Bushin Guy: Was the last chapter that short? Maybe I just had so much to write but I was too lazy to write it, hence a very compressed version of what I wanted to spit out at all you guys. As for reviewing your story, I have no problems doing it. I like reading it, actually. So no, you're not pressuring me at all. And I think it just plain sucks to find gaming soundtracks anywhere, except maybe Japan where gaming is actually a pretty significant underground culture. But I've been to the HMV on Orchard before, and from what I remember, they have A LOT of video game soundtracks. Nonetheless, good luck on your hunt.

Tao Shui: If only Ryu and Akuma's meetings were like this … then again, there would be no drama, no fanfiction, no video games – for the street fighter franchise anyway. And speaking of which, is it just me or are they taking waaaaaaay too long to come out with another official street fighter title? And I'm not talking crossovers.

E-Z B: Good to know Wagner's debut scene in this story was a good one. And I only say that because you're one of three people to say it! Thanks for your support. Now update your story faster!

Vammy: Lol, you know honestly I didn't even plan for Julian to be one of the subjects of Bison's new experiment. But then I figured – meh, we got two OC's in trouble with Shadowlaw, let's just make it three! That way there's not too few, but not too many to keep a track of either. Sides, remember when I told you this story was going to be a hybrid of my deleted stories? Remember when Wagner, Julian and Kenny faced Akuma on their own at the end of "Other Worlds"? Probably not … I deleted that story a long time ago. But yeah, this is another aspect I'm rewriting into this story.

XXXXX

The early afternoon sun was a huge weight on Ken's shoulders. More like an intense, sizzling pain as opposed to an unbearable weight, really. He shielded his eyes as he looked up at the giant glowing orb in the light blue sky – not a cloud in sight. The congestion of the crowd, the heavy traffic at lunch hour, and the summer heat was almost too much for him to bear. And he thought California had bad heat. The soft breeze whipped at his hair and his clothes, a welcome change from the heat that the leather jacket kept in. Remember that he still had it on, and the fact that it had clung uncomfortably to his body via a thin sheet of sweat, the removed it from his shoulders and back, practically having to peel off the layer of extra skin. And it was real too. Eliza would've never settled for faux leather.

The lineup was excruciatingly long. Warriors from all over the world, from countless different disciplines were enlisting for the preliminary rounds – the first set of matches that would ultimately determine who the tournament participants would be. There would be sixteen in all and Ken knew that he'd be right up there with Ryu, not a question about it.

And speaking of Ryu, Ken's friend stood in front of him in line, soaking up the sun's rays and the humid atmosphere like it didn't even phase him. The only movement Ryu's standing form made was the occasional ripple in his clothes and the tails of his dark red headband swaying in the gentle breeze.

Ken glanced at his watch. "Guile's not here yet," he noted to himself.

"It's not like him to be late," Ryu replied, acknowledging his friend's comment. "We probably just haven't seen him yet. There are many people here." Ryu's left eye twitched upon mentioning that obvious fact. Ken could understand though. Ryu had spent most of his younger years living in the secluded mountain regions of Japan, away from society, away from much human contact. He was a seasoned traveler, trotting all over the globe with the prize money he'd win every year from the Street Fighter tournaments in search for a new, worthy opponent. But right here, right now, there were too many people to look at, too many people to determine who would be a decent challenge for Ryu. It was mind boggling for a lone traveler like him.

"You're not gonna pass out on me, are you, buddy?" Ken asked, slapping Ryu's shoulder.

"I'll be alright …" Ryu said, unsure of his own words. "I just need to …"

"Meditate, yes I know." Their conversation was interrupted by a slight vibration in Ken's jean pocket. "Hold on a sec. It's probably Eliza with another one of her I-don't-want-you-getting-hurt lectures."

Ryu nodded, well aware that Ken would handle the situation with his wife in a matter of seconds. Over the years he'd dated Eliza, he had the ability to shut her up with a few sweet words. Ryu thought about mentioning the fact that Ken had a wife, and perhaps it was in his best interest to stop fighting and start having a family. But Ryu had always hesitated because he'd always known that the Shotokan discipline meant to Ken. If it wasn't for such martial arts training, there was no way he could be the man that he was today.

The cell phone unexpectedly fell from Ken's hand and crashed into pieces on the pavement. Ryu looked towards his feet in shock as people trampled over its electronic remains without a second glance. Ken hadn't moved from his spot, hadn't even made an attempt to salvage the pieces. His eyes stared blankly at his sneakers, his mouth gaping open.

"Ken," Ryu said, putting a hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest. "Are you alright?"

He looked at Ryu and tried to say something, his lower jaw moving but no sound was coming out. Ryu's heartbeat seemed to increase tenfold as time itself seemed to slow to a crawl. "Say something, Ken. Please, tell me what happened."

"J…Julian …" was the only word that escaped from Ken's mouth.

"Julian? Are you talking about your friend? What happened?" Ryu shook Ken by the shoulders, a little more violently this time, as if he could shake the very words from him.

"He's missing. They took him, Ryu. Julian's a strong guy, a good fighter, and they fucking took him!"

XXXXX

"Damn it, I'm sorry, Masters," Cranky cried into the phone. "I was probably the closest to Father Marquez. I was most likely the only one who could help him but I didn't hear anything! I just came in this morning to thank him for taking care of me when we got attacked last night and …" Cranky gulped, trying to swallow a dry wad of spit, but panic had a firm grip on him. "He was just gone! Blood splattered all over the walls of this goddamn church!"

It had been an innocent enough endeavor. Cranky was grateful to the young priest for having watched over him as he lay on the ground last night, his clothes soaking up the blood that spilled from his body. It was Father Marquez that had patched up his wounds and made sure he was alright. And the first thing he walked into was a blood splattered church. Pews had been cracked, splintered, even broken right down the middle. The candles were no longer in their rightful stands and instead lay in puddles of dried wax all over the altar, their flame having been extinguished hours ago. The ornate stained glass windows that adorned the sides of the church were smashed – every last one of them. There was barely a piece of glass that remained intact.

Worst of all though, the sight that gripped Cranky's heart with fear and guilt was the statue of the crucified Jesus, a figure that he'd been familiar all his life coming from an Irish family. He was taught that the symbol of Jesus on the crucifix was a symbol of their faith, of their duty as Catholics to spread his word, and the source of their strength. This statue of Jesus had snapped at the wrists, still nailed to their respective positions at the arms of the cross. But the rest of the body had broken loose and now stood upside down, suspended by the remaining nail in the statue's feet. The cheeks were smeared with blood that appeared to have been cried out of the statue's very eyes.

"It was probably that demon, Akuma!" Cranky said into the phone. "He's probably got Julian. I can't think of anyone else that might have a beef with him. Akuma came to us yesterday. Masters, can you hear me?" But the phone line was dead. The only word that Cranky had heard Ken Masters say was "Hello" upon picking up the phone.

Cranky began to regret calling Father Marquez's friend. He understood that the priest and the Shotokan artist were friends, but had no idea how close they were. He just felt like the right person to call at the time. Cranky was the first on the scene. There was nobody else to turn to – and informing the police right now didn't seem important. And perhaps the fact that Ken's number was written in Father Marquez's personal phone book that lay open on his desk helped Cranky with the decision. He didn't feel good going rummaging through the halls of such a sacred place, but after seeing the blood, he'd practically ransacked the entire building in search for the priest. But the search turned up nothing.

XXXXX

Wagner charged at the steel door for the thousandth time that afternoon – or was it night? It was impossible to tell the time of day in this dark, dank place. Shadowlaw may have been an incredibly rich, successful criminal organization. But it was obvious to the young airman that they'd barely spent a penny on their prisons, making the effort to make their guests as uncomfortable as possible. His shoulder screamed in pain from all the ramming, but the metal hadn't even scratched. The thing was rock solid and not budging, even under his weight.

"I'm gonna kill you fucking Shadowlaw bastards!" he yelled, burying his fist in the door, only to yank it back towards his stomach as he cradled it. He probably shattered his hand trying to break the door down. And if he hadn't, it sure felt like it. The combination of the physical and emotional agony was too much for him to handle as he sank to the ground on his knees, his forehead pressed against the door as he wept. "What the hell are they going to do with me!" But there was nobody to answer him in this place, nobody except that unconscious kid occupying the single bunk.

When Wagner had first been thrown in this cell, the kid lay unmoving on the bed. Wagner thought he might've been dead at first, but upon inspection, discovered that he had weak pulse and was probably either sleeping or unconscious. But the youth hadn't stirred for hours now – or at least what felt like hours, even with Wagner's cursing and swearing. He had to squint to get a good look at the boy in the dim light, but came to the conclusion that he had a lean build, probably a good sixty or seventy pounds lighter than Wagner himself. He looked Mexican, or from some kind of Latino background … or was it Asian?

Shadowlaw didn't seem to discriminate when it came to hostages. The ethnicity of Wagner's cell mate was hard to tell in this kind of light but he was certain that this boy was barely in his teens. He gave up trying to escape. It was more likely that he'd break himself before even taking a chip of metal from the door. Wagner walked to the far corner of the cell, opposite from where his cell mate slept and sank to his rear, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to find the most comfortable position to get some shut eye.

XXXXX

Ryu spotted Guile and Chun Li a few paces away, just beyond a line of people tightly packed together, anticipating their chance to enter the tournament and show off their skills. Ryu had Ken leaning on his shoulder for support, the latter weakened from the news he'd just heard on his cell phone. Ken hadn't spoken a word since and Ryu was afraid to bring anything up, unsure of his friend's reaction to anything he might say in this unstable state.

"Colonel Guile!" Ryu shouted over the noise of hopeful participants. "Over here!"

It wasn't so much Guile than Chun Li that heard Ryu's greeting. She looked over at him, and waved, pulling Guile along with her. He, too, seemed to be distraught, oblivious to what was happening around him. The two of them pushed and shoved their way through the crowd of people with a sense of urgency in their steps. Ryu could tell by looking into Chun Li's eyes that they had also experienced something that distressed them greatly.

"Ryu," Chun Li said, gasping for air. "We've got an emergency."

"You're telling me," the Street Fighter champion said. "We've just received word that Ken's friend, has gone missing."

"No …" Chun Li had looked like she wanted to say something but was quickly silenced by Ryu's news.

"Wagner," Guile managed to choke out, "he's gone too." Guile's words were expressed with regret and defeat, not exactly what Ryu was used to. From what he knew of Guile in their past experience fighting alongside each other against Shadowlaw, Guile was a strong man, able to put his emotions aside in the heat of battle and get the job done.

"Wagner?" Ryu asked curiously.

"It's his adopted son," Chun Li explained. "Guile raised him from a troubled teenager to one of the Air Force's finest. His office was discovered this morning, all torn up, his furniture shattered. As for Wagner himself, he's nowhere to be found."

Ryu's eyes widened in surprise. "That makes two more missing people. It hardly makes sense that Akuma would be after Julian, but now Guile's son too?"

"Akuma!" Chun Li was taken aback. "That's a name I haven't heard in awhile. Please don't tell me …"

"He's back in business, I'm afraid," Ryu explained. "Julian informed us shortly before his disappearance. Apparently, the demon confronted him and attempted to get information out of him."

"I thought Shadowlaw was responsible for this," Chun Li said. "But what in the world would Akuma want with Wagner and Julian!"

"I'll agree that it's not his style to kidnap random people. Akuma fights to win and it's just not his style to hide behind other people. This is a technique more suited to Shadowlaw."

"We'll get to the bottom of this," Guile said, speaking up suddenly.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea anymore," Chun Li advised, "not while you and Ken are in this state."

"It's our only chance at getting them back," Guile insisted. "And let's not forget that Shadowlaw also has Kenny at their disposal."

"Damn it," Ken wheezed, "there's too much going on right now. Where do we even start making things right again?"

"Well whatever we do, I think we can agree that we should stick together in this," Ryu suggested.

"Ryu's right." Guile said. "We'll stick to the plan. We can't allow Julian and Wagner's disappearance to set us back too much. One way or the other, our participation in this Street Fighter tournament is our lead in, whether it's Kenny, Julian or Wagner we're after. But I'm not gonna stop until we get all three of them back."

XXXXX

From the dark depths of the newly rebuilt Shadowlaw base near Mount Fuji, Bison was barely able to contain the childish grin that had spread across his visage. A panel of television screens were displayed before his large, caped form, each one projecting an image from specific security cameras, all of them scattered throughout the base. But there were only two that he was paying close attention to. One of them showed the darkness of a holding cell, in which two of his prize possessions were confined – Kenny, the biological descendant and the scientific research of the once-proud Shadowlaw scientist, Dr. Feng, merged into one, and Scott Wagner, the remaining member of the Wagner family that Bison had slaughtered with his own hands years ago. The boy was still recovering from his spinal tap, in which data from the Shadow Technology had been extracted to be input into the Agent Initiative. Once they made sure the data transfer from Kenny had been successfully completed, he would no longer be of any use to Bison and would be terminated. Wagner, on the other hand, would be the first to be outfitted with the combined abilities taken from the Shadow Technology and the Doll Program – the very first Shadowlaw agent of the Agent Initiative.

The other screen that had captivated the dictator was one that displayed the view from the main entrance, built eight stories underground. He had spent the last few hours in front of these screens, watching Wagner and Kenny, and the entrance for the arrival of Julian Marquez. The confirmation call had come through just a few hours ago, and Bison understood that even with the best technology available to him, it would still take some time for Balrog to return from retrieving Julian.

The boxer was the best candidate to send for someone like Julian. If anyone had what it took to stand up to the heir of a successful Latino criminal gang, it was Balrog, with his training in professional boxing and about as wide as Sagat from the powerful muscles in his body. Bison had seen Julian in action himself, back when he used to work for Shadowlaw and he was a respectful fighter in his own right. But then again, there was a reason why Bison made Balrog one of his right hand men.

"Please don't hurt my Julian," a voice pleaded in the background.

"Shut it, Daddy Marquez," Bison ordered. "I gave you my word that he wouldn't be harmed. And that's a lot, considering you work for me!" Julian's father was a real pain in the ass and Bison would've liked to sever all relations with the head of the Latin Kings, the sooner the better. But he also realized that cooperation with this gang was imperative to rebuild Shadowlaw to its former glory.

"Julian doesn't belong with Shadowlaw!" Senor Marquez insisted.

"You are the reason why he's involved with us," Bison reminded him. "But I must give you your well deserved credit in the creativity department. A Catholic priest! How far were you willing to go to hide your son from me!" Senor Marquez remained silent with absolutely nothing to say to defend himself. So Bison continued. "I must say though, he's a very good actor. And Balrog's more than a few pages short of a novel. I wonder how he was able to see through Julian's disguise."

"Please, Bison," Senor Marquez begged, "He's all I have left."

"Which isn't much," the dictator scoffed. "Not that I blame him. After what you did to him all his life … He'd probably be happy to undergo what we've got planned for him."

"I swear, if you lay a finger on him, I'll …"

"And we will kill your grandson, Dorian!"

"No, you can't!"

"But I thought Julian was all you had left? I don't take kindly to liars, Marquez. But you are amusing to me. Even still, my patience with you is far from limitless. I have the fate of you, your gang and your family in my hands. Don't say anything to cross me."

As if to emphasize Bison's point, the doors to the underground base opened to reveal Balrog's form, walking proudly in front as a few humanoid shapes moved about behind him in the shadows. The next figure to come into focus was none other than Julian Marquez, still in his priestly garb, which made Bison smirk. The man's hands were tied bound behind his back as he was escorted into the compound, flanked on either side by Shadowlaw soldiers armed with mean looking machine guns pointed at the faux priest.

His eyes fixed onto the other camera, displaying Wagner curled into the ball on the cold cement floor of his cell, fast asleep, and Kenny's unconscious form on the bed. He then looked back at Julian being led further into the compound.

"My collection is complete."