Disclaimer: I don't own Street Fighter in any way, shape or form. It and all associated characters, trademarks, etc. are owned by Capcom. I'm just telling some stories about them.
Chapter Twelve: Deception
Japan, March 14
With a cry of "Tatsumakisenpukyaku!" Ken launched himself into the air. The Hurricane Kick was perfectly executed; the young American shot toward his friend, leg outstretched, spinning in a blinding blur of kicks.
Ryu reacted quickly. Moving backward with a quick series of hops, he kept just out of range. When Ken came out of the technique, he was ready. Grabbing Ken's kicking foot as it dropped, he jerked it upward, unbalancing his friend. Then in one smooth motion he crouched low into a sweep kick, knocking Ken's other foot out from under him even as it touched the dojo floor. Ken went down on his back.
With a small smile Ryu stood, offering a hand to his friend. "You know," he said. "If Master were here, he'd be beside himself at how recklessly you're fighting. Leaving yourself too open, exposing too many vulnerabilities..."
Ken took the hand, pulling himself up, a grin on his face. "Hey, don't knock it—it works most of the time. You're just the only one who knows me well enough not to be psyched out by it."
Ryu chuckled, then shook his head. "Come on Ken, you know that's not true. There are plenty of warriors out there that it wouldn't rattle. In fact, the last man I fought in the Street Fighter tournament was..."
But his voice trailed off, unable to complete the sentence. He knew there was something there, a face, a name... There was something important that he should remember about that man. Except that somehow, he couldn't. It was something that had been happening to him more and more of late. At least, he thought it had. He couldn't remember that very well either.
Ken gave Ryu's shoulder a friendly punch, interrupting his thoughts. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I can stomach losing a few fights, so long as I do it with style. You should try it sometime; you might like it better than your boring old stick-in-the-mud way of doing things."
Ryu smiled. But it was a forced, empty smile; inside, he was in turmoil. How could everything feel so right, and yet at the same time so very wrong, so false and hollow? Everything was exactly as he remembered it. Everything was exactly as he would expect it to be. And yet...
"Hey, up for another match, bro?"
Ryu almost answered yes, but something made him pause. How many matches had he had today with Ken, anyway? He couldn't quite remember that either. For several seconds, he did not answer, plagued by half-formed doubts.
But in the end, he was unable to think of any reason why he shouldn't accept his friend's offer. The day was still young, after all. And really, what could just one more hurt? "I'm game if you are."
Ken grinned. "That's the spirit," he said. "Let's see how well you do this time."
Chun-li stepped into the cell block of the police station, giving it a quick once-over. Not too large; it had only a handful of cells. Not in the best of upkeep either; the off-white paint was peeling off the walls in many places. But all the same, walls were walls and iron bars were iron bars, and the ones in this jail looked solid enough.
Not that they were expecting iron bars to hold their current prisoner, of course.
"Have you gotten anything out of him?" asked the policewoman.
"Very little." Rose looked up from where she sat on the floor, in lotus position. "It is a delicate business, searching a mind without it realizing what is happening. Surface thoughts are easy enough to pick up, but were I to try and search his deeper memories it would be easy for him to remember those same memories at the same time."
"Which would be bad."
"Indeed. The wrong memory could make him realize that he is trapped in my dreamworld. Even as it is, his suspicions are beginning to grow."
Chun-li walked over to where Rose sat, and turned to look into the cell. The young man lay sprawled on one of the bunks hanging from the wall. "What have you learned?"
Rose sighed. "Trivia, mostly. His name is Ryu. He is a martial artist, trained here in Japan along with an American friend of his. His sensei is no longer living. I could not determine the circumstances of his death—that memory was tightly linked to the darkness inside him."
"Since his master's death he has been traveling the world, pursuing his training by challenging other fighters and learning from their battles. He has participated in a few underground fighting tournaments, winning each of them."
"Then, about two weeks ago... something happened to him. I have been completely unable to pry into that particular memory. All I know is that he made reference to his using something called the 'Satsui no Hado..' He claimed that it had turned him into a monster."
"After that event, I can read only a few scattered fragments of his memories. But from what I can gather he has been hiding out in the alleys of this city, scavenging food from dumpsters, avoiding all human contact. Until Bison managed to locate him, that is, and sent his servants to attack him."
Chun-li walked over to the cell bars, looking at the unconscious form, remembering her own experience in the warehouse, remembering him desperately trying to warn her away. "He's trying to fight what he's become," she said softly. "He doesn't want that power we saw him using."
Rose shook her head, her face grim. "A part of him doesn't, perhaps. But only a part—and that part may be in a losing battle. He wants to kill, Inspector. He thrives on it now. My power is blocking out those murderous urges for the moment... but I cannot keep it up forever. Eventually he will have to face them again."
"And what happens then?"
Rose hesitated for a long moment. Finally, she spoke. "It... may be best if we do not allow matters to progress that far."
Dead silence. Slowly, Chun-li turned back to face Rose, her face suddenly unreadable. "What exactly are you suggesting?" she asked, her voice quiet.
Rose met the younger woman's gaze without flinching. "I am suggesting that we end this threat. Permanently."
"You're suggesting that we murder him."
She hid it well, but the policewoman could tell that Rose was stung by the words. "He is a menace, Inspector. If he recovers consciousness he could kill everyone in this city."
"Maybe he could." Chun-li replied, her brown eyes boring into Rose's blue. "But would he? He has the power... but he didn't use it on me, even when we fought. Do you believe he would use it now?"
"His bloodlust is—"
"Not what I asked." There was definitely a hard edge to Chun-li's voice now. "You're the one inside his head; it shouldn't be that hard a question. In your estimation, if he were released from the illusion—after you had done everything in your power to help him calm back down—would he attack unprovoked?"
Rose glanced away. "It is... possible that he would not."
Chun-li had not risen to her current rank by neglecting her interrogation skills. Few could read the cues in a voice better than her. "Possible?" she asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Rose's lip twisted in an expression of distaste. "Probable," she admitted. "It is probable he would not attack us. At least, not immediately. What he will do in time, as those urges wear at his resistance... I cannot say."
"So what you're suggesting is that we kill an unconscious prisoner, without trial, who is 'probably' not a threat." Chun-li shook her head. "I'm not prepared to do that."
"You had better be," Rose snapped. "There may well be thousands of lives at stake here, Inspector. Even the slightest risk that he will fall is too great to accept when dealing with someone of his power."
"There's always a risk," Chun-li snapped back. "Every time you pick the right thing over the expedient thing, there's a risk. And as I see the odds, the life of someone who for all we know is an innocent is worth taking that risk."
Slowly the fortune-teller rose to her feet, her eyes blazing with anger. "His life?" she demanded, jabbing her finger in at their prisoner. "I suppose you think this decision is to his benefit?"
"What, you mean not killing him? I would think so, yes!"
"Then you're a fool!" Rose was yelling at Chun-li now, who was for her part taken aback. She had never thought she would see this mysterious woman lose her composure like this. "You would put countless lives in peril, and for what? Merely to prolong the suffering of a poor wretch like him! Do you honestly think that boy would thank you for sparing his life, Inspector? Do you have any idea what it's like to live with that kind of darkness in your soul?"
"No, I don't." Chun-li replied, softly. "Do you?"
Rose turned away, realizing she had revealed too much. "I am... My situation is... different. But I... do know something of what he endures."
There was silence for a long moment. Finally Chun-li spoke again, a note of compassion in her voice. "Be that as it may, he hasn't given up on his life yet, and I have neither the authority nor the inclination to simply kill him as he sleeps. If you want this partnership to continue, I need you to accept that... and promise me that you'll take no unprovoked action against him."
Rose said nothing, but after a moment she nodded once. When she finally spoke, it was in a subdued voice. "I will continue to investigate his memories, then."
Suddenly very tired, Chun-li turned to leave. She knew, of course, all the Interpol directives and regulations concerning the use of lethal force—knew them by heart. And she knew even more the code of justice and honor that her father had instilled in her as a child. She knew that her appraisal of the situation was sound, and she knew that her decision was the best one under the circumstances.
But all the knowledge in the world would not allay the doubts that gnawed at her. But what if I'm wrong? What if it turns out he can't control himself? What if my decision does end up being responsible for the thousands of deaths Rose talked about?
She wrapped her arms around herself, as though cold. I understand why you feel the way you do, Rose, she thought to herself. I don't agree with it, but I understand all too well.
Much later that evening, Chun-li leaned back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling of her temporary office. Returning to her hotel would have been more comfortable, of course, but she was not about to leave the station as long as their prisoner was there. If Bison launched another attack, she wanted to be close on hand.
She sighed. Her past few hours had been spent in thought, trying to come up with what her next step should be. They had captured the man that Bison was hunting. Now what? Wait for the crime lord to make another move? Keep searching the mind of their prisoner, looking for who knew what? Or should they bring him out of the illusion now, and confront that mystery head on?
There were simply too few facts, too little data to go on. All they could do for the moment was to learn more, to try and discover the best course of action. Just like always, they were two steps behind, playing a desperate game of catch-up against the crime lord.
Reaching into her pocket, she took out her wallet and flipped it open. Her eyes fell at once on the photograph inside it, the one she had carried with her through firefights and across continents. It was of her and her father, taken several years ago.
Her father's arm was draped around her shoulder, pulling her smaller form tightly against him in a display of emotion that was uncharacteristic for the normally reserved man. They were both smiling. It had been taken on the day of her acceptance into Interpol training academy, the youngest to ever make it in—then or since. He had been so proud of her on that day, talking constantly about her to anyone who would listen to him.
The memory was a happy one, so happy that it cut at her like a knife, piercing her heart to the very core. She smiled. It was either that or cry, and she had promised long ago that she would no longer do that.
What would you say if you were here, Father? she wondered. Would you still be proud of me now? Would you think that I'm making the right decisions? How would you have handled a mess like this one?
A quiet rap on the door interrupted her thoughts. Chun-li straightened up, closing the wallet and stuffing it back into her pocket. "Come in."
Inspector Takahashi entered, closing the door behind him. "Hello," he said amiably. "I just wanted to let you know, I got the information you asked for about the condition of the victims we found at the warehouse."
"Thank you." Chun-li stood, walking over toward the Inspector. "What's the prognosis?"
"Well, it seems that the big fellow, Sagat, was really the one that got off the easiest," Takahashi explained. "His leg is fractured in a couple places, and he's been beaten pretty savagely, but nothing compared to the others. The medics are keeping him under, and they're probably going to have quite a bit of surgery, but he's not in any real danger."
"What about the Dolls?"
"Ah, yes. The Dolls." Takahashi scratched his head. "They're... not entirely sure what to make of their condition. The thing is, by all rights most of them should be dead. And yet, somehow, they're still clinging to life, every last one of them."
"Bison's handiwork," Chun-li said, nodding grimly. "I never thought I'd be thankful for his experiments, but they saved those girls' lives in the end. Do the doctors think they'll pull through?"
Takahashi shrugged. "Anybody's guess, at this point. And even if they do, we don't know if we can undo whatever that monster did to their minds to make them like they are. For now, all we can do is hope."
Chun-li nodded, and made a mental note to ask Rose if there was anything that could be done for them. The mysterious woman certainly seemed more than competent in the affairs of the mind.
But Takahashi was continuing. "That only leaves Balrog, then," he said. "He didn't fare as well as the others."
Chun-li's head shot up at the mention of the Shadowlaw lieutenant's name, her face puzzled. "Balrog? I didn't see him at the warehouse."
Takahashi smiled mirthlessly. "You didn't see him because he wasn't there," he said. "Or at least, not entirely. He doesn't seem to have had quite the same resiliency that our Doll friends had, and probably not their skill either. Going back over the scene, our people found... pieces of him. Enough pieces that we're reasonably confident the rest of him wouldn't be alive, even if it were intact."
Despite herself, a cold shiver ran up and down Chun-li's spine at the words. I really hope I know what I'm doing... she thought to herself. I really hope that I'm right, that this Ryu really isn't going to fall to this kind of bloodlust unprovoked. Because if I'm wrong...
Suddenly, an idea sparked to life in her mind. Bloodlust... she thought, sitting up a bit straighter. Yes, it is bloodlust, isn't it? Why didn't that occur to me sooner?
Admittedly, it was a bit of a long shot. But far longer shots had paid off for her before. "Hold on a minute," she told the other Inspector, raising a finger to interrupt his report. "I may have just thought of something we've missed."
Takahashi's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Please, share."
Chun-li folded her hands in thought. "All right. The first time we saw this guy cut loose, it was from a distance. We didn't know exactly what had happened—just that it had obliterated an island. Then later we got impressions of an evil, destructive force. So it all fit together, so far as it went. No obvious missing pieces."
"But today. Did you notice that there was hardly any collateral damage today? He levels an entire island the first time he flips out, but the second time he barely touches anything—except for the people he's fighting. Believe me, even I could cause more destruction than he did over the course of a fight, if I wanted to."
Now Takahashi could see where she was going with it. "Which suggests he's not interested in abstract destruction, even when he is in that state. His mania is specifically directed at other people that he fights and kills. That means that he wouldn't have smashed that island into rubble just for the sake of doing it. And that means..."
"...that there was someone else there," finished Chun-li. "Someone he was fighting. Someone powerful enough that the island was destroyed just from their battle taking place on it."
There was silence for a moment, as each one digested the implications of their discovery. Then Takahashi asked the obvious question. "All right, so then what happened to this person?"
"Well, our friend in the cell is obviously still alive, and we found no bodies on the island. So I can see three possibilities," Chun-li replied. "One: our hypothetical second person lost the fight, was killed, and his body destroyed or otherwise disposed of. Two: he lost the fight, but managed to escape. Three, he didn't lose, but for some reason didn't kill his opponent either."
Takahashi nodded slowly. "It's definitely worth looking into. For possibility one, if the body was disposed by dumping it into the ocean we can search the water and the coastlines, see if any mysterious corpses have washed ashore since the day of the event. For possibility two, we can call around to local hospitals, asking if anyone came in with suspicious injuries on or around the day of the event. If this person did escape, he likely could have been wounded."
"Good idea."
"Thank you. I'll get right on it." Takahashi frowned. "But what about possibility three?"
"I don't know," admitted Chun-li. "But I hope it isn't that one."
"Why not?"
The Chinese woman sighed. "Because even though it was from a distance, I saw how that battle ended on the tape. Whatever that last move was, it was something evil. If there's something like that out there, but even stronger than this guy..." she shook her head. "No, I really hope it isn't that one."
Ryu dropped to one knee, reaching down with his hands to scoop up water from the stream that ran by the dojo. Then he splashed it across his face. It felt good; crisp, clean, cold. He needed it, needed the sharp sensation to help jog his thoughts. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
He had begged off of another match with Ken—just how many had he had today, anyway?—on the excuse that he needed to rest a bit before continuing. Ken had been disappointed, and had pressed him to continue until Ryu had become a little astonished at his friend's uncharacteristic insistence. But eventually the young American had relented, and Ryu was now free to think things over.
But that was proving surprisingly difficult to do. He tried to focus, but every time his brain managed to hold on to a thought, one of the ones he had captured before slipped out of his grasp. The sense of wrongness haunted him; it was nothing he could but words to, simply an intangible impression, a whisper in his mind that was just barely too soft to make out.
I know something's out of place, he thought, as he tried futilely to clear his head. There's something I should remember, something I should know. Something that I—
At that moment he happened to once more glance down at the stream, his brown eyes looking at his reflection there.
Glowing red eyes gazed back up at him. In the water, his face twisted into a cruel sneer.
With a start, he jerked himself away from the image, landing on his backside a couple feet away, breathing heavily. He did not know why seeing that had affected him so, but he knew beyond all doubt that it was not an overreaction. Slowly, after a few moments, he got back up and looked into the stream once more.
He saw nothing out of the ordinary, only his normal reflection. Nevertheless, a shudder passed through him at the sight.
In the cell block of the police station, Rose's eyes flew open. "No..." she breathed. "Not so soon..."
But it had been unmistakable. Brief, but unmistakable. The darkness was breaking through. She had hoped to stretch the illusion out for much longer before it came to this, to learn as much as she could before she finally made her move. But there was no more time. It would have to be now.
She readied herself, steeling her mind to the task at hand—but then paused for a moment, glancing back over her shoulder to where she could feel Chun-li's presence, just a few offices away.
A pang of guilt jabbed at her heart, but she silenced it. This was for the greater good. There was too much at stake, too many innocent lives that would be lost if the boy's will faltered—or far worse, if Bison ever succeeded in acquiring his power. No, this had to be done.
Even if the young woman whom she had begun to count as a friend would never see it that way.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered softly, her voice barely audible even to herself.
Then she turned back to face the cell, and the young man inside. Closing her eyes, she reached out once again with her mind toward his.
