Virtua Rhapsody

by speccyboy

Virtua Fighter from the beginning - a loose amalgamation of the game and anime's plot with new and original characters in addition to the familiar cast. Read and review - I may require help/co-writing, so comments and offers can be left in the reviews section. :) Originally a (now aborted) Tekken fic.

1. Chapter 1

Virtua Rhapsody

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my Original Characters - Sandro Peseta, Yakov Skulachev and Hans von Braun

Virtua Rhapsody

Prologue

The Worldwide Fighting Tournament was a name that struck fire into the hearts of many competitors and fighters around the World. Every man and woman wanted to be a part of the Tournament. What many people are not aware of is the conspiracy behind the Tournament, the truth of which was exposed only thanks to the help of an electronic chiptune music band - this group owned the world of computer and video game music until they were given a chance to expand into superstardom with a live gig at the Bryant Mansion. The band was known as Enlightenment, and this is their story, so prepare for highs and lows, laughs and tears, comedy and drama, and a retro soundtrack, all in one epic adventure.

Chapter 1

Hallenstadion, City of Zurich, Zurich, Switzerland – 5 October 1993

Chiptune prog-rock group Enlightenment had been playing together since their college days, when they had shared their mutual affection for video game music. Right now, they were performing before an audience of 13,000 nerds and music lovers, mainly German speakers. They were nearing the end of what was meant to be their last show on their current tour in support of their album Dust to Dust. The audience applauded and the show concluded as the trio – keyboardist Sandro Peseta, guitarist/vocalist Yakov Skulachev and drummer Hans von Braun – headed backstage after they what believed to be their last concert on their European tour. They had yet to break the US. A man with dark hair in a suit and necktie – Mr Bryant – was in attendance as he followed the band backstage. Sandro, the eldest of the three – 25 years old – was still high from the energy delivered during the performance. "YES!" He shouted out. "I was on fire tonight. WE were on fucking fire!" He laughed as he took a swig of vodka to calm down; his friend Yakov – the middle musician, 22 years old – remained calm like a stoic samurai.

"Personally, I thought the audience was quite placid compared to the more rowdy folks we played to a few days ago." Yakov spoke up, the Soviet musician observing his friend's behaviour as he sighed while muttering something in Russian.

"Oh, you mean those garlic-chomping rod-sparers in the Parc des Princes in Paris? What about the drug-probers at the Groenoordhallen in Leiden who booed the shit out of us until I had to give them a piece of my mind like a Venetian Superman?" Sandro retorted as the booze began to take effect, followed by the Italian keyboardist cursing in his native language as Mr Bryant slowly made his way through the rather lax security – the band did not believe in bodyguards.

"Europe's great, but we've still got to break America. I mean, we've done four albums and we've only toured Europe – we were lucky to play in Budapest, man. Hell, I think Munich was our best gig as a whole." Hans, the youngest of the three – younger than Yakov by two months or so – spoke up. The three electro-pianists began contemplating work for their next album as Mr Bryant reached them, dressed in a suit and necktie, accompanied by a guardian.

"Boys… that was a unique show you put on. I am impressed." He smiled as a slightly drunk Sandro squinted at him, the musician sitting up as his addled memory became clear once more. "I've got an offer for you: You play a show for my daughter and her socialite friends… and I'll help you break America."

"What are you talking about?" Sandro asked, the normally abrasive and outspoken young man rather polite and civilised for a change. Mr Bryant handed the trio some plane tickets.

"All expenses paid. I suggest you get some sleep and leave tomorrow." Mr Bryant replied with a slight smirk on his face. "Good day, boys." With those words, the businessman left. Sandro looked at the ticket as the booze began to leave his body, his eyes widening slightly as the realisation set in.

"Guys, look at this! It's an invitation to play at the Bryant Mansion in Frisco!" He said jubilantly.

"What do we do?" Yakov asked curiously. "We can't just turn down this offer, right?"

"Damn right, Yak!" Sandro replied as he looked up to the Heavens. "Our prayers have been answered." He turned to some of the roadies. "One more show: The Bryant Mansion Courtyard in San Francisco, California – we're going to break America, baby!" There was a clamour of voices from the roadies.

"I hear there are going to be some pretty stiff upper lips there." Hans surmised – he was not too sure if he liked the sound of this gig.

"Yes, I heard that Jacky and Sarah Bryant will be there – JKD siblings, a racing prodigy and a blonde bitch with a thing for skydiving, endlessly straddling her opponents as she beats them and throws them into submission while breaking their shinbones and giving them sexy but deadly looks." Yakov mused. "What do you think, San?" He turned to face Sandro, his eyes widening slightly as he stared out into Space. "Sandro…?" Yakov waved his hand in front of Sandro, a look of worry evident on his face. "Hans, I think the booze went to his head too soon." Hans just sighed in disbelief before Sandro finally spoke up.

"I'm not drunk, Yak… I was just thinking about what you were saying." With those words, he just crossed his legs as he wiped the image of him being straddled by Sarah away from his mind. He turned to his friends. "One more gig and then this tour is definitely over." With those words, the trio headed back to their hotel in the centre of the City of Zurich and into their bedrooms. Sandro lied back on his bed, trying to sleep… but all he could think of was Sarah straddling him on top of his keyboard.