concrete with a crack. Most people would have puked at the sound. His assailant wasn't most people. Blood oozed all around him. His conciseness dimmed slightly. Sounds took on different qualities, textures to be exact. He'd never even noticed sounds had them before. Again his fuzzy thoughts were interrupted. This time a hand gripped his shirt, raising him slightly. All that poured from his mind and lips after that were screams of agony as a burning hand was pressed against his fragile flesh.

-

It has been said that one is the loneliest number. That is a blatant lie. There is a certain loneliness that can be achieved when there is no one around you, but it can not compare to the feelings that being cut off from the bustling crowd around you can cause. A particular girl knew. She was always alone. Even when she was surrounded by hordes of people. Most likely it was this sensation that caused her to actively avoid cities. Sometimes it couldn't be helped though. This was one of those times. She wanted to find somebody. His name was Gen. The old man was said to frequent this area of Hongkong. So she searched its streets, alone despite the bodies surrounding her. Her auburn hair was short, just long enough to give her face a feminine touch. Her body was lean, but fit. Her soft curves were lined with lean muscle, giving her the appearance of softness, with the strength born of hardness. Her clothes were functional, having no hard seems that would restrict her movement, yet they did nothing to hide her gender. A small part of her that retained who she used to be enjoyed that. The rest of her tolerated this small indulgence. After all a warrior should always remember where they came form and who they were. The present was only different if the past served as proof of the change.

She continued to walk down the street, with a sturdy walk that even the old her had not possessed. Once she'd boasted she could do anything. Now she looked it the statement could be true. The irony was that she didn't believe it anymore. Truthfully she didn't believe in anything nowadays. Most people wouldn't be able to read that from just her walk. Her body posture, the way she fought everything screamed capability, so much so that the casual observer would not bother to look further. After all most people weren't interested in the emotional workings of random individuals. The quiet desperation remained unnoticed when she walked the streets. The person waiting for her noticed it immediately. It wasn't anything new. She always looked like she'd lost faith, ever since he'd met her. He just ignored it, holding his tongue until she had reached him.

"Hey Red."

His voice was soft, filled with delicate tones that made him easy to listen to. His voice wasn't much more than a whisper. It was to be expected, he wasn't in the best shape that day. It had been a very long day, longer than most and now he had to deal with the infamous Red. Meetings with the strange girl always left him wiped, and that was on a good day.

"Where's Gen?"

Her voice had lost all trace of happiness. Though Adam couldn't be sure of that, he had nothing to compare it to. That wasn't to say that she sounded lifeless, merely un-alive. There was no real pep, or zing to the voice, yet it also lacked the dreariness of a monotone or the sullen tones of the perpetually depressed. Her voice was of one who'd had it all and left it behind. Noone knew what 'it' was, but Adam had a theory. He always did.

"He died two days ago. His body was too old to recover from his last fight."

They both knew what he really meant. Gen hadn't died in battle, but the young man standing before Red hadn't had the heart to let the old warrior die in such a mundane way. It wasn't for the young man's sake, but Gen's. The old assassin would have wanted to be remembered that way. The two standing in an alley didn't need to communicate that.

She said nothing. It was one of the reasons he hated meeting Red. It wasn't so much what she said, when she spoke, it was what she didn't say. Which would be fine with him, if her body didn't scream at him every second. He could see the quiet resignation in her muscles, hear the uncried tears in the way her right hand wavered slightly. He really was too in tune for his own good sometimes. Regardless he plowed on.

"He wanted you to preform the last rites. You were really the only choice."

The last part was for her benefit. She tried to avoid intimacy. He knew that personally.

"He's in the house behind me," he titled his head slightly, indicating a doorway to his right. "I'll wait here."

She walked by him, ignoring him as she made her way to the house. He sighed as she entered. He'd known there would be difficult days, but still he'd known Gen better than most. It was painful to realize that the only other who could truly make that claim would never dare to. She'd be too afraid. At least that's what he thought.

The old assassin lay upon a wooden table. Surrounding him was a few candles and a single photo. Adam's touches. The old man was wearing the purple robe he'd always fought in. A single tear drop fell as she watched his unmoving form. It was completely lifeless and that disturbed her. If she was being truthful she'd admit she was scared and hurt. Still, first came the acceptance of his condition. She didn't really have friends now. Nor a family. She merely had the bonds she shared with other fighters. Gen had been one of them. In a way the cranky, cankatorus old man had replaced her father in her eyes, so much so as anyone was capable of being family to her now. He'd largely left her in peace, instead focusing on speaking rarely and letting her do the same. She'd felt comfortable in his prescence. Nothing was expected of her, except that she learn when he taught her. That was rare. Only after a bout did such occasions occur, and they fought less as time passed. He'd gained confidence in her abilities and didn't need to see her refine as much. He'd let her keep the skills she'd learned from her old teacher, instead pointing out flaws in style and form that she needed to correct. He'd taught her some of his techniques as well, but she rarely relied on them in combat. Still he'd taught her a lot, while she'd stayed with him. Over the years those times accumulated into the longest she stayed in any one place.

Some images flashed through her mind, she allowed them to play. Gen was there, often in the room where they spared. It wasn't much, just a bare wooden space. Mostly she lost. Towards the end she won more and more. At one point he barely held back. The last image had him halting a deathblow right before her throat. That had been eight years ago. She allowed herself to reminse, to remember the different lessons she'd accumulated. He'd shared a lot with her. His style was that of the assassin. He fought to the death and his lessons had contained the wisdom of one who continually walked away. She knew he'd spared opponents before. Several fighters were still alive today becuase he'd had no intrest in their demise. That was something else he taught her. Control. She'd had it before, her lifestyle had required it. With him she'd honed it to a fine edge. She could control her emotions, without supressing them. She could feel the reactions and use them in ways she'd never thought possible ten years ago. To most it would sound like science fiction. To her it was merely an extension of normal social behavior. She saw others excerice the same forms of control she'd learned: pushing past pain, hiding reactions, masking intent. The only difference was that she was aware of it and how to complete these tasks. Many others relied on insticnt. She'd honed that to thanks to him.

The hours past as she slowly said goodbye. As she moved to start the ceromony something caught her eye. A small note addressed to her lay next to him on the table. She read it somberly.

New tears flowed as she finished. Some fell, staining the paper with the chineese characters. It was a letter of goodbye. She wasn't upset that he'd said it in this way. Somehow it was better the way they were doing it. They had always valued the silence of each other's company, even now that was preserved.

She went through the cermony now, helping him to pass on. The proper words were said, the proper motions made. Different scents filled the room. Slowly she felt herself abosorbed in the ritual, remembering once again the man she had come to care for, despite her past. As the ritual ended she began to say goodbye to her mentor and the closet thing to a family she'd allowed herself. She exited the small house a few minutes later, wearing the keepsake he'd left her. Adam was still waiting. Nodding silently he fell into step beside her as they walked. They contiued like that for a few blocks, until they came to a small restuarant. With a hint of a smile on his face they entered.

The restuarant was small and noisy. Careful patterns filled the walls, a deep colored carpet adorned the floor, and small lamps adorned the tables, giving the place the quiet elegant feel they had come for. She changed a little as she sat down. Her tone picked up a little life and hints of smile began to show every now and then. It was mostly an act, even if she didn't know it. The traces of a smile were real, but could only show through when she forgot her sadness, he tried to do that for her. That day they did it for each other.

He watched as she ordered her meal. Traces of life continued to come back to the girl as she did so. She'd been to this restauraunt many times. Sometimes Gen accompanied her, sometimes she was alone. And others, like that day she was with Adam. His mind was pulled away from her when the waitress looked at him. He ordered as Kim waited. After the waitress left he continued their conversation.

"How'd it go?"

The hint of smile returned, only to vanish breifly and then return again.

"Won. I guess I'm in."

"Congrajulations. How many years would this make?"

"Seven, but you knew that."

He didn't deny it. No sense really.

"Yup, just felt the need to ask."

She didn't comment on that. Like everyone else who spent enough time around the blackhaired man she'd learned to either accept or ignore his oddities. A creature of intuition he'd sometimes blurt out random statements that he felt needed to be said. Once he'd been an hour late meeting her because he'd felt the sudden need to take a different route. She never let it annoy her. She'd seen the effects of what happened when his intuition was ignored, had the scar to prove it. She listened now. Speaking again, her voice carried a tiny hint of her old playfulness.

"Too bad that you never make it."

He scoffed at that. They both knew he'd never actually tried to be invited, not like the rest. As the only student of Oro, who had retired, he recieved his master's yearly invitation. Ken Masters liked to see old oponents. After the american mogul started funding the tournaments serveral changes had been made. No longer did the tournaments take place in back alleys or shady evil lairs. Every year since Ken started arranging the World Warriors tournament, five years ago, a location was picked and fighters were invited to attend. Many attended the peliminaries, few returned to the actual tournament two months later.

"Oh I always go, I just never fight."

"Why is that again?"

He rolled his eyes slightly. The banter didn't come easily for them, but he suspected she wanted it anyway. So he tried to anwser with a witty remark. He failed miserably.

"What can I say, cute chicks kicking ass. I'm there."

She just looked at him. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Eh what can I say, I'm not funny."

She nodded in agreement.

-

Half a world away a man was fighting. His fists lashed out in odd intervals, following an internal rhythm known only to him. It worked. Blows that were expected never came. Unexpected ones landed. A burly man crashed backwards against a wall. His head cracked against the brick. His assailant didn't smile, but continued nonetheless. Another fist smashed into the burly man's chest. Knee then met groin. As the knee fell back to earth another fist lashed out. Soon the burly man, blood flowing freely from his face, slumped against the wall. His attacker looked down at him.

"Tell Mack the street's not safe for his shit anymore. You got me?"

The man looked up despite his broken face. His attempt at a crooked grin would have made most cringe, so complete was the damage. The young blonde standing over him was not most. In fact he was quite unique.

"Mack's gonna get you bitch. Let's see how brave you are when he's got your balls in a can."

The blonde's foot lashed out and the man slumped to the ground uncounsious.

"We'll see."

-

They ate in peace, despite the noise all around them. He was used to bustling, she was used to looking for quiet where none existed. Their friendship was an odd one. Neither really talked much about themselves, or their pasts. When they did talk it was always non-comital statements, each perfering the enjoyment found simply in accepting silence. For her it was like being with Gen, only she could talk, when she needed to. For him it was simply about being near someone whose training would allow them to accept him. He was an oddity among the fighters, few could understand. She could. Ten years had seen the two of them spend time together in a way unkown to most fighters. Casual dining and simple chit chat. That made Adam's next words even harder.

"Kim, there's something I need to ask."

She froze slightly, she'd never told him her real name. The loud conversation buzzed around them, masking all of their words. It was why he chose now to have this conversation. He was sure they were safe, among the crowd. Still she went on the defensive, he'd kinda expected that.

"It's alright, I've known for a while. Up to now your past has been just that, your past. But I think we're friends. And I think ten years gives me the..."

"Enough." Her eyes shone slightly, enough to make most cringe. The man sitting across from her had seen her fight. He didn't just cringe, he shrunk. "How?"

Whereas his tone had been fast and anxoius before it slowed down now.

"You've never asked me about my past. Is it so hard to assume I'd seen you before?"

Her eyes narrowed more.

"Who are you? Really." Venom laced every syllable.

"I'm not from that aspect of your life. When I was training with Oro a man visited. He told us of a student of his, said she was about my age. He challanged Oro, it was quite an entertaining match. In the end he lost, but he walked away. Even as he challenged Oro, I watched. I was to reconigize the man's fighting style. It was the same as yours. That's all I know about you. Your name, how you fight, and your legend. Though I'm a little iffy on the details."

Her voice softened a little.

"How."

"I visted the man every now and then," a smile returned to his face, it was soft and lite but there. "Once he told me a story of Love Lost."

Her face fell at that. He continued.

"I don't know how he knew, I don't know if he told me the truth. It seemed like he left much out, it stuck in my mind because it was so unlike one of his stories. It seemed more like an anecdote from a life. There were none of his usual embleshments or details. He just told me that he'd once known a girl who'd loved too much. He hoped she found what she once lost."

He fell silent as he finished. Her eyes met his again. The anger had disapted a little.

"When?"

"I figured it out about a month after I met the old man, for the last time."

"Last time?"

"I haven't had the chance to get back to him. But that's what I wanted to tell you. The original man who trained you is alive and kinda well. I mean he lives in a cave, by himself."

Her eyes lowered slightly.

"Oh. Sorry," when her eyes raised the anger was replaced with a softness he'd never seen. "How was he?"

"Alive, well, strong. He gave me quite a work out."

She looked at him, mirth playing across her features.

"You fought?"

"Just a sparring match, he wouldn't take no for an anwser. It was for first blood."

"Who won?"

"That's a secret I'll take to my grave."

Her eyes opened slightly at that.

"Now way."

He sipped the drink in front of him, the bubbles tickling his tounge. Her expresion slowly returned to normal.

"Could you take me to him, after the tournament?"

"It would be a pleasure." He took another sip. "So by the way, you got a last name to go with the one I know?"

The smile adorning her face was nothing short of wicked.

"That's a secret I'll take to my grave."

His sigh was theatrical. They laughed as they continued to eat the food placed in front of them. By the time they finished they were both more relaxed in each other's presence than ever before. Taking a risk Kim asked a question of her own.

"How did Oro find you."

It was his time to stare, then a small playback of his own words occured inside his mind.

"Right I said his name," he anwsered his own unspoken question. "I'd prefer not to, but I guess fair is fair.

"In a sense I lived a normal childhood. Until the age of twelve I was as decadent as any other american boy. I watched t.v., lusted after women, all that fun stuff. The main difference was that my mom was a little freaky. I wasn't supposed to go out unsuprivesed. I had to sit in at recess too. Ever since I can remember I was supposed to basically just sit and let life pass me by. At first it was simple. I didn't really have much to compare my life to. Then school started. As did the meditating. I had to meditate every day, she'd been clear on that. My dad enforced it too. Clear the mind, look at nothing for a half hour. That changed over time. I was supposed to clear my mind for more and more time. I never really took it seriously. After all I was like everyone else, it was just my parents that were nuts. They were right. My focus slipped and I lost a lot. Oro found me, in the wreckage of what was once my home. I left with him. That's about it. "

"There's more isn't there?" Her tone was soft, consoling. He appreacheated that.

"Yes, there is. But this is neither the time nor place. Otherwise I'd ask you a few questions."

"It would only be fair," she paraphrased him.

"Are you sure?"

"Shoot."

He could see the apprehension on her face as he prepared to speak. She shouldn't have worried he wasn't asking this time.

"Whatever happened to you, was painful. I can understand. But it's been ten years. I think it's time you opened up a little."

The words were whispered, barely heard over the noisy din. Now she knew why he shared at all. He wanted her to know, he knew pain too. She didn't lash out at him, she was beyond that point now. Sadness filled her as she whispered back.

"Have you?"

A thin smile, born more of pain than joy spread over his face.

"Yeah. I've started to."

At her raised eyebrow he continued.

"You remember Sakura?"

"Of course, she's a friend," at his skeptical look she added, "Well so much as we've got friends these days. I mean we've been friends for ten years and this is the first time we've ever talked like this."

She had a point, but he wasn't going to let her berate herself over something like that.

"Well you've gotta remember. It's not like it's been a consecutive ten years. We spend a lot of time alone on the road. It's the life we chose true, but we can change that. The rest of the gang will be meeting at Makato's before the competition. You could drop by this time."

"I don't want to intrude."

"Are you kidding? Intrude? Kim, you've been invited. When Sakura found out I was going to meet you she was quite adament about inviting you. Truthfully I didn't know phones could transmite such high pitched squeals."

A genuine smile touched her lips. This was new and yet old. She'd thought she'd never experiance this again, but she was happy to be wrong. She felt accepted. For the past ten years only Gen and Adam had done this, now it turned out the others wanted her there. At her expression he stopped waiting for a reprimand for his bad joke.

"You know the relationship you've got with them is pretty normal for fighters. For the most part, our kind just meet, fight, joke, and part ways. It can be a lonely life Kim, if you let it. Come, I know they're looking forward to seeing you."

At her thankful nod he rose.

"Come on, let's celebrate this new brakethrough with a night out."

She smiled and followed him out as the sun slowly set outside.

-

Dawn cracked over the town of Middleton. In its streets one could often see hope. In some senses it was a magical place. Many dreams were born here, some even came to fruition. But that could be said of many towns. To its credit it also bore two children of remark. There were others of course, but it is these two that have lead to the figure standing, watching an old ranch house. The house was deserted, like it had been for several years, ever since the family had relocated. The house was in itself a testimonial to the former occupants. Many thought the town's favorite daughter had died. The one standing outside of her house knew better. A body was never found and that was enough proof for the figure waiting for dawn to crack. The time of waiting was ending. She was almost through. Now was the time for the end game to begin. Technically a sunset should be playing across the sky, if for nothing but to symbolize the ending of the game. Instead the sun rose, fiery rays peaking across the sky. Slowly the darkness cracked and faded letting the warm rays kill the sky. All this was lost on the person standing in front of the house where ten years ago a hero resided. It's funny how cosmological signs go right over people's heads.

-

Bars are generaly not places where one finds true fighters. For most fighters the concept of destroying their reaction times so completely is abhorrent. They are always ready, prepared to fight back. This is not to say they do not indulge in the pervasive drug that is alcohol. Rather, they drink alone, or perhaps with another warrior, one they trust. Hollywood would have us believe otherwise. Adam and Kim didn't conform to Hollywood's ideals that night. She had a coke, he chose a club soda. The bartender, an attractive Chinese girl, didn't argue. She'd learned long ago not to question strange drinking practices. The last person who had merely ordered soda had been a handsome man wearing a white shirt, baseball cap, and an odd pair of pants she hadn't recognized. He'd saved her when a drunken brawl broke out. One of the men had come after her, he'd reacted faster than she thought possible. That was a little more than a week ago and she still remembered. She poured the drinks without question and smiled politely as Adam took the drinks from her. The two patrons payed and then resumed talking. Kim spoke first.

"So what's this about Sakura?"

He groaned in the classic style of the tortured male. Now he wished he'd never spoken to her in the restaurant. He was in for it, what it was he wasn't sure, but dna memory screamed he wasn't going to like it. The medium sized man ran a hand through his short, messy black hair.

"We're dating."

The girl's grin grew more devious. The prospect of gossip bringing back the simple joys of old. Talking, chatting, acting normal. It was something her friend could appreciate, so he played along, despite the urging of his genetic memory. She listened to hers though and slipped into a sugary voice, unbefitting the warrior she was.

"How long?"

He didn't know where the conversation was heading, but her voice told him the light at the end of the tunnel would most definitely be a train. Since he had missed the horror that is the friend of the girlfriend before this point in time, having spent most of his years in training, he had no real reason to fear. How was he supposed to know that he'd be arming Kim for late night chats once they reached Makoto's?

"About a year. Perhaps more. I think we formalized it when I visited after World Warriors last year."

The smile adorning Kim's face was nothing short of predatory.

"You visit?"

"It's not like I have much else to do. I meditate, wander, and see people along the way."

Dark liquid passed her lips and he didn't need to read minds to know what she was thinking.

"I'm not full of shit alright."

Her cup resting on the bar, she turned to look at him.

"I never said that, but I've got to know. Do you actually fight?"

There wasn't much to say or wonder about. It was a logical question, one she'd have to ask sooner or later. He was glad she waited this long. Didn't mean he was ready to answer though. The warm bubbles pressed against his lips as he held the cup up, never actually sipping. He was enraptured with the softly bubbling soda, or so it seemed. Kim placed a hand on his shoulder,

"Its alright. We can take the sharing slower, you can answer later."

He drained the last of the club soda, standing after the clear liquid was gone. She followed suite. They walked out silently. As they left the bar, he saw a hand dart out of the darkness. He let it land on Kim's shoulder. His eyes glanced into the darkness, looking for the shape of the man through well honed periphial vision. When his eyes turned up nothing he resorted to other means. His mind opened and he let a little control slip, drawing energy into himself. There was another man waiting at the next alleyway. A third was to his left, hiding behind some boxes. While he noted his surroundings Kim reacted.

She registered the hand, but didn't attack right away. She waited for the sound of a voice.

"Hey hot stuff, don't you know this road's closed? You're gonna have to pay a fine," his eyes traveled down her well formed back, alighting on her ass. His free hand went to cup it, her foot shot back, crashing into his shin. Heel met brittle bone and snapped it. Her right elbow shot back, taking advantage of the man's pain to strike. His nose broke in an explosion of blood. He went down and Adam lashed out.

Dark waves spread from his fingers, crashing into the boxes shielding one of the men. They shattered, splinters flying out. Adam focused more, crushing the same splinters time and time again, reducing them to harmless specks of dust. His mind ached, the control needed causing him pain. He could feel the energy rushing through him, trying to escape. He held it back, using only what was needed to smash the gun from the man's hands. The energy met the flesh curled around the steel handle of the gun first. Fingers broke and shattered under the blast. Next the metal warped, pressing first backwards then cracking under the intense pressure. With the gun's casing cracked and the weapon's barrel warped the blast ceased, Adam's head swimming from the control needed.

He felt the shot being fired. The power still coursed through his muscles, imbuing them with strength. The leftover energy needed someplace to go. His self-preservation instincts provided the perfect outlet, saving his life. One of his hands shot sideways knocking Kim to safety, then his legs moved. The first shot hit in-between where the two friends had been standing. The second rocketed through the night sky missing his leaping form by inches. The third shot was closer, but his enhanced limbs pulled him to safety, milliseconds before the bullet struck. The fourth shot never came. Kim's foot crashed into the shooter's face, knocking him down. Her foot descended, crushing the bones of his trigger hand. He screamed and she kicked the gun away. He lashed out, her foot found his head, sending him unconscious to the pavement. An alert screamed in Adam's mind and he felt a shot being fired. It wasn't at him. He let the power flow through him again, this time drawing more from both himself and those around him. He could feel the bullet travel through the air, its movements slowing to a speed he could see. The entire world felt like molasses. The energy flowed through him with more force, reshaping the bullet. Its essence resisted, but soon the slow moving object changed, becoming liquid.

Kim felt something wet splash against her. It was a dull grey color. She didn't understand, she'd heard a gun being fired. But her confusion was nothing against the man who'd fired the shot. He knew he'd hit her, he'd seen the impact on her body. Her right side had been pulled back. So why wasn't she bleeding? Fear can be a powerful force, the would be rapist learned that as it clouded his mind. The still loaded gun was forgotten even as the girl rushed towards him. Her foot lashed out, followed by a battery of punches and knife hands. Bleeding the man collapsed in a heap. The final assailant down, Kim turned to look at her friend. He was curled in on himself. Both his knees and skull rested on the concrete. He was wheezing softly while shaking violently. It had taken a lot to keep the energy in check, more than he'd had readily available. Still shaking he found himself helped to his feet by Kim.

Looking into the redhead's eyes he found a mixture of worry and curiosity. Her voice wasn't unsure, but didn't sound certain by any means, even his addled mind could tell.

"I'll take that as a yes."

By comparison his voice was even more shaky than he would have thought possible. It quivered and quaked.

"Per-haps we, should; find a place to stay."

Silently Kim led him back to Gen's old home, keeping alert for anymore confrontations. Once inside she brought him in to the area where Gen had once slept, ignoring the preserved body of her mentor lying on the table outside of the bedroom. After letting Adam fall asleep on the matted floor, a thin sleeping bag the only softness between him and the mats, Kim also curled up and drifted off.

-

Sunlight woke up both friends the next day. Pain pounded through Adam's head. Most people would have told him he had a hangover. Truthfully it felt that way. Or it would have if he'd ever actually been drunk. Losing control was a luxury that he didn't have. She'd experienced them before and while he was paying homage to a small wooden bucket she told him so.

"You didn't have anything to drink last night did you?"

Small bits of vomit clung to his mouth, he had to spit to free himself.

"Just the club soda. You'd know if I'd had alcohol."

Despite herself she had to ask.

"How?"

Finally feeling the urge to retch pass, he pulled his head from above the wooden bucket.

"We'd both be dead."

Most people don't enjoy hearing their life could have been ended easily. Kim was no different. Her eyebrow raised slightly. A look of disbelief and challenge crossed her pretty face. He didn't rise to it. A towel instead filled his attention as he cleaned his face.

"Give me ten minutes, and I'll be ready to go."

She nodded slightly, leaving him alone. Quietly she made her way to the training room Gen had once used. It was nothing more than a bare wooden room, but that didn't stop her. First she went through the katas, forms, that Gen had taught her. That alone took twenty minutes, she didn't notice. Next came the forms she'd learned before that. It had been around twenty years ago, but she practiced them still. They formed the basis of her fighting repertoire. These took her longer. About an hour passed as she went through both the immobile and moving aspects of the forms. After her final flip she heard the sound of clapping.

"You done?"

She wasn't really. She'd been taking it slow, just warming up in essence. Most days she spent a few hours going through the different stances and keeping herself in top form. It slowed down her progress, but she found it was worth it.

"No where near."

"Anything I can do to speed it up?"

The glint that shone in her eyes was nothing short of evil. A plan quickly formed in her head. She'd had a taste of what he could do last night, but his comment earlier had annoyed her. Okay he obviously was strong, but that didn't mean he was unstoppable. She pained a little as the last thought spread through her mind. The final word was too close to the name of a former friend. Shrugging that thought aside she instead focused on the issue at hand.

"Well, I could skip the rest if you'd give me a workout."

"Uh, Kim. I hate to burst your bubble, but I've got a girlfriend. I told you last night, remember?"

She rolled her eyes, not sure if he was playing dumb or just naturally that way.

"Come on, I want to spar. Last night was amazing. The way you dodged you can obviously fight, so why not?" The last sentence came out in a nervous spurt. He had to take a few seconds to process it. His reaction wasn't surprising after he did though.

"When you're finished let me know. I'll go reschedule the flight."

That caught her attention.

"Flight?"

"To japan. I assumed you'd want to come to Makato's. If we fly and then walk we should make it in three days. That'd give us three weeks with everyone, plenty of time to relax and get ready for the tournament."

He made to go, but her voice called him back.

"It'd be faster if you just spared with me."

"Not gonna happen."

Then she darted in front of him. Her face slipped into a mask that she hadn't worn in years, ten to be exact. It was the very figure of sadness. In most it invoked a feeling of desperate pity. In Adam it invoked first one of mirth, then as the gaze never wavered an overwhelming sense of uneasiness washed over him.

"Cut it out. What is that thing?"

The gaze never wavered. He began to squirm.

"Pwetty please?"

He ducked away, slipping by her with a rapidity that surprised her. It shouldn't have, but she was used to thinking of him as incapable. A small inner voice chanted at her, reminding her that she'd once thought of someone else like that. Yet he'd proven quite capable of inflicting pain, her current life was proof of that.

"Kim, when I'm done I'll be waiting for you outside."

He walked out the door, leaving her to her training.