E-Z B: You know, that sounds like a pretty good idea. I think I may employ it!

Groove: I hope you don't mean I should post a story like what you suggest, in the place of this one! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story and hey, the reviews don't hurt either! But yes, I've actually had that idea before too, but I realized that the only people reading such a story would be the ones following each one of my fics all the way through from Act 1 to the end. And I honestly don't think there are any of those.

Ominae Intense action, coming right up! I've got this feeling that this story is about to start picking up the pace. I've had ample time to form relationships and drama, but I'm reaching the point where the climax should be coming up within the next couple of chapters, so stay tuned!

Tao Shui: …I highly doubt Akuma is Italian, but whatever floats your boat! I actually haven't played Capcom Fighting Evolution either. It seems like they chose random characters from these great games. But since when was Chun Li a good representative of Street Fighter 3? It's a pity Capcom never focused on the stories of their fighting games because they seem very interesting. Ah well, more space for us fanfiction writers to fill in the blanks!

Vammy T. Hawk won't be kicking the shit outta Cranky, as much as Cranky deserves it. It's just not in the big man's nature. He's a native … Mexican (?) who is at one with nature and is peaceful unless the situation calls for his skills. Since you're telling me you can't wait long for the next chapter, I decided to put this up ASAP for you! Well, I guess it also helps that I had so many ideas running through my head, I couldn't wait to get them down in writing. Hope you enjoy the drama in this one!

XXXXX

Julian Marquez stared at his hands, folded neatly on his lap, his head bowed as if in prayer. But his eyes weren't closed, and his mind was far from clear. From the eyes of an observer, he would have appeared to be in concentration at the smooth oak beads of the rosary clasped between his hands.

But the thoughts running through his mind were anything but holy. His cool, collected posture betrayed the raw emotion he felt inside. There was so much going on at once. The priest charade that was meant to protect him from Shadowlaw had backfired. He didn't want to become this religious leader, but realized it was necessary to hide himself from the organization. But he'd been so good at what he pretended to do that he became a recognized figure in the local Catholic community and being Osaka, Japan, that meant not a whole lot of people. But somehow, they were still able to track him down. Francisco Marquez, Julian's father, had worked hard and lied even more to get his son to safety – which was about the only nice thing he ever did for Julian. But all his work had become undone in the last few hours.

Secondly, Julian had simply stood there as Bison gave the order to dispose of Kenny. At the time, his instincts were telling him to jump in there and beat the stuffing out of the guards as they hauled the unconscious teenager off the floor and dragged him away. But he knew that if he moved a muscle to help, Julian would've joined Wagner on the ground. There was a war going on in Julian's mind – his conscience punishing him for not making a move when he could've saved Kenny's life, and his brain telling him that there was nothing he could've done either way … and worst of all, there was the dread. Julian only now took into consideration that Kenny was important his best friend, Ken Masters. Ken had invested tens of thousands of dollars in the kid, even cared about him, and Julian had just stood there as his adopted son was sent of to the slaughter. How in the world was he going to tell Ken?

And Cranky … the man that had so selflessly defended him against the likes of Akuma – he was Kenny's best friend, and this was how Julian had repaid his kindness? He tried to think of a thousand excuses for himself, for when the time came that he had to let Ken and Cranky in on the truth, on just how selfish he was.

"There was nothing you could've done …" he tried telling himself for the thousandth time in the last fifteen minutes as he sat in the cell and had some time to think. Somehow, the words weren't having the same effect as they had initially. Julian was sick of lying to himself. He knew better. And he would've gladly joined Wagner unconscious and broken on the ground if it gave Kenny even the slightest chance to make a run for it. He was sick of restraining himself, something the church had taught him to do, as he was the head of his church and a role model for the few Catholics in the Osaka district. But a priest … it wasn't who Julian was. All the sins he had committed in his life – his first murder at sixteen, the pounds of acid he'd dropped, the hordes of women he'd humped and dumped, and most recently, the murder of Cammy's unborn baby … he didn't deserve to be associated with anything holy. And Wagner's relentless pacing in his field of vision was driving him nuts.

"I've had it," he suddenly declared getting to his feet from the sorry excuse for a bench.

"Whoa," Wagner said, putting his hands up, "calm down, Father. I'm sure we can get outta here. We just gotta wait for the right moment."

"Wagner," Julian said, rolling his eyes. "You know I'm not a priest."

"What!" the young airman suddenly gasped. "But the uniform … the rosary …" He was at a loss of words, instead pointing a shaky finger at Julian's garbs.

"Oh, you mean this?" Julian said, dangling the rosary from his finger. "It's not mine." He dropped it on the cold cement floor. "And these clothes," he continued, ripping the black button-up shirt from his chest, popping off the neatly sewn buttons at the same time, "I didn't pay for them either."

Wagner stared with his mouth gaping open at what the good priest had done – at least, that's what he thought of the man until his sudden change of personality. "Father, what are you doing!"

"Don't you recognize me by now?" Julian asked as he stood in a white wife beater and the black pants that once served as a complimentary piece to his holy outfit. With one hand, he grabbed the collar and ripped it from his neck, throwing it down with the shreds of his shirt. "I'm the man that killed your sister's unborn kid!"

Wagner didn't say a word, taking a moment to let the shock sink in. Julian Marquez had supposedly gone into hiding, according to Colonel Wolfman of Delta Red. Wagner was so sure he'd never see the man again, and if he did, he swore to himself that Julian would pay dearly for what he did to Cammy. And to think they hid in the church as a religious leader! Oh, the irony!

The young airman suddenly launch himself at Julian, seizing the Latino man by the shoulders and shoving him against the wall with strength he didn't even know he possessed.

"You have no fucking idea what you put her through!" he spat viciously into Julian's face. "You've ruined her goddamn life! Do you have any idea what kind of bullshit she's been through!" Wagner's face was beet red with rage.

"I didn't know she was expecting!" Julian countered. "And neither did she!" But the comment earned him a solid punch to the cheek, blackening his vision for one painful moment. Julian struggled to regain his balance, but the stars he now saw were blinding him.

"You fucking punted her in the stomach!" Wagner didn't care whether Cammy was pregnant or not. The fact that someone would dare touch her after the torment she'd been through in the years of her life. "You don't do that to a goddamned woman, you slime ball!"

Julian had had enough of this bullshit, viciously sending a back hand and collided with Wagner's temple. "And she left me to rot in jail!" Julian countered. "Cammy's not the innocent little bitch you think she is!"

"Nobody talks that way about her!" Wagner leapt at Julian again, and both men tumbled to the ground, grappling with each other, each man trying to get the other one under him to beat the daylights out of the other.

No more words were exchanged at that point, only grunts of exertion and the dull thud of fists colliding with skulls. Julian landed a blow on Wagner's nose, the other retaliating with a solid punch to his eye. Julian grabbed the young airman by the neck and began simultaneously choking him and slamming the back of his head into the floor. Wagner threw the faux priest off him and landed with an elbow strike to his chest, causing him to spit a spray of blood and saliva into the air.

Both men rolled away, putting enough space between them to gather their strength and to nurse their wounds. They never took their gazes of hatred off one another, each one panting with fatigue, realizing there was no way they could overpower each other in such a confined space. Besides, they were stuck in the same boat.

"You know," Julian was the first to speak, "all we're going to accomplish is killing each other. We don't need that right now."

Wagner realized he was right. If he wanted to get out of this alive, he was going to have to collaborate with Julian, whether he liked it or not. "This doesn't end here," he said, jabbing a finger at Julian's direction.

XXXXX

Kenny closed his eyes, squeezing the hot tears out of them, letting them stream down from the corners of his eyes down the sides of his face. This was how it was going to end. The sudden impact of his body colliding with the dirt thousands of feet below was far better than dying slowly if he'd been shot, the bullets opening wounds that would cause him to bleed to death. He stood at the edge of the cliff and one more step was all it took to end it all. He shifted the weight onto his left foot, extending his right to complete the final, fatal step. His heart was threatening to leap out of his throat as he forced a breath in to keep it in as long as possible. But he was suddenly cut off by a voice.

"Kenny, don't do it!"

He froze in his tracks, fearing to turn around, aware that the barrels of the guns were still aimed at him. He was too scared to turn around, yet to scared to even move at the request of the soldier. Yes, that's what it sounded like – a plea, more than an order. The deep voice was filled with compassion.

"What the hell!" cried the other Shadowlaw goon.

Kenny spun around, his curiosity getting the better of him. The sight that greeted him would forever be etched in his mind. One of the soldiers that had led him out here turned his firearm on his comrade, battering his body with bullets, each one sending a ribbon of blood into the crisp mountain air. Kenny threw his body to the ground, covering his head with his arms, shutting his eyes tightly. The deafening roar of gunfire tore at the silence for a few seconds, and died as abruptly as it came, along with the new corpse of one of the Shadowlaw goons.

He looked up at the soldier, breathing heavily as he returned the AK-47 to his side and took off his helmet. The man had long brown hair that reached down to his shoulders, a sharp, squared jaw and a scar running vertically across his right eye. He walked over to the teen, who was still sprawled on the ground with his hands covering his head, staring back with an expression of confusion and fear. The soldier's lips widened to a gentle smile across his face as he extended a hand to help Kenny.

"W…what's going on?" Kenny stammered as he was pulled back onto his feet, his limbs still shaking from the adrenaline.

"Colonel Wolfman," the man said, introducing himself, "Delta Red, Special Forces."