The rain splattered heavily on his extended arms, fists just a few inches from his own face. But the demon paid them no heed. The rain poured down in relentless torrents, as if trying to beat him down with the might of nature itself behind them. But he stood against their power, and other other form of energy that dared challenge that that flowed in his veins.

Satsui no Hadou ...

The old man, standing hunched over, spurting blood from his mouth was the same man that dared challenge that power. And now he was facing the consequences, but not as a direct result of the Satsui no Hadou.

"You are weak, Gen," Akuma muttered. "This isn't like you. You are ... dying."

"Such is the fate of one that wields the Satsui no Hadou," Gen replied. "I, too, am one of its carriers. I have accepted my fate. And I want to make what little life I have left count. And only one thing would bring me that kind of satisfaction."

"You will never defeat me," Akuma said. "You are a diseased ridden mortal. Had you embraced the power you inherited ..."

"It is because of the Satsui no Hadou that I am dying, you fool!"

Akuma scoffed. "You are obviously too withered to even contain such might. Perhaps your death might be a blessing to you ..."

Gen's body streaked forward with a blur of light, faster than any human could move, let alone a man of his age. Any normal person would've at least blinked at the sudden move, the flash of light. But with one as refined and skilled as Akuma, the strike was not unexpected and had been effectively blocked and countered instead.

The demon buried his fist into the chest of the fragile looking old man, knocking him into the ground almost effortlessly.

"You've had multiple chances to slay me in the past," Akuma said, as his opponent struggled to pick himself up from the ground. The demon stood proudly, his thick arms folded across a muscular chest. He made no effort to move, no effort to guard himself, though the martial arts master Gen struggled to get back in his feet, hatred seething from between his teeth.

"Even if you kill me today," Gen said, "you will eventually die at your own hands, if you continue to embrace the Satsui no Hadou."

"I would kill you," Akuma replied, "if you were of a real threat to me. But ..." A small grin spread across the demon's face. "I'd like to preserve your meaningless existence for a little longer. Toy around with you until the opportunity to face my true equal reveals itself ... M. Bison, wielder of the Psycho Power."

Gen's eyes widened at the audacity of Akuma's announcement. "M. Bison ... you're not thinking ..."

"A true warrior pursues nothing but his own victory against anything that dare challenges his might," Akuma replied. "And without a doubt, M. Bison is willing to test his Psycho Power against the Satsui no Hadou. He is flawed, relying on his own man-made energy to fight. Word has it that Shadowlaw is hosting the new Street Fighter II tournament taking place. He will know his place soon enough."

As Akuma's form vanished into the darkness of the rainy night, Gen whispered after him quietly. "As you will know yours."

XXXXX

Deep in the mountains of rural Thailand, within the rocky mounds that stood proud and tall against the horizon, a sharply contrasting structure of steel and cables were erected just a mere two years ago, and had since served as one of Shadowlaw's main bases of operations. The base consisted of narrow, twisting corridors with various rooms serving various purposes - experiment rooms, jail cells, quarters for soldiers, and most importantly, M. Bison's throne room.

And that was where Sagat was headed right now, with a young teenager in tow. Sagat walked tall, chin tipped up looking straight ahead as he swung his massive arms by the sides of a thickly built torso. Standing a full two feet shorter, and a whole lot skinnier with a more youthful, innocent looking face, Kenny walked with his head down, his arms in front of him, bound together at the wrists with plastic twine. It perfect, really, for keeping him tied. The plastic was strong, yet lightweight. He'd already given up struggling. Unnecessary movement only caused the sharp edges of the plastic to cut into his skin. The area around his wrists where they were kept bounded was already red from all the cutting and scratching.

"What are you going to do with me?" Kenny asked, although he already had a good idea in mind. This was the second time within a year he had been taken to the headquarters of some strange evil organization just because of the Shadow Tech's curse – the first time the Umbrella Corporation, an American Pharmaceutical company illegally dabbling with bio-organic weapons of mass destruction. How he wished to know what it was inside him that could contribute to that. Even more so, he wanted it out of his body and out of his life. Perhaps then he would be left alone.

"You will not be harmed," Sagat replied. "Bison has no interest in laying a finger on one of his most prized possessions."

"Fine then, what is he going to have me do?"

Sagat grinned broadly. "You'll find out soon enough."

Kenny was led to a darkened jail cell built right into the wall of the structure. Lining both the left and right walls in this dark annex of the building were cell doors, all of them made of thick steel, bolted shut with electronic locks. There was no way he was going to get out of his cell if they so much as thought of putting him in there. There were noises down the hallway. Either the jail cells were free of occupants, or they were just soundproof. The thought of soundproofing jail cells scared Kenny. What reasons would they need to do that? To muffle the screams coming from prisoners on the brink of insanity? Or was to muffle the cries of torture?

The door slammed shut behind him, cutting off all light from his vision. Kenny gulped in fear, realizing that it was completely pitch black in here. He held his hand inches from his face, yet could see no movement. There was no telling what was around him, nor how big the cell was. He stretched his arms out and fumbled his way in the dark, hoping to find some kind of structure to support himself on. And if there were none, he supposed to floor could do.

XXXXX

Interpol Agent Chun Li half-heartedly poured herself another half a cup of dark coffee. Nice and strong, that was how she liked the stuff - usually. But tonight, she'd had enough, but she was well aware that it was a necessity if she planned on making it through the night.

The pile of paperwork sitting on the desk in her cubicle in the Hong Kong Interpol Office would've struck fear into the heart of even the most experienced secretary. And it scared Chun Li too. But she took on the task diligently, taking it one sheet at a time. Most of the files were nothing of major importance, in Chun Li's book, anyway. She was used to dealing with Shadowlaw related material, but most of the scrap paper here were reports on petty thievery, vandalism, missing people … hold on a second.

It was a 2x4 inch photograph that caught her eye, neatly paper-clipped onto the sheet behind it, depicting a face on shot of a youth that looked vaguely familiar. He looked about fourteen to sixteen years old, short black hair, narrow eyes and a skinny neck. The expression on the teen's face was tired, his eyes looking at lens of the camera half closed. Chun Li read the name on the sheet – Kenneth Feng … That was a name she hadn't heard in awhile. She scanned Interpol's information on him – first went missing at the age of six years old, located by the street fighters during the Alpha tournaments, kidnapped by Shadowlaw … But Chun Li needed no reminder. She was there when it happened. She was one of the Street Fighters, working alongside warriors with the likes of Ryu, Guile, Ken, and her comrade Charlie, to rescue Kenny from Shadowlaw's clutches, at the same time ending the evil organization's reign of terror. Though Shadowlaw was brought down, the mission was considered a partial success. Kenneth Feng was killed during the infiltration stage. Yet, why was his profile sitting on her desk? More importantly, the child who died that day was a mere six years old – this one was a blooming teenager. And they both had the same name, same ethnic background … was this some kind of sick coincidence?

The incessant ringing of the telephone tore Chun Li's attention away from her work. The black phone was placed at the far left corner of her desk and she groaned having to reach the table's length just to get it.

"Agent Chun Li speaking," she greeted gruffly. She was surprised at her own masculinity sometimes, so she cleared her throat. "Oh Guile, you couldn't have called at a better time."

From the other end, "Is something wrong, Chun?" the American military pilot, and long time friend asked.

"Not with me, no," she replied, "but I sense some foul play here."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember nine years ago, we helped to take out Shadowlaw, right?"

"Yeah, but there are rumors about the organization resurfacing."

"Do you remember little Kenny?"

Guile's tone changed a little. He spoke both fondly and regretfully at the same time. "Yeah, I remember him. Poor kid."

"I've got a missing person profile in my hands," Chun Li explained, "and this guy has the same name."

"Kenneth Feng?"

"Yeah. And what's more, it says here that he's fifteen years old. That's how old little Kenny would be had he survived the explosion at the base."

"There's always a possibility that there's more than one."

"There is," Chun Li conceded, "but I'd like to look into this matter a little further."

"You'd be wasting your time," Guile said, trying to deter her. "We all know he's dead. What does it matter?"

"Because I don't know that he's dead," she retorted. "I never actually saw him die."

"We did," Guile shot back, "and that's what you have to go by."

"Just before you came running out of the base, Sakura and I ran into Sagat. And he had Kenny on his shoulder. The boy looked healthy and he even spoke to us. That was the last account of someone seeing him. He's not dead."

"I'm not going to bother arguing with you about this, Chun," Guile said weakly. "I thought I had a thick skull. If the fact that I saw him die won't even be taken into consideration, then I give up."

"But this profile here," Chun Li said, gripping it tightly in her hands, "this is what's going to prove me right."

"So what if you're right? Assuming Kenny could still be alive, what good will it do for us? Prove the flaw in our abilities to keep track of people?"

"If the Street Fighter tournament is really being hosted by Shadowlaw as the rumors state, then that would mean they are back in business. And if they really are back in business, it will only be a matter of time before they decide to reclaim what's rightfully theirs – the Shadow Technology inside Kenny's body."

"What makes you think they'd be so interested in getting it back?" Guile drilled. "The scientist responsible for the creation of that technology betrayed them and went and hid it in his son, Kenny. Why would they want to taint their reputation by reclaiming something created by a scientist that betrayed them?"

"Shadowlaw is a criminal organization," Chun Li reminded, "not some kind of society bound by samurai loyalty. They could care less who developed it. The fact is the technology is powerful stuff. Don't forget, Guile, and both Charlie and I experienced its abilities. And between us, I was the only one who lived to tell about it. Knowing Shadowlaw, there's not a doubt in my mind that they would want to take it back."

"And what if this Kenneth Feng here happens to be a complete coincidence?"

"Then at least I can say made sure that our Kenny is dead. I don't want to leave that to fate, Guile. I want to make sure for myself! And with Bison out there … that's a risk I'm not willing to take. Help me track him, Guile. Please."