Chun Li turned on the radio, the familiar strings of an electric guitar echoing throughout the tiny hotel bedroom. It did have a bathroom. The shower head resembled the head of a lion. At first, the Interpol police officer thought nothing of it.
It could have been an eccentricity of the architect who had designed the décor of the 1970s 3 star hotel. Chun Li Xiang was a very down-to-earth woman. At least, ever since her father had "perished", a little of her cheerful self had faded. Yet, she tried to walk around with a smile in the office.
Normally, she wouldn't have walked into a hotel merely because her friend Cammy had wanted to have a night out so they could both relax. Checking her friend's letter, the martial artist sighed, one hand placed above her round chin.
It did have Cammy's elegant, stylish handcrafting. Chun Li had studied psychology, and one of her many subjects she have had researched were psychopathic tendencies in handwriting. There was something off about the MI6 agent's handwriting. Those weren't the usual swirls in her s's and p's. She also saw an unusual use of connectors, something psychopaths were known to use in sentences. Then again, people with Autism were also diagnosed with a lack of knowledge how to form simple and structural paragraphs.
It was obvious Cammy would inherit the monster's handwriting. From a scientific and psychological point of view, she had M. Bison's DNA. Chun Li had known cases of children of infamous psychopaths who had only inherited their fine motor skill problems.
Shaking herself from those horrid memories, Chun Li began to undress herself from the t-shirt and skinny jeans. It have had been a pain finding jeans that fit her thighs. The "Strongest Woman in the World" indeed – she'd had to restrain herself from slapping one of the female clerks at GAP that she should go into a diet if she truly wanted to save money. Naturally curvy muscles wasn't fat. If those high-school dropouts pretended that wasn't the case, Chun Li pitied them for having to slave away for their narcissistic parents.
Not every parent was as understanding and as caring as her father had been.
Glancing at the jeans, the Interpol officer had to sigh as she began to take off her short stockings. Sewing wasn't her forte, but she had begun to take on a few online classes. That came with the fact most police forces required women to wear ceremonial or formal uniforms. Yet, she thanked the heavens for Hong Kong's liberal policies. No matter how elastic gym pantyhose were, she couldn't just wear those everywhere.
Taking off her bra, Chun Li giggled. The red colour of the rooibos and ginger tea swirled as she poured some to her favourite Looney Tunes mug. It was round, yellowish and it had one of her favourite characters on it. It was the only object she had managed to savage before her father's supposed death. Chun Li often cleansed it carefully with an alcohol and antiseptic mixture. Being part of the police force, she had learned a few hacks from her male colleagues.
Caressing the cup, she sipped a little, the warm and tangy mixture relaxing her.
Look at me, thinking about normal things like bra sizes and tight stockings ripping. That's a few more points…Thank you, Ryu…
The older martial artist had once said to her she should appreciate the normal things on her hectic life. Normally, that would reflect her own fighting spirit. It truly did.
Opening the shower, the police officer checked in. It was an instinctive and almost irrational reaction. It was as though someone could be hiding in the shower, like a boogieman.
Or a psychotic Spanish bull matador with compulsive issues. Chun Li thought bitterly while narrowing her eyes.
A dark and velvety voice haunted her dreams. His voice – the man who had threatened her friends' lives. There was someone else. The man who proclaimed himself to be a nobleman, but had little to no honour to speak.
She could feel those sapphire daggers staring at her from the mirror…It was merely an illusion. She said to herself while shaking her head.
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder had been something Chun Li had been used to deal. Yet, she could never shake the shiver and the black knots tightening the bile in her stomach whenever something triggered those. Whether it was a man in a traditional Chinese navy uniform or a blond man walking in the street, she normally took a Valdispert and that was the end of it. Roibos tea, like the one she had been taking, also helped.
Taking care to wash herself – self care was also a manner to deal with all her scars – the young woman noticed a small and crimson wrapped gift hanging from a golden silken-like knot on her cloth hooker.
Free massage and SPA pack
The words in simplified Chinese taunted her.
Slamming the window open, her heartbeat racing, Chun Li didn't even bother to cover herself. Her tunnel vision only registered the red light of a nearby drone's camera flying.
'You've got to be fucking kidding me!' She screamed into the night air in English. 'You don't scare me, you old fart!'
Sighing, Chun Li shut the windows; this time making sure the lock was perfectly shut.
Rushing to the telephone, she began to dial a number she now knew by heart – the bomb-diffusing unit from Hong Kong police.
'Hello…? Detective Xiang speaking. Could you please head over to my hotel room and dispose of something that was left here…'
'Xiang…Are you sure you aren't being paranoid? It has been…two years since Shadaloo reared their ugly heads.'
'I know, Sergeant. Do come by…Someone just decided to offer me a gift via a drone. Considering I'm in the third floor it's very suspicious the Hong Kong Air Force didn't detect this object.' Chun Li struggled to keep her voice level. Dear Lord…If she had managed to capture a photo of the drone, the Interpol could have zoomed it. Nevertheless, she hadn't imagined that.
'All right…it will take a while for me to deploy a third of my men. Be sure to be on the lookout, Xiang.'
That was a polite sentence for "I think you need to get some rest and no, I won't send my men over a wild goose-chase."