Chapter 4
He stood against the cold frigidity of the late-night breeze, a silhouette— a silvery shadow hidden away against the darkness of the night. In back lay the sprawling roadways and wide avenue lanes of the major industrial metropolis, the streets and boulevards crossing and mixing to form an intricate network of stone and concrete. And in front loomed the hulking monstrosity which confronted him now, a huge mass of rot and decay, a festering brothel of rusted steel and corroded metal forced together into a mere skeleton of the munitions plant which had stood there just decades before.
"Strange…" he mouthed to himself, flashing his chest-nut brown eyes upwards along the yellowed, moth-eaten walls of the ancient factory. A cold wind blew through the thick strands of his short dark-brown hair, carrying on its breath the long-standing odor of crumbling decay which drifted so eerily about the place. Sharp. Acrid. The poignant smell haunted the scene with all the tenacity of a discontented ghost, rooting itself firmly about the rotten corpse as a stark reminder of the plant's former glory.
52375 Zheng Zhou street.
Yes. This had to be it.
The slightest hints of a frown slowly furrowed itself over the brows of the Shotokan warrior. If anything, this whole thing smelled like trouble. At this desolate place, at a time when not even the rats dared crawl out of the dark corners of their stank abodes… there certainly was nothing cheery about it. Still, if these people really knew nearly as much as they said they did,— if they really could somehow help him— then the trip would have been well worth the effort. With a sigh he looked down upon the small, wrinkled slip of paper gripped tightly in his hands.
Ryu,
You have felt it, haven't you? The anger, the pain, the fear of losing control. You don't want it but its there, always there like a sickness festering within you, ready to break out at any time. Dare you fight against the demons which haunt you? Come to Shanghai, 52375 Zheng Zhou street at 2:00 AM on the twenty-third of November. We can help you control it, Ryu.
And that was it. No name. No signature. Just a cryptic message hurriedly scrawled out on a piece of notebook paper. It was all rather suspicious, and his suspicion was only heightened by the odd time and place chosen for the meeting. Why all the secrecy? Why did it have to be here, in the early hours of the still dark morning, at a place where no one had trod for years? He would have to be on his guard. Fixing his eyes steadfastly on the ruins of the munitions plant in front of him, he slowly picked his way through the twisted remains of the chain-link fence.
Tap-tap.
And there was that sound again, that same noise which had followed him ever since he had arrived at the broken-down ruins of the factory. Was he just imagining it? The sound of movement behind him, as if there was someone watching from the shadows of the street corner. It was a soft noise, barely noticeable, picking up when he walked, stopping when he stopped. He strained his ears to listen, trying to pick out the sound from the soft humming of the wind all around.
Tap-tap.
Yes. There it was once again. This time he was sure of it. A soft tapping of feet, so light as to be barely recognizable to even the most alert of ears. Someone was definitely lurking behind him… watching, waiting, muffling the noise of his footsteps with the sound of his own. Who was it? Ryu spun around with one quick motion, turning to stare out into the darkness of the Shanghai night.
No one.
Only the empty profile of the city streets returned his gaze, the lonely pavements blushing white with the soft light of the almost unnaturally bright moonshine…
Ryu frowned to himself. His eyes were cheating him. There was definitely someone there… definitely someone watching from the sanctuary of the shadows. He could feel it now: the cold glare of spying eyes, the violent aura of repressed fury which swelled up menacingly against the darkness of the night. It seemed strangely familiar somehow… as if he had felt this before, as if he had met the same kind of vengeful energy somewhere in the not too distant past…
He shook his head. It didn't matter. Whoever was following him was obviously a professional, someone who knew how to slip and slide among the darkness with all the ease of a hidden shadow. He needed to be careful.
"Master Gouken… please watch over me…"
And with a final sigh he turned back to face the gloomy countenance of the run-down factory. Let them come, then. They would find that he was a man not so easily taken down…
Chun-Li watched him turn back around, clenching her fists in silent anticipation as she eyed him from the shadows. It wasn't too hard to keep track of him. The milky white complexion of his gi stuck out like a sore thumb against the darkness of the early morning, giving him away with just as much readiness as the blood-red bandana which wrapped tightly around his forehead. She on the other hand had dressed well for the occasion; under the cover of a jet-black sweater and matching pants she was practically invisible, her figure melding seamlessly in with the surrounding darkness as if the night was nothing more than a natural extension of her body. Only her eyes could be seen to be glimmering in the darkness. Those eyes… burning with the malevolent energies of some demonic fire… watching every movement of the Shotokan fighter with all the keen attentiveness of a lioness hunting her prey, silently stalking from the shadows of the background before closing in for the kill.
It looks like he was moving again.
And with one quick lurch she was off, dashing from shadow to shadow, seamlessly melting in with the night as she followed in his thudding footsteps. It was easy. It was too easy. He continued walking forward in his ignorance… stupid… unaware… completely oblivious to the quick and sudden danger looming up from behind. She flashed a smile of triumph to herself— a grin that could no longer be called pretty in nature or appearance, but burning forward like some horrendous monstrosity in the darkness of the night, contorting the usually beautiful features of her face into something beyond humanity.
"Baba… you may finally rest well soon… I've been waiting for this…"
Yes. She had been waiting for this. She had been waiting for far too long. All that time at Interpol… all those years of training, working, fighting… it would finally mean something now. A life of vengeance… in the end did it really matter who it was carried out against? Bison was dead. Shadowloo was gone. But at least she could have this… this final… satisfaction. She crouched under the shelter of a nearby pile of rubble, her eyes gleaming dangerously in the darkness, every muscle in her body tense with the anticipation of the coming attack. Ten years of blood, tears, and agony. It all ended now!
"It's no secret to any of us just how much this might mean to you… just don't do anything rash, ok?"
She froze. The voice of Hou Jiang suddenly rang aloud in her head, an alarm bell screaming with a final warning to her befuddled mind. And suddenly she found herself back, returned among the rusted metal and broken-down rubble of the old munitions factory.
"Wha… what?"
And she drew back, horrified, her face rapidly draining of any semblance of color which still remained. What… what was she doing? What the hell was she doing?! She stumbled backwards in sudden fright, trying her best to stifle the cry of alarm which sounded from her lips.
"Interpole just wants to make sure that you do your job right… that you don't… do… something your not supposed to…"
She tried to steady herself, but the powerful backwards momentum was more than enough to break her feeble efforts and force her violently upon the ground. She lay there for a moment, panting heavily, her breaths rushing forward with a sharp and painful gasp before being forcibly repressed by her screaming mind. She found herself shaking; beads of hot sweat ran down her forehead and along the pale surface of her cheeks before stopping to dribble as a single stream off the tip of her chin. Oh god. What had just happened?! Chun-Li covered her face with her hands, trying desperately to stop the violent trembling which ripped through her body.
"Come on Chun… calm down…"
She let out a slow, drawn-out breath, feeling the muscles of her body gradually relax with the steady rhythm of her breathing. Something… something had happened when she had laid eyes on him. A dormant fury had seemed to ignite within her; an unspeakable burst of malevolent will which had consumed all of her attention. For those few terrible moments she had wanted to kill him, wanted with all her desperation to kill this man who had destroyed everything her life had been built upon. She shuddered at the sudden feeling of intense self-disgust which worked its way into the pits of her stomach. Ten years of anger, sorrow, and guilt… so this was what her life was spiraling down to. Hou had been right.
"Come on… get up…" she hissed to herself, forcibly pushing herself upwards with a sharp gasp of pain. Relax. She needed to relax. There would be another time to think about such things, but right now she had to focus. Chun-Li scrambled rapidly to her feet, flashing a quick glance about herself for any glimmer of white which might shimmer in the darkness.
But Ryu was nowhere to be seen.
"Damn it!" she hissed under her breath. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! It looks like Hou had been right yet again; her emotions had got in the way of mission objectives. She bit down on her lip in nervous frustration, darting her eyes all around for any clues as to the Shotokan warrior's whereabouts.
And there was suddenly a small door hidden along the side of the factory, the opening slightly ajar as if someone had just stepped through it. Yes. That had to be Ryu; there was no one else nearby. With a deep sigh of relief she made her way to the darkened opening and lightly pushed against the rotted wooden surface with the tips of her fingers.
Crreeaak.
She flinched. The door swung open with a loud moaning of hinges, revealing the flimsy wooden steps of an ancient stairway spiraling downwards into the darkness. Immediately the strong acidic smell of rusting metal rushed forward to fill her nostrils; its stagnant odor assaulting her senses until a powerful sense of light-headedness forced her down upon the railings for support.
"Alright Chun," she consoled herself, eyeing the shadowy pit with a slight feeling of apprehension, "Down you go."
And she took a cautious step forward. The stairway gave a terrific crackling under her feet, and she paused on the first step, unsure of whether the whole thing would topple over altogether. But when a second passed and nothing had happened, however, she took a deep breath and carefully continued onwards, listening to the consequent creaking of the stairway with each step she took. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. There were quite a few places where the steps had broken off and fallen away altogether, leaving only a conspicuous gap glaring dangerously in the moonlight. These she jumped with some anxiety, praying that the force of her leap wouldn't be enough to send her careening through the floorboards screaming to her death below …Fourteen... Eighteen… Twenty-Two... Twenty-Eight... It was beginning to grow dark now. The thin sliver of silvery moonlight reaching in through the doorway began to waver and then disappear completely as she proceeded steadily downwards, eventually leaving her in a state of complete darkness. Shit. She couldn't see anything. Chun-Li leaned heavily on the railings for guidance and support, cautiously feeling for the existence of a step below before continuing onwards into the darkness… Thirty-five… Thirty-Eight… Forty-Two… Forty-Six… just how long did these steps go on for? They seemed to spiral on for an eternity, reaching down forever into the very pits of the earth…
But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind then the staircase ended, with her feet meeting the solid ground with a satisfying plic-plocing of shoe upon pavement. She gave a silent sigh of relief as she jumped off the last step, all too eager to take leave of the rickety stairway and the painfully loud squeaks which followed every stride. Down here it was no lighter. The darkness spread like a sheet in all directions— a natural blindfold of the deepest black far too thick to see through. She noticed that the smell of decaying metal, however, had grown oh-so-delightfully stronger, filling her nostrils with a repugnant stench so powerful that it took all of her effort to avoid coughing. Chun-Li stood for a minute in the darkness, ears alert, breathing stifled, all her attention focused on picking up any semblance of sound which might clue her in on the surrounding environment.
"There is… I've… come… see?"
She froze. A faint rumbling of sound drifted from the darkness ahead— a line of broken speech, the words muffled and suppressed, the individual syllables so silent as to be almost indistinguishable to her ears. She strained her ears to listen.
"Master… had thought… perhaps… it was the… world."
No. It was useless. The words were too distant; from here there were only the muffled droning of incoherent fragments. She needed to get closer. Taking a slow breath of air to steady her breathing, she ever so slowly began to grope her way forward through the black.
"…our efforts have been for too long… denied…"
The words were becoming more pronounced now. Fragments fit upon fragments to form at least a somewhat articulate sentence structure. But before she could get any closer she suddenly felt the outlines of a wall in front of her, blocking hope of any further progress forward into the darkness.
"Damn." She breathed silently to the heavily tainted air. The voices were coming from just past this barrier; she could clearly pick out the heavy droning of a man from the other side. Pressing a ear gently to the surface, she strained to pick up any bits and pieces of the conversation she could possibly overhear.
"Enough of this," A voice echoed from the other side. Words flowed forward in a fluent Japanese, ringing with a tone at once both determined and soft, annoyed but also strangely calm in the heavy atmosphere of the factory basement. She knew who it was right away. Ryu. "I came here to learn more about myself. If you have something to say then say it now."
"My, my, my. Aren't you the impatient one…"
And then there was a second voice. The high-pitched notes of a shrill derisive laughter rent the air— a maniacal chuckle echoing all too terribly in the dark interior of the underground. Chun-Li felt a violent shudder ripple through her body at the sound. She knew who this one was, too. The voice was only all too familiar.
"… and here I was thinking we'd have a friendly little… competition… before we got done to business. Hmmm?"
She clenched her fists in sudden aggravation, darting one hand instinctively to the small black handgun fastened around her waist. She found that her breathing had suddenly become staggered; the surrounding air all at once seemed far too eager to pour into her overflowing lungs. It seemed like Shadowloo's demise had not stopped some from continuing their lives of crime. Chun-Li gripped the revolver tightly in her hand, feeling a slight chill tingle upon the back of her neck at the thought. She had hoped never to see him again. But it looks like fate always had some cruel way of joining her with that mad man.
"Come on, there has to be a way through this thing."
And she groped along the wall in the darkness, looking for a handle, a knob, anything slightly resembling a door in appearance. Presently her hand touched upon the cold metallic surface of a small, round bulge protruding outwards from the wall, and she slowly twisted it, giving the door frame the lightest of pushes with her fingertips.
Creeeek.
She flinched again as the door similarly moaned in protest, and swung forward just enough to reveal a small, thin opening barely wide enough for an eye to peer through. Immediately a tiny stream of golden light flooded in through the open crack, illuminating the darkness with such abrupt intensity that Chun-Li staggered backwards, momentarily stunned as small bursts of red light danced upon her line of vision. She blinked fiercely for a moment, waiting until they had slowly receded before ever so carefully leaning forward to peer an eye through the opened crack.
She found herself looking at what appeared to be a basement storage facility, with abandoned crates and mold-eaten boxes all stacked up high upon one another in gigantic spiraling towers of rot and decay. Littered sporadically upon the floor here and there were the still sealed cases of unused bullet shells: wasted artifacts forever left to rot for an eternity with the left-over remnants of the munitions factory. There was rust everywhere. The brown stuff clung to boxes, walls, floorboards; and once again the familiar smell of rotting metal surged forward with a renewed intensity, flooding her nostrils until a tremendous sense of nausea swept dizzily over her.
Chun-Li blinked.
Standing in the center lane, in a small open area hedged in by crates on both sides, was Ryu. He was peering upwards, muscles tense, body erect, silent figure looming convincingly in the shadows of a nearby stack of crates. From this angle she was only able to make out the visage of his back, but if she had been able to read his features she was sure she would have seen an expression of complete focus drawing across his face, the lines contorting perfectly to form a mask of total concentration. What was he looking at? She very reluctantly followed his gaze, already aware of what would loom there in the heights of the basement chamber. Immediately her heart jumped upwards into her throat; she could feel her stomach make a quick twist and turn before flipping completely over.
Yes. It was him. There was no mistaking it. A flash of polished steel, a glint of pointed perfection— there, crouched high atop a nearby stack of boxes was the shimmering claw, the unmistakable mask of Vega.
"So what say you to my challenge, Shotokan?" he sneered now, his voice laughing with that same superior condescension she was only all too familiar with, "Surely you are not rude enough to back down from a challenge offered by your host? Unless of course…" His lip curled into a triumphant smile from behind the mask, "… you are afraid?"
Ryu only continued to stare upwards— no movement, no hint at all that he had been affected by the provocation. When he spoke it was with that same droning tone she had always heard him use, echoing calmly throughout the room in a tranquil undertone.
"I did not come here to battle, but if you put forth the invitation I will not refuse."
"Spoken like a true warrior." Vega laughed, "I wouldn't have expected anything less from the champion of the Street Fighter tournament. No wonder Bison thought so highly of you."
He didn't respond to this. Instead he simply squared himself into his fighting position, never once moving his eyes from the Spaniard.
"I've been looking forward to this, Shotokan. Its been a very long time since I have had a real test of my skills, you see, and killing simply becomes slightly less… interesting… when all the little girls can do nothing but run and shriek. Don't you agree?"
Chun-Li shivered as another cold laugh echoed resoundingly through the chamber. She gripped the handgun ever tighter in her hands, keeping a wary eye on the figure of the Spanish assassin. Vega was not someone to be taken lightly. To him the word "competition" automatically translated into "death match."
"So you will excuse me won't you," he continued with a hidden smirk, "If I am slightly… rusty? Unworthy blood has made me fat, and I hunger for something cleaner to whet my appetite. You understand don't you, Shotokan?"
Silence.
"Very well then." He dropped his voice to a dangerous hiss, "Shall we began?"
And hardly had the words escaped his mouth then he was gone, leaping forward with tremendous speed, attacking in a near invisible blur of violence and power. A blood-curding battle cry rent the air as he shot forcefully downwards, pulling back the glittering steel of his weapon to prematurely finish the match with one quick and deadly strike…
But he felt himself swinging at nothing. One quick backwards somersault was all that Ryu needed to avoid his touch, leaving only pavement to meet the hungry violence of his claws.
Plunk.
A terrific jolt ripped through Vega's body as steel met stone. The strength of the impact forced the three jagged blades deep down into the ground, kicking up a storm of dust and rock into the thin slits of his eyeholes. Vega swore loudly as he tried to steady himself, yanking fiercely on the weapon which had jammed hard into the pavement. Get out. Come on, get out! There was no time for this foolishness; his opponent was going to retaliate any second now!
Wham!
There came a sudden, unrelenting pain in the side of his head. Vega cried out as the kick struck home, feeling an instant gush of something warm spill violently from the base of his chin. For a moment his whole body seemed to swivel and contort— with his head going one way and his still pinned arm twisting awkwardly in another he looked almost comical, like some silly misshapen work of nature which should never have been allowed to leave the womb. He crumpled to the ground panting in agony, a painfully loud pounding ringing in his head.
"Get up."
Wha… what? Had he just heard right? Vega forced an uncertain glance over his shoulder. Ryu wasn't moving at all. He simply stood there eyeing him, face expressionless, body unmoving, arms pulled inwards in the usual Shotokan fighting position. He was letting him recover. A violent snarl escaped the lips of the Spanish assassin as he pushed himself upwards, yanking out the jammed claw with one ferocious pull of his arm. As if he needed any help! Ryu would regret insulting his abilities like that. Oh yes. He would make sure of it.
"A honorable fighter, aren't you, Shotokan?" He managed a wry smile behind the pale white surface his mask. Raising an un-clawed hand to feel his face, he noticed that the whole lower half had been badly damaged, with bits and pieces of white paint flaking off in all directions. The lower edge of his chin had, to his utmost relief, remained largely undamaged, with only a slight trickle of blood dribbling from his mouth.
"But unfortunately, honor does little for you on the battlefield. Before this fight is over you'll be deeply lamenting your own hospitality."
He licked his lips in apparent satisfaction, feeling the familiar taste of blood dribble warmly down his throat. Thick and syrupy, but altogether quite a bit too sour. Ah, there's the rub. He never did like the taste of his own blood very much. The sweetest vintages, after all, came only from the prettiest of girls. This Ryu character didn't look to have much potential at all. Ah well, what could you do.
"Prepare yourself, Shotokan! I will end this quickly!"
And he once again lunged forward, bracing his claw menacingly in the bright light of the basement floor. Faking upwards with a head high swipe, he swept his powerful legs down across his opponent's feet and successfully tripped him to the cold stone of the floor. But Ryu rolled to the side and was back up almost immediately, ready to parry another off-the-mark stab with a quick punch of his own.
"Ahhh!!"
Vega's head jerked violently backwards as the sickening crunch of splintering wood echoed through the air. The face! Not the face! Dodging angrily to the left, he caught another incoming punch with his free arm and twisted hard, feeling a slight pane of sadistic glee at his opponent's resulting grunt of pain. Ryu countered with a vicious fist to the stomach with his free hand, forcing Vega to quickly release the arm as he doubled over, his face lurching forward to make quite a nice target for another punch.
Ryu took full advantage of the opportunity.
And the Spanish ninja flew backwards against the concrete, hitting the floor with a loud crunching of bone upon pavement before rolling to a complete stop some ten feet away. He lay there for a moment— face contorted, breathing rushed, teeth snapping viciously together at the enormous sensation of pain which shot upwards through his arm.
"Get up."
Wha… what? Vega stared unblinkingly at the Shotokan warrior. How… how… dare he…
"Get up." Ryu repeated, not taking his eyes of his downed combatant.
And then suddenly a terrific cry split the air, an ear-splitting shriek which bounced off walls and echoed down corridors to resonate a hundred times more terrible to the human ear. Vega had sprung to his feet, a demonic light suddenly appearing to shine behind those tiny eye-holes, a renewed energy seeming to have gripped the body of the assassin.
"As I said, Shotokan, you will regret ever having allowed me this opportunity!"
He rushed forward with renewed fervor, attacking with such quickness that Chun-Li had a hard time keeping track of all his movements. High punch. Low punch. Kick. Dodge. Counter. Kick. Kick. Dodge. Counter. Ryu was being steadily fought backwards; his blocks and counterattacks looked suddenly slow and awkward in comparison to the assassin's own quickness. It did not look like he could hold his own for much longer at this rate. All Vega was looking for was an opportunity, any opening he could use to thrust his weapon home.
It came soon enough.
Ducking under a head-high kick to the face, Vega moved underneath and lunged, stabbing his weapon upwards with one quick, slashing motion. Ryu tried vainly to twist to the side, but it was far too late and far too slow.
There was blood.
An explosion of blood.
A burst, a sudden rupture of liquid from the side of his stomach.
Dripping, sloshing, falling— a river of red spilling down his robes, staining the surrounding white with a hue of dark crimson.
He fell.
Chun-Li watched him fall, looked on as his body sailed lazily through the air as if framed in some kind of horrific painting, a picture to remain forever frozen in her memory. With a sharp gasp he slammed into the ground, clutching the side of his stomach in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Red. So much red everywhere. Now dribbling down his hands, bleeding through his fingers into a small pool around his waist. She blinked her eyes at the sight.
"Did I not say it, Shotokan?" Vega laughed, his tall slender figure looming victoriously over his fallen opponent, "Did I not warn you? Honor gives you nothing on the battlefield. Mercy is nothing more than a disease of the weak minded."
Ryu said nothing. He had closed his eyes in concentration; his chest slowly heaved with each breath he took. She could see his lips moving, but no words came out; it was as if he was talking to himself.
"Don't worry little warrior. It will be over in an instant. I find little pleasure in prolonging the pain of one so… unsatisfying… as yourself. I shall make it strictly business."
Vega moved one hand upwards to remove his battered mask. The visor had done its job well. Although several small cuts and bruises ran the length of his nose and chin, his face on the whole seemed none the worse for wear. And now when he grinned… now when he grinned she could see his twisted smile— a horrible curling of the lips and twinkling of the eyes, now blinking brightly at the prospect of a fresh kill.
"Prepare yourself, Shotokan! Here, I shall do what Bison could not!"
She watched as he raised his claw precariously overhead, the horrible grin of his lips now magnified ten-fold in the light of forthcoming victory. The three blades glinted in wanton hunger as droplets of crimson ran down their length, shimmering with an evil light as they spilled slowly down onto the assassin's arm. He was ready now.
Help him.
Chun-Li blinked. A voice… a conscience had suddenly called out in her mind.
Help him.
Should she? It was her duty after all. Interpol would not like having their one possible source of information slaughtered like this.
Help him.
It was the only decent thing to do. Would she be able to live with herself after this, knowing that she did nothing while this man was butchered in front of her very eyes?
Go on. Help him.
She shook her head. No, that was just one voice, one vote. There was still yet another, another voice which couldn't help but scream in joyful glee at the sight spread out in front of her…
The sight of blood.
Her blood.
Just like on that rainy day, nearly a year ago.
Blood to run, to trickle, to bleed… to mix upon the concrete of the pavement.
But his blood now.
His life.
His chance to taste what death felt like.
Why should she help?
Why should she do any less than what he had done to her?
Yes, let him feel it.
Let him feel what it was like to lose everything.
It was only fair.
Only reasonable…
She blinked again.
"Prepare yourself, Shotokan, for the great beyond!"
And for the second time that night she found herself awoken, returned once again to the rust-strewn chamber in the basement level of the factory. What… what was she doing?! What the hell was the matter with her?! She stood there breathing sharply, feeling the fast rasps of her breaths spilling in and out of her lungs. That… that couldn't have been her thinking. What would he say… what would her father say if he could have seen her standing there, thinking those very thoughts as a scene of cold blooded murder unfolded in front of her very eyes?
That decided it. With a terrific scream she exploded through the door, leveling the firearm at the twisted face of the assassin.
"Vega, stop!!"
He froze. For a moment he could do nothing but stare stupidly from beside Ryu's crumpled body: mouth open, eyes wide, face contorted in an expression of utter bewilderment at the sudden appearance of the Chinese Interpol agent. But a second later and he had quickly recovered, straightening himself to once again flash that familiar grin across the smooth features of his face.
"Well, well, if it isn't little rabbit. What a most… gratifying… surprise…"
A truly gratifying surprise, indeed. He observed her with hungry eyes, feeling a slight thrill run up and down his spine as he took in every inch of the beautiful Chinese woman's body. What a cute little figure. Every curve and bend, every valley and slope, every arch and slant— ah… for how long had he desired to despoil that figure. To hear her scream, to hear her beg, to hear her cry… and then to watch as the blood ran thick down her neck, over her breasts, along her thighs… and to finally finish it, all at once brutally and mercilessly… quickly choking back that last stifled scream before the silence of death came to overtake her… mmmm, that would be the ultimate pleasure. Vega licked his lips at the thought. Why did she always have to deny him the enjoyment that was bound to be his?
"It is always a pleasure to see you, inspector." He greeted her now, bending his figure in a mock bow to the ground, "I trust that life has found you well since last we met?"
"Yes, very well, thank you."
She met his grin with a smirk of her own, a dry smile which reared up in challenge against the Spaniard's own. Fear was not an option, here. The lunatic thrived on the terror he inspired in others; he desired it, needed it to maintain his own bulging ego. She would not give him that satisfaction. Drawing forth all of her courage into her chestnut brown eyes, she gazed at him with an expression of absolute determination blazing across her features.
"And you've come, I assume, for me?"
"You got it, Vega." She held her smile, her grin now almost ridiculously sweet in comparison to the words which flew out of her mouth, "You're under arrest for drug trafficking, illegal solicitating, and numerous accounts of rape and murder."
"Really inspector?" his eyes gleamed dangerously in the half-light, "And I suppose that you're the one who is going to take me in?"
"That's right."
"And what will you do, inspector, if I refuse to cooperate?"
"I'll shoot you." She replied simply.
"You? Shoot me?"
"Yes, Vega. I shoot you."
At this he laughed— another high-pitched, terrible chuckle which echoed resoundingly in her ears. She couldn't help but give a slight shiver at the noise, hoping that he would not pick up on the cold shudder which rippled through her body.
"Really… you disappoint me, little rabbit." His smile twisted into that of a condescending sneer, a terrible contorting of the lips which made the Spaniard look only all the more twisted in the relative darkness of the room, "We both know that you won't shoot me."
"Oh?" She stepped a foot forward, the grin rapidly disappearing to be replaced by an expression of deathly seriousness, "I really hope you'll try me, Vega. Because an excuse is all I need to erase you from this world for good."
"Chun-Li, Chun-Li, Chun-Li. Still as predictable as always. Would you really dare to shoot someone so bound to yourself in destiny?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"But don't you?" he raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, "You and I. Hunter and hunted. One and another. Doesn't fate just always have some way of bringing us together? You, my little rabbit, belong to me."
The eyes of the Spaniard were cold— a chilled, relentless blue which bore mercilessly into her very soul. Under the glare of those eyes she couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of fear course through her, forcing yet another shudder to tear through the already tense muscles of her body. This was just another one of his mind games. To him she was nothing more than a simple plaything— some delightful little toy made for the sole enjoyment of his diseased mind.
"Why inspector, I do believe you are shivering." Observed Vega coolly, a grin of sadistic enjoyment beginning to play upon the thin lines of his lips.
"I am not… you…"
"You are afraid." He concluded, looking her up and down in an expression of vicious glee, "And afraid, I do believe, of me. But don't worry, little rabbit. I would never even began to think of harming such a cute little girl such as yourself. Not until, at least," he licked his lips in eager anticipation, "I have had a suitable opportunity to award your beauty with the… admiration… it deserves."
"That's enough, Vega!" she breathed, feeling the hot palms of her hands grow wet under the sharp bite of the handgun, "I am not some little toy for you to play with! You never could understand that this isn't some kind of game!"
"Ah… but that, inspector, is where you are wrong. This is a game, you see. This has always been a game. Interpol and Shadowloo… this is all more of a game than you wish to understand. And you, my cute little bunny," he pointed directly at her, "are indeed nothing more than a toy. A pawn, in fact, of the Shadowloo organization."
Silence. Chun-Li stared outwards at the twisted eyes of the assassin, determined to meet his gaze with a singular determination of her own. But the cold glare of those piercing blue eyes seemed to all at once swallow up her remaining resolve, melting away all her determination in one split second of time. Shadowloo… there was something sinister about the way he talked about the faded organization. In the present tense… as if it still existed… as if it was still involved in operations around the world. And that part about her being a pawn… what was that all about? Chun-Li shook her head. No. Stop. Stop thinking about it. Vega's mind games were numerous and far-reaching, and quite cleverly invited the victim to participate without the player's own knowledge. She would not fall for it this time. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she put another foot forward to meet the Spanish ninja.
"Your words are empty." She spoke firmly, holding her head upwards to meet the eyes of the assassin, "Shadowloo has long since been gone, and..."
"Oh no, my little rabbit. I am afraid you are wrong once again." His eyes gleamed dangerously in the semi-darkness, "Shadowloo is far from gone. Shadowloo is everywhere, you see, and has always been much closer to you than you dare to think..."
He smiled innocently at her, taking a small step forwards to meet her own. Ryu still lay sprawled out silently on the nearby floor: his eyes closed in meditation, his breathing sparse and shallow as if he was inflicted in some kind of self-induced sleep.
"Stay back." She glowered, retreating a step despite herself, "I am not here to play your games."
"Such hostility from such a pretty woman." He gave another condescending laugh, "Why can't you see, Chun-Li, that you belong to me? Your beauty deserves so much more than what any of these everyday trolls can give you. If only you would let me show you… if only you could taste what true pleasure is!"
"I don't want your 'pleasure.'" She replied coldly, "The pleasure of a murderer is not for me."
Vega's eyes lit up.
"Murderer? Murderer, you say? But ah, little rabbit, how ignorant you are to the ways of the world."
He reached a hand upward to refasten his mask, feeling that instinctive savagery swell through his body as the clasps fastened securely in place.
"Whereas you use the word 'murderer,' I would much rather prefer the term 'artist.'" He took another threatening step forward, "After all, there is something distinctly artistic about the sight of blood— wouldn't you agree?"
"Stop right there, Vega." She breathed, retreating another step backward, "Don't come any closer…"
"The way it flows, the way it runs, the way it shimmers," he took another step, "the smell, the texture, the taste… the way it dribbles oh-so-smoothly down from a pretty girl's face to her neck, to her chest, to her legs. A river of red, mixing and dividing, running and stopping, rising and falling as it trickles in tune with every sensual curve of her body. Yes, my dear, there is something distinctly beautiful in that."
"I'm warning you Vega…"
"Whereas other artists paint with brush on paper," he ignored her threats as he progressed steadily onwards, "I paint with claw upon flesh. Blood is the paint with which I draw upon my parchment; screams are the tints with which I color my work. But of course I don't expect you to understand such things, little rabbit. We artists are a misunderstood race…"
"Don't take another step!!" She screamed, her fingers dashing upwards to rest on the cold metal of the trigger, "This is your last chance, Vega!"
He froze, a slight smile beginning to curl along the length of the Spaniard's thin lips. How absolutely exquisite did she look standing there with her face pink, her breathing ragged, her fingers shaking uncontrollably upon the trigger of the handgun. Ah… fear always seemed to bring out the best in all the cute little girls. He would enjoy skinning his little rabbit.
"It truly is a shame that you can't appreciate my art, inspector." He spoke in an almost disturbingly hushed undertone, "But I must admit that up until now I have not been able to obtain the kind of perfection I would like in my works. However," his eyes shot glaringly towards her, "I seek to correct that right now."
And without another word he was off, lurching forwards with such blurring quickness that he had covered the distance between them with four long strides, and was suddenly looming dangerously upon her before she knew what was happening.
Blam!
Blam!
She jerked her finger backwards, felt the powerful recoil of the pistol as two deafening explosions disturbed the tranquility of the surrounding air. But it was already too late. He had her arm twisted upwards away from his face, and the bullets whistled harmlessly past to bury themselves in the basement ceiling.
"Tsk. Tsk. And I thought you almost enjoyed our little competitions together..."
He grabbed her wrist and twisted hard, listening to the resulting cry of pain with a sudden thrill of satisfaction as the firearm fell to the floor. Vega kicked at it, sending the weapon scuttling far away to the other side of the room.
"And now, my little rabbit, I shall paint my masterpiece..."
He let out a bemused chuckle as he watched her struggle, relishing in the expression of distressed surprise which drew across her eyes. Ah… she looked so helpless standing there under the strength of his viselike grip… shaking… twisting… squirming like some wounded animal trying desperately to escape before the hunter closed in for the kill. Heh. Heh. It always was more pleasurable when they struggled. He raised his claw to strike.
But an abrupt pain shot through his stomach, forcing the weapon clumsily down before he had a chance to attack. He kneeled forward breathless as Chun-Li followed the kick with another ferocious knee to the stomach, cried out in pain as he felt a sudden elbow smash into the back of his head. Vega crumpled to the ground in a disorganized heap, his masked face crashing hard against the stone of the pavement.
She wasn't so nice as to let him get up.
Bracing all of her strength into the base of her foot, she arced one leg sharply downwards into a heel drop. But with one smooth motion he had twisted around, and caught the foot in midair as it sailed for his chest. She stumbled backwards as he pushed her off, allowing him the time to leap to his feet.
"Hiyaaaaa!!"
And he rushed her again. Bracing his shoulder blades down low, he slammed into her lower body with such force that she did an awkward somersault over his head and onto the ground. Chun-Li felt a sudden warmness spill from the rear of her head as her skull snapped backwards against the hard stone floor, quickly accompanied by a loud screeching of tinny bells echoing sharply in her ears. All at once the world seemed to twist and turn; tiny sparks of bright light flew upon her line of vision.
"Ughhh."
But she didn't have time to check her injuries. Vega came out shooting like a bullet from the sky, claw cocked dangerously backwards in the ready position. Rolling deftly to the side, she felt a cold whipping of air against her face as the blades sliced on past, narrowly missing flesh to cut away a loose lock of hair instead. Immediately she leapt to her feet just fast enough to dodge another swipe, and countered with a head-high kick which left the Spaniard reeling backwards.
And now she was on the offensive, attacking with such quick ferocity that she was a blur— a mere flash of black against the factory background. High kick. Mid kick. Low kick. A storm of attacks to keep on the pressure, never allowing the assassin an opportunity to regain his footing. Vega tried to counter with a stab of his own, but she easily ducked underneath and kicked down low, tripping him off his feet with one sweeping motion.
But she wasn't finished. Another kick sent him even higher in the air, and she jumped upwards after him to slam one more side-winding foot ferociously into the side of his face. Vega's whole body seemed to twist awkwardly as he went sailing backwards against a nearby stack of crates, his head banging hard against the surface with a loud splintering of wood. A slow, tortuous groan escaped the Spaniard's lips as he slumped painfully to the ground.
And Chun-Li's eyes darted immediately to the figure of the small, black, handgun positioned on the other side of the room. There! Now was her chance! She dashed for it, reaching out with hands outstretched as the firearm grew progressively closer and closer to her eyes. But before she could reach it there came a sudden weight from behind, a powerful force which pushed her down roughly onto the stone of the floor. She hit the ground with a sharp cry of pain, found herself suddenly pinned to the floor by the knee which pressed against the swell of her back.
"Bitch! You think you can do this to me?!"
She gasped as she felt a hand pull upwards on her hair, tilting her head just enough for three shining blades to slide under the base of her chin. Chun-Li flailed her legs wildly backwards from behind, heard a muffled cry as the heel of her feet connected with the top of the assassin's spine. Vega fell forwards in agony, unable to maintain his grip as he rolled clumsily off the Interpol agent's body.
She used the opportunity to pull herself swiftly to her feet. Spinning around with one quick motion, she intended fully to bury another violent kick into the assassin's side. But as she braced herself for a fresh offensive she suddenly found the rows of crates barren and empty; only the empty shells of leftover storage containers loomed up to meet her gaze.
Vega was gone.
"Wh… where…?"
She spun quickly around, expecting to be ambushed at any moment by an attack from behind. But there was nobody there either. Where was he? Chun-Li's gaze darted anxiously about the room, her eyes searching for any flash of crimson which might shimmer in the shadows. Upon railings, between boxes, among the darkened outlines of chamber corners… no, he was nowhere to be seen. A slow frown furrowed over the Interpol agent's brows. Had the assassin turned tail and fled? Somehow, she didn't think so…
Swoosh.
A sudden whipping of air prompted her to look upwards. On top of a nearby stack of crates she caught a brief glimpse of his pant-leg: a telltale flash of red before the Spaniard ducked out of sight. He was on top of the boxes. She craned her neck to snatch another glimpse, but it was of no use— the towers of boxes were stacked far too high to peer over.
Thud.
And now she could hear him moving, his feet leaping from box to box with a heavy rhythm of sole upon wood. Where was he? Here. Now there. His movements were quick and sporadic, his leaps chosen strategically to confound her attempts to track him. All around the beating of feet rang loudly in her ears, spiraling in a chaotic circle of thuds and echoes. Chun-Li could feel her heart beat fast; her breaths quickened with each loud thump which reverberated in her chest.
And suddenly she spotted a glimpse of red cloth— a movement, a faint stirring of something directly to her left. She started.
"Kikouken!!"
There came a loud crack, a deafening roar of splintering wood as her fireball smashed into the top most heights of a nearby tower. The crate's top exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, raining down a fair shower of wooden fragments upon the Chinese Interpol agent.
But no Vega.
Chun-Li stood stock still in the soft shower of wood and sawdust, listening to the sharp gasps of her breathing slowly linger and then disappear altogether into the heavy drooping of the atmosphere. All at once the thudding of feet had stopped, leaving only an ominous aura of silence to hang thick about the scene. It was repressive somehow… almost frightening… as if the Spaniard was bracing himself… as if he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike…
"You are not very aware of your surroundings, inspector."
She felt her blood freeze cold. A… a voice… a sudden voice in her ear… whispered… close… directly from behind. It… it couldn't be. How… how had he…
And she quickly moved as if to spin around. But it was already too late. There came an abrupt, excruciating pain in the mid of her back— a sudden burning sensation, like a wildfire, shooting all up and down along her spine until the burn consumed the whole of her body. She screamed, heard her own piercing shriek ring out loud against the silence of the factory basement, echoing sickeningly like some dying animal before fading away into a mere gasp of pain. Vega's eyes glowed in sadistic glee as he watched her body lurch horribly at the impact, licked his lips in absolute pleasure as a fountain of red exploded from her back. She made as if to fall, but he pushed harder against her with his blades, so that her entire body arched sickeningly outwards as her weight fell backwards against his weapon. She was impaled on his claws.
"Mmmmm… such a delicious little scream."
Chun-Li felt the blades jam even deeper in her back, bit down hard on her tongue to restrain another shriek which threatened to burst upon the threshold of her lips. She tried to twist away from the assassin's fatal grip, but it was useless. All at once she could feel her strength ebbing away; her sight was blinded by the shower of tears which threatened to burst from her eyes.
"Do not struggle, little rabbit." Vega spoke softly as he undid his mask, "You'll only make it harder for yourself."
And she felt the warmth of his hand wrap around her neck, pushing her head lightly backwards until it was level with his own. He was close now. So close she could feel the hot air of his breaths play upon her neck, could sense the gentle pressure of his fingers pressing against her flesh. She shuddered. There was no doubt in her mind of what he was about to do.
"Such soft skin…" the gentle hiss of his voice whispered into her ear, "So fine… so delicate… I hope you'll enjoy this, inspector. I know I will."
She sensed his hand move down to the nape of her neck, felt the touch of his fingers dance gently upon the flesh of her collar. And as he did so he jammed the cold blades of his claw ever deeper into her body, pushing so that it took all of her willpower to avoid letting out a fresh cry of agony. And now his fingers were sliding further down… down, down, past the rise of her chest, falling to touch upon the fabric of her stomach… and now abruptly rising again, upwards to loop under her sweater, stopping to press itself flat against the bare flesh of her belly…
"Don't touch me!!" she heard herself scream, felt her body writhe in disgust at the assassin's touch, "Don't you dare touch me!!"
Vega only grinned.
"Still so tense, inspector? Why not relax a little and try to enjoy your final moments on earth with me? I promise you, I'll make sure these final moment are also your most… intense…"
"I'll… I'll kill you…"
"Oh, I'm sure." He gave another laugh, "But I don't think you're in any position to be making threats, inspector, so please excuse me if I don't take those words all too seriously."
It… it was too much. She couldn't hold it back anymore. A flood of tears poured down her cheeks as she felt his hands move ever upwards to her chest, the fingers now pausing to linger slowly along the soft cotton surface of her bra strap. She wanted to cry out, wanted with all her soul to scream out the sickening sense of personal violation which swelled through her body; but all that managed to come out was a pitiful little squeak of a voice, a mere shadow of the repressed shriek which screamed aloud in her mind. She stood there braced against Vega's claws— unmoving, helpless, as he toyed with her like some simple child with his new favorite plaything.
"Cry, little rabbit." His soft voice breathed gently down upon her neck, "Yes… cry… just like that. Let your tears flow down. Let them bath your face in the gentle light of their sparkle. I want to frame this picture forever in my mind… to see the hatred, the anger, the fear… to remember that last look of terror upon your features before you fade away. So go on and cry, little rabbit. Cry for me."
His last words seemed to stretch and contort; the individual syllables mashed and mixed together to form a near incoherent line of broken speech. She was well aware of the increasing blurriness which was beginning to plague her vision, could feel the ever growing sensation of dizziness which assaulted her head. The blood ran thick down the curve of her back, soaking through her pants, dribbling down her legs to gather in a small pool of red around her feet.
So this was how it was all going to end.
Chun-Li… recalled agent for Interpol… raped and killed at the age of twenty-five… a failure to her values… a failure to her father… a failure to herself. She supposed she ought to be upset at it all; but strangely, she found that she hardly cared about dying at the moment. After all… what could death do to her? What could death possibly do to her?! Relieve her of this pain, this hate, this guilt which haunted her every day of her life? No, death could do nothing. She would be waiting there laughing— laughing as it swallowed her up just as it had swallowed up her mother, her father, her childhood. Maybe if it came fast enough she wouldn't have to live through Vega's torture, or witness this humiliation of being raped.
No.
Stop.
There she went again.
There she went… again denying her father's memory.
Denying his values, his love, his dedication.
Everything he had ever taught her— gone with one clean sweep of the slate.
Courage, hope, determination.
These were things he had told her to keep sacred.
Had she really forgotten it all?
Was everything really gone?
"Baba!!"
And she screamed… a horrible, piercing cry which echoed out resoundingly against the silence of the chamber walls. Chun-Li flailed her arms wildly to the side, swinging at something, anything which might still give her a fighting chance against her assailant. If she was going to die she might as well die with dignity, die fighting for everything her father had taught her to believe in!
"Oh, what's this?"
Vega gave a taunting laugh as he pulled backwards, easily dodging the clumsy storm of attacks which beset him from all sides. My, my, she was a stubborn little girl. Even now when he had her so firmly in his grasp, even when she was so close to the edge of death… she still somehow managed to struggle against him. Heh. Heh. Very well then. Let her waste her remaining strength. She would need a miracle now.
But a miracle was just what she got.
"HADOU-KEN!!"
What happened next was a blur, an almost incomprehensible chain of events which barely registered to her befuddled, blood-deprived mind. There was a flash of blue, an explosion of light, and suddenly she found herself sailing through the air, flying as if pushed by a quick and sudden force from behind. A loud scream echoed in her ears as she hit the ground; but this time, the voice was not her own. What was happening? She pushed her upper body upwards to sneak a peak, felt the sharp pain swell agonizingly through her back as she dashed her eyes around the room.
Through the thick haze of her vision she was vaguely able to make out the figure of the Spanish assassin, his eyes wide open in surprise, his body sprawled out on the cold stone of the nearby floor. He tried to scramble upwards, but hardly had his feet met the ground then a terrific kick sent him flying back down, contorting his body in a chaotic heap to the floor. There, with leg braced upwards beside the assassin, erect body seemingly none the worse for wear, stood the stolid figure, the determined countenance of Ryu.
And that was all she was able to see. The dizziness swarming in her head was beginning to grow more intense; her sight blurred so badly she could only make out patches of red and white color swimming along with the movements of the fighters. She… she couldn't hold herself up any longer. Her strength ebbed, her arms gave way, and with a sharp gasp of pain she collapsed weakly to the floor.
But that didn't mean she couldn't tell what was going on. All around her the sounds of battle swelled— the cracks and thuds of kicks and punches mingled loud with the heavy sighing of her own breathing. Screams, grunts, yells… they all at once seemed to rush in a chaotic tumult to her ear, mixing and blending with one another to form one terrific screech which shot painfully through her mind. How long did she lie there for? One minute? One hour? She couldn't tell anymore. Her mind was slipping into a deep state of semi-consciousness; all her thoughts seemed to glide and float on a clouded dream of reality.
But eventually the sounds faded away; the shrieks and curses of the Spanish assassin died away to be replaced by an almost unnatural aura of silence. Was… was it over? She tried to lift her head to see, but found that the muscles of her neck were no longer responsive to the indistinct commands of her brain. Weak… she felt so weak. She could still feel the blood dribbling heavily downwards from her open wound— each droplet of red was a drip of her life spilling outwards upon the floor. Soon all the warmth of her body would vanish to be replaced by a deathly cold, a chilling testament to the lifeless corpse which would soon take the place of the young girl who lay there now.
"It looks like you're hurt pretty bad."
And there came a sudden voice from above her: a soft, gentle whispering of words which glided smoothly against her ears. It… it was him again. Ryu. He had a hand on her shoulder.
"Here, let me help you."
Help… help her? Help her?! N… no. She didn't need his help. She didn't want his help! Not there! Not then! Not from him!!
"Just relax. I'll get you out of here."
No. No! NO!!! It wasn't going to happen again! Not ever again!! With a scream of anguish she tried to twist around to face him, but found that her muscles were still unresponsive to her brain's commands. How… how dare he?! How dare he do this after all he had done!!
"Get off me!!"
She tried to scream, tried to shout out the pain and suffering of all these past months to his ears. But the words came out in an intelligible babble; her tongue seemed to stick at once to the roof of her mouth. And now he had her twisted onto her back, had one arm cradling her head as the other shot under her legs, lifting her high up into the chilliness of the factory air. It was happening again. All over again.
And for a moment she thought herself once again on the battered streets of the tournament semi-finals— her voice gone, her body broken, her hopes and dreams shattered violently into a million tiny pieces. Helpless. She was so helpless. Now, just as then. Now just as ever. A wetness fell upon her cheeks, dribbled down the side of her face to hang precarious upon the tip of her chin. Tears? Or rain? Rain to wash away the remainders of her dreams, to sweep down the broken fragments forever into the blood-stained waters of the sewage drains.
And everything happened just like before. The haze of her vision darkened into nothingness; the sounds of the world disappeared into a tranquility of silence. The light faded. The day once again ended. And for the second time in her life, the night closed in with Chun-Li asleep in his arms…
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Phew. Finally got chapter four out. This one took a lot of effort and a lot of time, but to be honest, I'm completely confused about how it turned out. On the one hand I like it a lot, but on the other hand when I reread certain parts of it I feel like slamming my head through the wall. It's hard for me to judge my own work, so please please give me an honest review of the chapter if you have the time.
Also, I'd like to give a shout out to everybody who's already reviewed. Thanks a lot. Your support tells me that people are reading this, and helps motivate me to write more. Thanks once again.