Will and Fate
By Jeremy
Chapter 11
August 14, 1997
He had been planning on fighting. In fact, he had been eager to taste the combat flavour of Limerick, to know the tricks that were standard in these streets, as well as the tricks that were enticingly local. He was being served right now. He was about to gain that knowledge. He simply didn't think it would come so fast - or in so deadly a manner.
The five goons were advancing, each assuming a solid offensive stance. Can't pick up their style, he thought, its just a mix of things they learned. The three at my back are pretty undisciplined, the weakest of the lot. He tightened his defense, preparing himself for the assault. None of them, by themselves, would be a danger, but together - the one behind me. Change in his feel. He'll start it and trigger the others.
A moment later he heard a cry behind him, and a soft shuffling of feet. He felt the kick coming at his head as well as if he had been looking - and ducked at the last moment. The guy went over him, strtled, unbalanced. Jeremy crouched and swiped the feet from another adversary, threw an upopercut at another, using his spring to give as much strength in his shot as possible. The first man regained his feet within a few moments, but the other was sent flying by the strength of the punch.
Silently, he started to draw in his chi, to feel it flow from deep within his spirit to his body...
He knew he couldn't let himself be surrounded, or he'd be unable to maneuver. Only one grunt stood in his way, preventing him from exiting the backstreet. Quickly, he formulated a plan. He attacked the still-untseady grunt with a flurry of punches, jabs and vicious kicks, using tricks from Storm's Fang, Kyokushin and MI6 Training to his advantage, using a bit of chi to augment the strength and spped of his attacks.
The grunt - not old, no more than twenty-five - was good. He probably could handle the average martial artist. But not a champion. And Jeremy was even stronger than a champion. His defense allowed him to block the shot to the face, but he wasn't quick enough to see it had been a feint, lacking any power. As he blocked, the SCD martial artist threw a succession of chi-augmented punches to the guy's stomach, reaching upward to his solar plexus. He coughed, choked out of breath, but couldn't help but clutch his stomach convulsively. Jermy threw a roundhouse kick at his head, and it knocked him into the wall. The thug was uncouncious before he hit the ground. Swiping his feet in a wide kick to keep the other three goons at bay, the young street fighter broke into a run towards the exit. He heard growls and shouts behind him, and feet pounding the concrete, giving chase.
Just like he intended them to do.
He knew they thought he was trying to escape. They were dead wrong. Without warning, using instincts honed during fourteen years of training under great masters like James and Mattew Storm, Giorgio Castillo and even Steve Hemmerson, the grey-eyed youth turned around and sprang in the air, bringing his knee in front of him.
They hadn't expected that, weren't prepared for it. Barely two meters behind him, they barely had time to register the attack, never to slow down. Jeremy had aimed in the middle, and he collided squarely with the grunt right behing him. The momentum of both person transformed the precarious attack into a deadly one, as when Storm's knee met the thug's face, it didn't just hit it - it CRASHED on it. Jeremy distinctively both heard and felt the breaking of bone, and saw blood fountain from a mangled mass that had just seconds before been a nose. The poor schmock was hurled over ten feet backward, landed with a thud, and did not rise again.
He landed himself, shaky but giddy with the way this fight was going. There assholes! That's three of you! Now for - His train of thoughts was interrupted when he felt pain blossom through his left side, making him gasp. A kick. From one of the other two guys. They had recovered from their surprise far quickly than he had thought it possible. A costly mistake, one he should never had made. His grandfather would be shaking his old head in disappointment at that.
He tried to recover as best he could. Blocked another kick aimed for the side, but failed to stop the skull-cracking punch that the other guy sent. He saw stars for moment, and tasted blood in his mouth. He spat it, but before he could regain his fighting stance, one of the two grunts held his arms behind his backs, and the other started to lay into him in all his strength.
Punches flew at his face, his chest, his stomach. He used his training and most of his chi to keep away most of the damage, but his strength was starting to diminish. In a rageful moment, he wished Cammy had come with him. Together they would have taken care of these five AND their leader without a problem. He squashed the thought as selfish, but it lingered at the back of his mind.
Then the guy who held him made a mistake. He spoke.
"Yeah, kick the crap outta him, Dell!" he said nastily.
That gave him the exact position of his opponent's head and when 'Dell' came swinging at his face next, Jeremy twisted and ducked so that his captor received the blow head on. There was a cry of surprise, and the hold on Jeremy's arms slackened. He broke free easily, grabbed the stunned man behind him, and promptly thew him into 'D ell'. The guy only uttered a curse before receiving the man-sized projectile. Both thugs fell to the ground.
The SCD Agent never let them get up. One firm kick to the side of the head of one, two powerful punch in the face of the other, and both were seeing birds in all shades of colours. Sighing in relief, the young man inspected himself. Some bruises. One or two scratches. Nothing broken. Good. He looked around, saw the leader of the group, who had by now lost his confident smirk and actually looked distressed when Jeremy gave him a cold, level look.
For one moment the young Storm thought to leave it at that, but quickly forgot about it. This was a prepared trap. More than likely, someone was watching. If he didn't take down the WHOLE gang, it might be like showing weakness. And I can't have that now, he decided grimly. He walked towards the leader, his whole body aching and tired, but not letting it show in his manners, his face or his speech.
"You know," he reflected, "If I were you I'd be turning around and running for my life. I'll let you, don't worry about that. You might well do it - after all, you never helped your pals out there." his tone turned cold and nasty. "If you stay and fight, you should know I'll be pretty hard on you. I'm tired, I'm hurt and, unfortunately for you, I am EXTREMELY unhappy."
The leader looked uncertain, considering his options. But then pride crept into his expression, and his eyes flashed. He took up a fighting stance. Practiced. Tai-Kwan-Do. Brown or even black belt. This guy was a good strong notch over the other five. But he was several notches below most fighters the SCD had to offer. And Jeremy happened to be one of the best of those.
"I won't turn my back on some damn kid who's gotten it lucky!" The leader spat viciously. Jeremy shrugged indifferently.
"Your loss, you trash." he said, taking his own fighting stance - the relaxed mix of karate and judo, created by his grandfather long ago to prevent opponents from pinpointing the style. The young fighter gathered all of his chi this time, knowing, depite his confidence, that he had to give it everything he had before the exertions overtook him.
The leader lunged at him, using an attack centered on powerful, long-ranged kicks - standard in Tai-Kwan-Do. Jeremy blocked them, wincing as his weakened arms barely handled the impacts. He knew he had to do something, and do it now. So using his chi, he jumped over the last kick. Far over it. Nearly twenty feet, in fact.
And as he fell down towards his foe, he focused his chi on his feet, and let out a shout.
"EAGLE STRIKE!"
The leader attempted to block, only to have his arms crushed against his chest and himself flung backward. Jeremy landed two meters or so from him, and gathered all that remained of his chi into his hand, which was drawn into a claw in front of him. A white light formed around the hand, and the young agent grinned at his astonished and frightened foe.
"Show's over, pal!" he said quietly. He trust his hand into position. His chi reached critical. And he released it.
"FLARE TALON!!!"
The poor guy never had a chance.
* * * * * * * * * *
At the same time...
There were many things that could make Kale laugh. Most of them not nice, some of them disgusting, a few horrendous. But few things made him as happy as seeing a good fight. And that one had been the best he'd seen in quite a while. He actually clapped his hands at the image of the SCD agent, standing, shivering and aching, looking towards the leader of the foes he had just defeated.
"And soundly, too." he chirped, as happy as he had felt when he had killed that puny little kid, a few days ago. "The reports were right, the man indeed has Inner Power, or 'chi'." If the other woman, that blonde, was within his strength level at least, these two could mean serious trouble. The Circle didn't usually like trouble. But then, Kale wasn't a usual member of the organization. Powerful, much more than Acolytes his age were supposed to be, he had risen to the level of Master when he was eighteen, and had become High Master of the Limerick Lair over a year before. And why? Because, unlike the decrepit, overcautious Elders, he happened to love risk and trouble.
He grinned at the fatigued warrior, who was now making his slow way out of the backstreet.
"You are strong, my friend." he told the image, which was fading as his concentration to maintain it dissipated. "Very strong. And stubborn. And very arrogant of that power." he laughed softly. "Such a shame I couldn't detect much darkness within you. You would've fitted right in here, in the Lair. Oh, well." He stood up, walked out of the meditation room. The game was over. Now, to go and get himself a glass of wine...
"Lord Kale." A calm voice intoned. Kale nearly started at the voice. H eknew who that was. Only one person could hide his presence so well. He turned around and, sure enough, there stood Everick, all clothed in black, silent and grim, like death's herald.
"Why, dear Master Everick, old buddy." he said pleasantly. "The evening finds you well, I trust. Not that you'd ever tell us if it didn't." With that he let out a laugh, enjoying the merriment in his voice more than the slight poun itself. It had no effect on the dark man. Everick did have feelings, but he preferred to show them when he wasn't 'on business'. Evidently, he was that right now. Kale sobered, althought a smile remained. "Okay, okay. What is it, my friend?"
The tall, ominous man didn't budge. He only nodded. "I have some very interesting information regarding the two unknown SCD Agents. Very interesting things indeed." He flashed his friend a smile - a pretty rare occurence. "Want to know!"
"As always when it comes to information from you, I am all ears." It was genuinely said. Everick never brought boring or useless information. Everything he said was useful, interesting or at least intriguing. "Come, let's go to my sanctum, savour a bit of spicy, red french wine and tell me all about it." The other man nodded, and they both strated to walk through the corridors. Those Acolytes who happened to be in the way as they walked, blanched and stepped aside, frightened of them - especially of the cheerful-looking Kale.
They soon arrived at Kale's sanctum. It was a large room, furnished with comfortable chairs, an oak- made desk, a large, personal library, a radio - Kale liked listening to the news - and a small bar that had many types of drinks to offer. All in all, it seemed like a late nineteenth century high class room, the radio being the only item that really clashed with the impression. Both men entered, and as Everick closed the door, Kale made his way to the bar, where he looked at his collection of wines.
"So, while I look, why don't you start off?"
He heard Everick cough softly, then start off. "Let us say that the two members of the SCD, the two fighters, have been through their personal hells. Let us start by Storm. At age sixteen, the girl he had been in love with was simultaneously raped, beaten and ultimately murdered by Thomas Storm, a cousin that the agent had grown up with and considered a brother."
"It was bad?"
"Quite bloody, quite horrible."
"Wish I could have held that Thomas's jacket while he did it. I would've liked to see that." Where was that that nineteen eighty? "So, he took it badly?"
"One could say that. SCD's psychologist writes he probably went close to insanity, and even now he keeps the horror of the experience locked away deep within himself. She has a way of putting things melodramatically, but she gets her point across well in her 'private' journals." A snort of contempt, then silence.
"Privacy no longer exists in this world." Kale noted almost sadly, then he brightened. "AHA! Found ya, you little red thingy. Holding the wine and two glasses triumphantly, he made his way back to his partner and friend. "Okay, that's nice to know. We can use that weakness against him, if it comes down to that. But I thought you said you had info on both of the fighters?" he asked, pouring some wine into a glass, then handing it out. Everick accepted it with a nod.
"Indeed. And a most spectacular information it is. You see, I managed to learn that Cammy White was once one of Bison's drone fighters.
The cheer went out of the High Master's face, replaced by astonishement. "Bison?" he spoke the name cautiously, fearfully. "She was controlled by HIS powers?"
A nod. "She certainly was."
"But...shouldn't she be dead or something? No one resists Bison's powers."
"Not necessarily true. Some escaped his control. Ken Masters recently did, if the reports we heard are true."
Kale waved the explanation away in annoyance. "That's not the same thing at all. Bison hadn't completed his mind control. That fact allowed Masters to break free, and nothing else." He sipped his wine, pensive. "Still, even if by some miracle she did escape, there should be some remaining taint, some weaknesses within her psyche." he smiled. "We'll try a little something. If it works, it might just make things even more entertaining. Have you gotten the mole that was going to talk to them?"
"Of course." Everick deadpanned. "He was a fool to think he left us none the wiser."
"Of course, of course." the High Master's smile widened. "Well, then, I have one or two ideas to scare our investigators. First, I want you to take the mole down to third level, and then..."
The man kept talking, his voice rising with excitation and what an outsiders could only have attributed to madness. He rose sometimes, ranting about such detail, or such idea, until finally he had exposed his plan to the only member of the Circle he had ever called friend - and meant it. The tall and ominous Everick took the entire plan in stride, nodding at certain parts, making no comments until he had heard it all. It was only when all was said that he gave his personal opinion on the plan.
"The plan you propose would indeed shake them quite a bit. However, I must point out that it is reckless, and there is a high degree of risks involved." he saw Kale's look and shrugged. "But of course, these facts never stopped you before."
"What's life without risk? Besides, it'll be doubly worth it when we see their faces! They're going to be PRICELESS!!!" he laughed outloud, full of cruel mirth. "Get ready tonight, SCD fools! It going to be a dozy!"
He was going to make sooo sure of that!
* * * * * * * * * *
One hour later...
"Sometimes I wonder where the sense that supposedly characterizes your whole family goes when you fight!!!"
"Owowow! This stuff stinks, damn it! Can't you go at it a little gentler?"
"No. Now old still while I look at these bruises."
Jeremy grumbled under his breath, cursing her and probably cursing just about everything in his spite, but Cindy had heard and seen worse in her life. The rants of a miffed not-quite-nineteen year old didn't make a bit of difference to her. What made a difference was the state in which the young fool had gotten himself.
He had come, hesitating, shivering from exhaustion and scaring just about everyone in the motel's lobby to death. It had been a very nervous employee that had called her down, because of 'a grave problem'. And so here she was, in the motel's small infirmary, struggling to patch up a recalcitrant and reluctant fighter. So annoyed did she feel, she didn't even think about the puns she'd normally use to make the young man squirm in embarassement, but she did take a look at the unblemished part his upper body. Although lean, he was still more athletic than most, and had a graceful turn to his his body features. And there was no fat on these bones. Every thing was bunched up, hard-packed muscle, which explained the strength that belied the size and often surprised opponent. Jeremy said the strength came from his maternal side, while the grace and speed from his paternal side. A useful mix, all in all.
Cammy could definitely do worse than this one, she thought suddenly, then immediately regretted it as fresh guilt suffused her. She hadn't seen Cammy since she'd opened her cursed mouth and babbled the comment she couldn't take. In fact, she hadn't dared to. With her luck, she might have made her crawl back into her shell. Even now, she wasn't sure that she hadn't done exactly that.
Joan's gonna freak when she finds out...and as for Jer...
As for Jer, she really didn't want to think about it much. So she focused on the bruises more, trying to forget her own fault. And, to alleviate stress, what better way to do it than by scolding the one whose reckless stroll had given him these very bruises she was looking at?
"Nothing broken. You're bloody lucky. You might ahve cracked your ribs. In fact, if you'd been hit just a few more times, I think your left side would be busted right now!"
"I know. Believe me, I know."
"What possessed you to go looking for a fight with SIX guys?" she snapped. He glared at her, clearly annoyed, even angry.
"I WASN'T looking for any FUCKING fight! Oh, maybe a little tussle, but nothing more. And I never got a CHOICE!! These six goons were waiting for me. I could feel I was a target as soon as I saw them. A DELIBERATE target." He put his shirt back on slowly, groaning a little. As he did so, Cindy frowned, pondering. Deliberate, huh?
"There were hired thugs, you think?" she asked softly, caught up in her thoughts.
"I think that's a big yes here." he replied, still stiff and grim. "These weren't people who fought to fight or to hurt - there's a fierceness to these guys. And the fact that they attacked me ALL at once - yeah, they're hired muscle alright. Cheap, untracable, good for gauging others from a distance."
She nodded absently. "Yes, it does sound like...something he'd do..." she whispered.
She didn't think she could be heard when she spoke so softly. However, it seems spending most of one's life owning chi and senses gives one excellent hearing. Jeremy turned a curious look at her. "Who's 'he'?" he asked simply. She went back to reality in a flash, embarassed at being caught like a raw recruit. Damn, had she lost her edge that much that she babbled outloud? Still, now that she was caught, she had to answer.
"Well, I've tangled with the Circle once before, and there's one high-placed member of that organization who loved setting up fights and traps to gauge other but also to amuse himself. His name was..." she stopped, coughed "His name is Kale. And believe me, you don't want to meet him, especially not in the state you're in."
"That bad." It wasn't a question. She knew why. She only spoke quietly when something bugged her a lot, and thus, her teammates listened well when she did.
She nodded bleakly. "Worse than bad. A cheerful-looking man, always smiling. Only he laughs about things you never want to know, and deep down, he's one of the most twisted, perverted creatures that God put on Earth."
There was silence afterwards, both agents absorbed in their own thoughts and musings. Cindy leaned on the wall and though about her last encounter with the man named Kale. She shivered. It hadn't been pleasant, and he managed to take part of her away. A small part, true, but an important one nonetheless. A choice, she thought, long-hodden anger threatening to surface, he robbed me of a choice. She didn't hear Jeremy get up, and cough, asking a question probably to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere.
"...at the eating place?"
"What?" she asked, confused. "Sorry, I...zoned out. W-what did you say?"
"How did you guys do at the eating place?" he repeated calmly. "You know, Cammy and you going to eat?"
Oh, darn, she thought, frantic. Knew this was gonna happen sooner or later but... She calmed down. Althought she had thought Jeremy would kill her, deep down she knew he'd never do that. He was probably just going to get a little angry, then calm down and patch the mess she'd made.
Yeah, right. She was dreaming.
"Ah, yes, the café. Well you see, it was rather strange. Cammy just bolted out of the place all of a sudden!" Great job at being cowardly, my dear, snickered her counscience. The young man in front of her didn't seem to buy it, either.
"Bolt out? Cindy, I've been partnered with that girl for a few months and I've seen her jump, walk, crouch, kick and do all sorts of very mundane things. But she never 'bolted'. That would mean fear." He frowned. "And since she was at a café, I think the fear would come from someone who might, maybe, up to a point or assuredly be a person that is relatively you. Am I right?"
Cindy sighed. Jeremy was sometimes reckless, but he certainly wasn't stupid. He was an old 'straight A' student and had the mind of a Sherlock Holmes wannabe if he felt like it. He was obviously feeling like playing violin and solving mysteries now. In short, this was trouble.
"Well she did, so - ah forget it! I'm a poor liar anyway. Something did happen and before you even ask, YES, it's mostly my fault." She held up both her hands as he scowled. "Now hold on! I was trying to help her out! And for a while, I think I was getting through." she sighed. "I just said something she couldn't accept."
Jeremy growled at this point, and she fell silent. Silence reigned again. Cold, angry silence. Then he spoke. Levelly. "Tell me what happened."
She did so, recounting the entired conversation,. putting in as much details as she could. She told him about her annoyance at Cammy's seeming indifference, about the sadness she felt for him in that and had told Cammy about. She even told, embarassed, about telling the blond agent that he liked her, and of the reaction she had had. And, finally, she told about her reckless suggestion, and how Cammy had reacted very badly, bolting out of the place in fear. In fear of what? She couldn't say.
All the while Jeremy had remained silent, never commenting. Only the widening of his eyes and the slight clench of his jaw showed his discomfort or his anger. At the end, however, he just sighed and shook his head slowly.
"You've made a mess in the end, it seems. But no, I don't think its really your fault this time. I might have said just that eventually." he stopped. "No, frustration would probably made me say something worse. I'll go talk to her." he frowned, seemingly puzzled. "What do you think it meant for her, 'giving part of herself'?"
"I wish I knew. However,its clear thats what made her go crazy. She barely reacted before I said that." she smiled. "But I think it means something to her, to know that you like her. I'm not Joan, but I really think its important to her."
He nodded. "Maybe so." he went to the door. Cindy started following, when he turned to her again, a very small, very sad smile on his tired face. "But its not true." She had no time to react before he continued. "I don't like her, Cindy." He opened the door, glanced outside bleakly.
"I love her." and with that calm, remarquable statement, the young man left.
As for Cindy, it was a long time before her mouth closed. When it did, she still felt lost. These street fighters. How strange a bunch they are. Feelings wrapped up in cold pride the lot of them. She was glad she was just a 'normal' agent of SCD.
But, more then ever, she wished them both to mend and understand each other. They so needed that.
* * * * * * * * * *
That evening...
"So, ye almost got whipped, is that it?" asked Mark nastily.
"I most certainly did NOT!" cried Jeremy, outraged. "They were amateurs, the whole lot of them. I got worse from single guys or girls - but THOSE were experienced fighter, not thugs."
Mark snickered. Few things made the young guy angry quick, so contained was he. But putting any doubt on his fighting skills was one of these few, and so the Scotish man found his custumary phone to the investigating team more fun than usual.
"Fine, fine, lad." he said placatingly. "I don't doubt ye. So, besides that, no problems, huh? That's fine. Seems things are all right for all teams so far. Nemmi and Micheal are out seeing some seedy spots in Argentina and found nothing, and I'm told Giorgio and Julia's team have encountered no problem preparing that strike against that Dis Khandu group in Egypt. A calm couple a days, lad."
"I'm surprised Gio and our local little shade haven't killed each other by now. All things aside, can you patch me through to Joan? I need to talk to her."
"No need for that, she's fiddling in the computer room with me." he raised his already high-pitched voice to a grating screech. "JOAN! PHONE! ITS JER!!" He saw Joan wince to his satisfaction, just as Jeremy cursed and grumbled from the phone. Sometimes he actually liked having a weird, high-pitched voice.
Joan gave him a dirty look, than picked up the phone next to her own computer, while Mark hung up his end and turned back to analysing information from and for the various SCD teams. Still, he couldn't help but alleviate the boredom of the task by listening to Joan's half of the conversation.
"Hello, Jer, how is the mission? ... That's great...yes...huh huh...a problem? Okay, What is it?" Mark's ears perked up upon hearing the word 'problem'. For a few minutes, silence reigned as Joan listened to their teammate's description. Then she gave a slight growl. "Dammit. I see, I know. Still, she should have minded her business. Hum? Yes, I suppose...but be careful. She may show a very tough exterior, but people like her are very fragile emotionally. I know. I know, I know, just don't push her too hard."
Mark closed his ears to the rest of the conversation, which was nothing more than gossip and trivialities from then on. He sighed. From the words he had heard - he could tell who the 'she' which messed up was - and from the tone that his warning had gone unheeded, as usual. All of it wasn't surprising. In fact, it was mildly amusing when he wasn't involved.
"Right. Hear from you soon." Joan hung up. And immediately exploded. "IDIOT!"
"Who, me?" asked the dark-haired agent with mock hurt in his voice. "I'm hurt, lass. In all the years I've known ye, I thought that you liked me or at least..."
"Oh, cut the melodrama! You know it was Cindy I was talking about." Joan snapped.
"Of course its Cindy. Its always Cindy. So what did she do THIS time?"
Joan told him, in very colorful and ungentle terms, what exactly the redhead agent had done. Mark listened with amusement, but also with more than a bit of despair. He had known that something like this was going to happen. Had told the well-meaning but socially clumsy girl that it would happen. And the result had been the same, anyway. When was that woman going to learn her 'help' was the worst thing that could happen to a person with personal problems? Never, he guessed.
"So, she did her usual stunt. With the expected result." he sighed. "And what is Jer going to do about it?"
Joan shrugged and hesitated. "Not much he can do, except try to clear things out with her."
"Hmmm. Do you think it would work right now?" Mark inquired.
"I don't know. Honestly, I don't know. I hope so."
There was silence for a long while afterwards.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later...
Someday you'll have to open up to someone Cammy. You can't live with this forever. Better to tell it to someone you trust and get it over with.
Those were the words Joan told her during the last therapy session. Even now, the young woman recognized that it was sage advice given by a very level-headed person, and that she should heed it. But she never did. She never could open up to anyone, could never told what she remembered of her time in Shadowlaw.
With Bison.
But everytime she even thought about telling someone, the pain came, overflowing her mind, rendering it numb with fright and horror. She coulldn't bare to tell anyone that. They couldn't understand, what they did to her, was she was forced to do, what she was forced to feel - if allowed to feel anything at all. They couldn't know.
You have to give a part of yourself.
But which part of herself can she give to anyone, if she couldn't know what these parts truly were beyond indistinct shapes and locked-up feelings? How could she find it within herself to care and trust when all she felt inside were hurt, fear and humiliation? The few answers that drifted to her were all bleak and hopeless. But the worst was this unanswerable question: did she still want to care?
The dash she had made had taken her to the small gymnasium of the hotel they were staying in. It was empty, which suited her fine. She didn't need anyone prying and asking whether or not she was alright. As if people needed to ask. Any dimwit could see she wasn't. But she refused to answer questions or to make contact with anyone yet. She couldn't tell how she'd react to it right now.
Jeremy. He was special to her, very special. Had always been, from the first time they met. He was the one who, more than anyone else, had allowed her to make it that far. She couldn't believe he wanted something she wasn't prepared to give, especially when she couldn't tell what she really felt towards him, much less express it. Still, when Cindy had told her she might lose him, lose what she had, she had felt so...numb. So full of dread. Why was that? Why?
"Whoa, you look troubled, lady. Anything wrong."
Self-preservation instincts and years of training kicked through her confusion as the curious, pleasant voice rang out. She whirled around, towards the entrance, in a wary pose, ready to defend if need be. The man looking back at her, taken aback but still smiling, was of average build and height, with jeans, sneakers and a green shirt. His face - ordinary features with light brown hair - and demeanor seemed extremely pleasant. But, still, how had he ever gone inside the entrance like that without her noticing him? Only Julia Simmons was able to do that so well. Or was she so confused that her sixth sense was momentarily shot?
The man held up his hands as if to ward a blow. "Hey, lady, don't get so worked up! Geez, sorry, I was just asking, okay?" his smile never faded even as he said so, and this gave Cammy a very eery feeling.
That and the fact that the tone and pleasantness seemed so fake.
"Don't sneak up on me. Ever." she said softly.
"I wouldn't dream of it, lady. Who would want to get in the badside of one of Bison bitch dolls?" Was the pleasant reply. So pleasant was it, in fact, that it took her a moment to realize what this man had just said. She froze and stared, the 'eery feeling' increasing into dread mixed with stupefaction..
"W-what did you say?" she asked, unable to keep a quaver from entering her voice. The man noticed, and his eyes acquired a cruel twinkle. He started to walk towards her, calm and composed.
"Do you want to hear a nice little story?" he asked gleefully. He didn't wait for a reply. "Once, many decades ago, there was this group, which was founded much earlier by the way. It was a very special group, who had found an energy that wasn't based on willpower and human life - you would call that CHI but they called that power Inner Powers. What they had discovered was the energy to affect people in their minds and, if they were very powerful, in their bodies, or in illusions and strange conjurings. It wasn't based on the life of a human, but the energy that was formed from the planet in contact with a human. They called it Outer Powers. A person could have both energies, althought most people had neither and never really knew of their exsistence."
He stopped for a moment, thinking. Cammy knew she had to act right then and there, but she was spellbound by the strange, fervent tone the man spoke with.
"But there were two there who were different. Powerful in BOTH they actually were, a very rare occurence indeed. The weaker of the two, the woman, had no intention of following the secret, manipulative ways of the group and left to help people with her powers and knowledge. Those of the group that tried to prevent it, she dealt with efficiently, and was left alone. The man was something else. He had enormous chi in his body and his power - psy - was tremendously high. He learned to merge both, and became probably the strongest member of the group he was in. He, too, left, but not with the intention of helping people. He wanted to RULE them with fear and strength, and so he founded his own group." He smirked. "As time wore on, he decided to use his powers to control warriors that attracted his interest. He would have them captured, then broke their will and seeded them with his powers, rendering them nothing more than walking dolls that did his bidding. They would do anything he asked without any complaint. And that suited him just fine."
Cammy was starting to shiver. She knew what this strange man was recounting now. Once again, the memories threatened to flood her. Images of herself, bound, helpless. Faces that came and went, leaving pain in their wake. The image of a huge, muscular man in a scarlet unform, looking down at her in contempt and, firighteningly, a bit of lust, his eyes glowing with power. Images of this same man, taking advantage of her helplessness, until she felt she wanted to die and forget. She fought down those memories, hugging herself, her mind reeling. She almost forgot that the man in front of her was an enemy entirely.
"Touched a nerve? Well, it should. After all, the man created three female dolls to do what he wanted." his smirk twisted even more. "ANYTHING he wanted. But one of the three, by some miracle, escaped that control, and joined forces with people that were dedicated in destroying her former master and people like him." he sighed, stepping nearer. "A nice story, very... refreshing. But there is a question that I've been burning to ask. No, two."
He was barely a meter from her now, his smirk in place his eyes now blazing with cruel amusement. It seemed as if he was certain she couldn't hurt him, even at this distance. She gritted her teeth, as anger and indignation - feelings that she never had felt so well in a long time, started to replace her confusion and her fear. How dare he come so close, spouting such terible things and looking so GODDAMN SMUG ABOUT IT!!! IF HE WANTED A FUCKING FIGHT, HE WAS GONNA HAVE ONE!!!
The man stopped, undaunted by the fury that was growing in her eyes and spoke. "Tell me, Cammy White. How does it feel to be a doll? And how did it feel to be screwed by Bison?" And he chuckled, cruelly, maniacally.
And something snapped within Cammy then. For months she'd been fighting, plagued with nightmares she'd never been able to tell anyone, memories of events that had scarred her very soul, her very being. And this - this BASTARD - just swaggers into the place and demeans her in the most brutal way imaginable, forcing her to relive these nightmares and then treating it all as a JOKE!!! The furious snarl that erupted surprised her in its sheer ferocity, as she swiftly bacxked her clenched fist and prepared to punch the asshole with all the strength she could muster.
Just as she was about to let go, however, pain erupted in her fist, pain so intense that she saw stars for a moment. She gasped and clutched it, involuntarily dropping her guard. She saw the kick that was coming at her, however, and blocked it with her other hand. She swiftly brought her feet up for a retaliating kick. Immediately the pain came, intense, from her legs. She went down to one knee, puzzled and frightened by her body's atrocious behaviour. The man yet seemed unfazed.
"Terrible, ain't it?" Not being able to control your own actions?" he said, with amusement and yet some relief.
Her eyes widened. "You...?" she couldn't frame the question. He seemed to know it anyway, even to be waiting for it. He crouched near her, now completely confident.
"Oh, no, lady, its not me." he smiled that cruel smile again. "Well, not really. You can thank Bison for that little inconvenience, too."
She could only stare, horrified and speechless.
"Bison had you under his COMPLETE control for YEARS! He seeded you with his Outer Powers to do that. Now you've broken throught that control - it still staggers me that you did - but bits and parts of that power still remain to be utilized by someone from my spheres of power." he shrugged. "Oh, I can't make you do what I want, but I can PREVENT you from doing things that would cause me harm - like kicks and punches." With snake-like speed he reached out and grasped her chin. "In the end, you're nothing more than a doll to me. Useless and powerless."
She let out a yell at him touching her, shrugging his hand, lashing out with her other hand. The pain came, but she fought it down, using her new-found rage to keep the punch going. The pain became almost unbearable and she nearly blacked out, but she did manage to score a hit.
He hadn't been expecting it. Her vision fazed out by pain momentarily, she still heard him cry out in pain. It hadn't been a very successful hit - to her, it was in fact a lame one - but at least it had actually HURT the crazy, cruel bastard. She felt some twisted elation for a moment. The moment died quickly, however, as the gasps of pain changed into twisted, exultant laughter that echoed through the gymnasium. He laughed so hard and so lightly that it was a wonder that he had felt the blow at all. Or maybe it was the violence he had liked. Whatever it was, Cammy was certain of one thing: this guy was stir crazy. She shook her head, trying to regain her eyesights, which had dimmed from the pain. She vaguely saw him crounch anew, this time from a safe distance.
"Gheheehee...heh...I...heh...must commend you for that herculean effort. Now I can understand how you were able to ultimately break Bison's control." he giggled like a child who had just gotten a new toy. "Oh, you and Storm definitely can provide me the amusement I've been needing for a while! Here's the free info to give you guys a fighting chance: tell that Jeremy that you and he better go visit his hometown right away for, in one week, something's gonna happen to a certain Mary Ann. You got that?"
Her eyesight was rapidly returning, and she could see the man in detail now. He had a deep red mark covering his right cheek - the hit she scored - but he seemed oblivious to it as he still smiled his smug and cruel smile. She tensed, ready to spring on him. He couldn't help but see it. He tsked.
"Ah ah ah!" he said gleefully "No point trying to get me again. It took you a lot to hit me that one time. I doubt you can do it again. But if you want to try, go ahead." When she didn't move, inwardly seething, he stood up. "Didn't think so. So, remember my message. I think its a fair warning, don't you?" He turned around and guffawed as he walked to the double door of the gym. Cammy gritted her teeth. How she wished she could shut that lunatic up! If only she could actually HIT him, she would give him a trashing he'd never forget.
"Damn you, bastard. I'll never forget this." she growled, with tears of pain anf anger in her eyes. He stopped laughing then, turning around, his face suddenly icy. When he spoke, his voice was calm, yet it seemed all the more dangerous because of that.
"I hope you don't, doll." he said evenly. "And if you want to pin a name on this face, remember that my name is Kale. And that you and Storm, you're just pawns to me right now."
And he left, leaving Cammy to her humiliation and her emerging feelings.
* * * * * * * * * *
Five minutes later...
Jeremy had been looking for Cammy up and down for the past fifteen minutes, but so far had found no trace of the young woman. He was starting to get worried, it wasn't like her to leave without some good reason. But, still, the present situation wasn't usual. And what he felt wasn't usual.
His declaration to Cindy had surprised him almost as much as it did her, althought he did not show it. Still, he wondered how much of it was true. He cared for her, liked her even, but did he really love her? This he couldn't readily answer. Could he love a woman who barely seemed to acknowledge his presence? He knew that he could never do so, no matter how the girl would look or behave.
But there was something he felt from her, an impression which refused to let go of him. True, she never expressed it, but there were signs that she cared. The long looks she sometimes gave him when she thought he wasn't looking, the fact that she gave him a little more time to recover from a good blow at training than she would any of the others.
He sighed. Why was he getting into this again? She seemed to want nothing more than this, but still...
Then what he had thought before flared back into his mind. He smacked his head with his palm, disgusted and angry at himself. Training. The gym. He never looked in the gym! What a fool he could be sometimes. He stood up from his bed, where he had been contemplating, bidding his aches to be gone and starting for the door. He was just about to reach for the door when it opened with force. He had to backtrack in order to avoid it, and looked at the one who had flung it open. Unsurprisingly, it was the object of the last fifteen minutes of his life. Surprisingly, she had a look that was as far from emotionless as could be. He was so stunned by the sudden change he stopped all movement.
She saw him immediately, and almost pounced at him. This simple rush scattered his wits, for this was a situation he had never TRULY thought would happen. He almost stepped back when she grasped his shoulders and shook him urgently.
"Jer! Jer!" she called frantically. "We have to go to America, to your hometown!"
That shook him out of his daze. "W-w-what? My hometown? Greenway? Err...sure. If you want it that badly, we can always drop in on my family during vacation. I'm up for a long one, so..."
"Its not that. Its, that guy, he just...." she stopped, as if her emotions were overwhelming her. Knowing how she usually was, Jeremy thought they probably were. Not knowing what else to do, he disengaged her hands from his shoulders, and closed the door. He then turned to face her.
"Okay, Cammy. What happened?"
She seemed more herself now - the man cringed when he realized he was starting to consider an emotionless Cammy 'normal' - her face and demeanor more neutral. But there was a nervousness in her that he had never seen before. Something in him liked seeing ANYTHING from her, while another part started to freak out.
"I received a message from the Circle. They told me...that you had to go back to America, to your hometown, or something would happen to someone called Mary Ann in one week."
If someone had kicked all the air in his lungs, he never could have felt worse. Mary Ann? The joyous, bouncy little girl that never seemed to be sad or discouraged? The little kid that was his sister in all but blood? He suddenly found himself sitting on the floor, with Cammy looking at him with plain concern - another novelty from her. This time, however, he cared not for the changes as much. His head was but a mass of fear of confusion.
But the Storms had never been ones to give in to such things, and he was no exception. Determination quickly replaced anything else, and he surged to his feet with renewed energy. He faced his partner squarely.
"I'll call Mark and arrange things. Wanna come?" he thought he knew what the answer would be, and reached for his SCD cellphone.
"Yes, I will."
He stopped, once again taken aback. What a strange day this was turning out to be. She looked right back at him, her gaze firm yet uncertain.
"Jer," she began. "A-am I...?" she stopped, coughed, her eyes showing despair and sadness. "D-do you think I'm j-just a doll?" her voice became more uncertain, broken. "Am I losing you?" she whispered.
Jeremy now wished to be altogether elsewhere. Not because he was cowardly, or because he hated her weakness. But he didn't want to see her like this. He'd never been good at seeing people bare their souls, had never known what to say. Joan was good at saying the right things, and Claudia, Samantha and, to a point, Mattew had that knack as well. But none of them were there to help. This was to be his problem entirely. So he did the only thing he thought he could do, the only thing that seemed to work for him: he said what he thought.
He clapped her shoulder reassuringly, startling her out of her depressive bout, and spoke gently. "The next time you think that I would answer 'yes' to either question, you and I are going to fight. You ARE NOT a doll, you ARE NOT losing me and I never want to hear things like that from you again. Got that?"
She seemed to only nod at him, her face resetting itself into a neutral mien. But Jeremy thought he saw a ligh in her blue eyes that had never been there before. It gave him hope...for so many things.
He had needed that hope.
He grasped his cellphone and started to dial. "Okay, Cammy. Time for me to show you my folks, it seems!" he smiled, but his eyes held steel and worry over his little sister. "America, here we come!"
_____________________________________________________________
Here we are! I'm about to give some life back into the older part of Jeremy's life. Next time around, expect to see old characters come back, and some new ones to boot. Plus, another Street Fighter joins the game.
I hope you liked reading this Chapter! See you in Chapter 12!
As always, I crave FEEDBACK and IDEAS!
Jeremy
By Jeremy
Chapter 11
August 14, 1997
He had been planning on fighting. In fact, he had been eager to taste the combat flavour of Limerick, to know the tricks that were standard in these streets, as well as the tricks that were enticingly local. He was being served right now. He was about to gain that knowledge. He simply didn't think it would come so fast - or in so deadly a manner.
The five goons were advancing, each assuming a solid offensive stance. Can't pick up their style, he thought, its just a mix of things they learned. The three at my back are pretty undisciplined, the weakest of the lot. He tightened his defense, preparing himself for the assault. None of them, by themselves, would be a danger, but together - the one behind me. Change in his feel. He'll start it and trigger the others.
A moment later he heard a cry behind him, and a soft shuffling of feet. He felt the kick coming at his head as well as if he had been looking - and ducked at the last moment. The guy went over him, strtled, unbalanced. Jeremy crouched and swiped the feet from another adversary, threw an upopercut at another, using his spring to give as much strength in his shot as possible. The first man regained his feet within a few moments, but the other was sent flying by the strength of the punch.
Silently, he started to draw in his chi, to feel it flow from deep within his spirit to his body...
He knew he couldn't let himself be surrounded, or he'd be unable to maneuver. Only one grunt stood in his way, preventing him from exiting the backstreet. Quickly, he formulated a plan. He attacked the still-untseady grunt with a flurry of punches, jabs and vicious kicks, using tricks from Storm's Fang, Kyokushin and MI6 Training to his advantage, using a bit of chi to augment the strength and spped of his attacks.
The grunt - not old, no more than twenty-five - was good. He probably could handle the average martial artist. But not a champion. And Jeremy was even stronger than a champion. His defense allowed him to block the shot to the face, but he wasn't quick enough to see it had been a feint, lacking any power. As he blocked, the SCD martial artist threw a succession of chi-augmented punches to the guy's stomach, reaching upward to his solar plexus. He coughed, choked out of breath, but couldn't help but clutch his stomach convulsively. Jermy threw a roundhouse kick at his head, and it knocked him into the wall. The thug was uncouncious before he hit the ground. Swiping his feet in a wide kick to keep the other three goons at bay, the young street fighter broke into a run towards the exit. He heard growls and shouts behind him, and feet pounding the concrete, giving chase.
Just like he intended them to do.
He knew they thought he was trying to escape. They were dead wrong. Without warning, using instincts honed during fourteen years of training under great masters like James and Mattew Storm, Giorgio Castillo and even Steve Hemmerson, the grey-eyed youth turned around and sprang in the air, bringing his knee in front of him.
They hadn't expected that, weren't prepared for it. Barely two meters behind him, they barely had time to register the attack, never to slow down. Jeremy had aimed in the middle, and he collided squarely with the grunt right behing him. The momentum of both person transformed the precarious attack into a deadly one, as when Storm's knee met the thug's face, it didn't just hit it - it CRASHED on it. Jeremy distinctively both heard and felt the breaking of bone, and saw blood fountain from a mangled mass that had just seconds before been a nose. The poor schmock was hurled over ten feet backward, landed with a thud, and did not rise again.
He landed himself, shaky but giddy with the way this fight was going. There assholes! That's three of you! Now for - His train of thoughts was interrupted when he felt pain blossom through his left side, making him gasp. A kick. From one of the other two guys. They had recovered from their surprise far quickly than he had thought it possible. A costly mistake, one he should never had made. His grandfather would be shaking his old head in disappointment at that.
He tried to recover as best he could. Blocked another kick aimed for the side, but failed to stop the skull-cracking punch that the other guy sent. He saw stars for moment, and tasted blood in his mouth. He spat it, but before he could regain his fighting stance, one of the two grunts held his arms behind his backs, and the other started to lay into him in all his strength.
Punches flew at his face, his chest, his stomach. He used his training and most of his chi to keep away most of the damage, but his strength was starting to diminish. In a rageful moment, he wished Cammy had come with him. Together they would have taken care of these five AND their leader without a problem. He squashed the thought as selfish, but it lingered at the back of his mind.
Then the guy who held him made a mistake. He spoke.
"Yeah, kick the crap outta him, Dell!" he said nastily.
That gave him the exact position of his opponent's head and when 'Dell' came swinging at his face next, Jeremy twisted and ducked so that his captor received the blow head on. There was a cry of surprise, and the hold on Jeremy's arms slackened. He broke free easily, grabbed the stunned man behind him, and promptly thew him into 'D ell'. The guy only uttered a curse before receiving the man-sized projectile. Both thugs fell to the ground.
The SCD Agent never let them get up. One firm kick to the side of the head of one, two powerful punch in the face of the other, and both were seeing birds in all shades of colours. Sighing in relief, the young man inspected himself. Some bruises. One or two scratches. Nothing broken. Good. He looked around, saw the leader of the group, who had by now lost his confident smirk and actually looked distressed when Jeremy gave him a cold, level look.
For one moment the young Storm thought to leave it at that, but quickly forgot about it. This was a prepared trap. More than likely, someone was watching. If he didn't take down the WHOLE gang, it might be like showing weakness. And I can't have that now, he decided grimly. He walked towards the leader, his whole body aching and tired, but not letting it show in his manners, his face or his speech.
"You know," he reflected, "If I were you I'd be turning around and running for my life. I'll let you, don't worry about that. You might well do it - after all, you never helped your pals out there." his tone turned cold and nasty. "If you stay and fight, you should know I'll be pretty hard on you. I'm tired, I'm hurt and, unfortunately for you, I am EXTREMELY unhappy."
The leader looked uncertain, considering his options. But then pride crept into his expression, and his eyes flashed. He took up a fighting stance. Practiced. Tai-Kwan-Do. Brown or even black belt. This guy was a good strong notch over the other five. But he was several notches below most fighters the SCD had to offer. And Jeremy happened to be one of the best of those.
"I won't turn my back on some damn kid who's gotten it lucky!" The leader spat viciously. Jeremy shrugged indifferently.
"Your loss, you trash." he said, taking his own fighting stance - the relaxed mix of karate and judo, created by his grandfather long ago to prevent opponents from pinpointing the style. The young fighter gathered all of his chi this time, knowing, depite his confidence, that he had to give it everything he had before the exertions overtook him.
The leader lunged at him, using an attack centered on powerful, long-ranged kicks - standard in Tai-Kwan-Do. Jeremy blocked them, wincing as his weakened arms barely handled the impacts. He knew he had to do something, and do it now. So using his chi, he jumped over the last kick. Far over it. Nearly twenty feet, in fact.
And as he fell down towards his foe, he focused his chi on his feet, and let out a shout.
"EAGLE STRIKE!"
The leader attempted to block, only to have his arms crushed against his chest and himself flung backward. Jeremy landed two meters or so from him, and gathered all that remained of his chi into his hand, which was drawn into a claw in front of him. A white light formed around the hand, and the young agent grinned at his astonished and frightened foe.
"Show's over, pal!" he said quietly. He trust his hand into position. His chi reached critical. And he released it.
"FLARE TALON!!!"
The poor guy never had a chance.
* * * * * * * * * *
At the same time...
There were many things that could make Kale laugh. Most of them not nice, some of them disgusting, a few horrendous. But few things made him as happy as seeing a good fight. And that one had been the best he'd seen in quite a while. He actually clapped his hands at the image of the SCD agent, standing, shivering and aching, looking towards the leader of the foes he had just defeated.
"And soundly, too." he chirped, as happy as he had felt when he had killed that puny little kid, a few days ago. "The reports were right, the man indeed has Inner Power, or 'chi'." If the other woman, that blonde, was within his strength level at least, these two could mean serious trouble. The Circle didn't usually like trouble. But then, Kale wasn't a usual member of the organization. Powerful, much more than Acolytes his age were supposed to be, he had risen to the level of Master when he was eighteen, and had become High Master of the Limerick Lair over a year before. And why? Because, unlike the decrepit, overcautious Elders, he happened to love risk and trouble.
He grinned at the fatigued warrior, who was now making his slow way out of the backstreet.
"You are strong, my friend." he told the image, which was fading as his concentration to maintain it dissipated. "Very strong. And stubborn. And very arrogant of that power." he laughed softly. "Such a shame I couldn't detect much darkness within you. You would've fitted right in here, in the Lair. Oh, well." He stood up, walked out of the meditation room. The game was over. Now, to go and get himself a glass of wine...
"Lord Kale." A calm voice intoned. Kale nearly started at the voice. H eknew who that was. Only one person could hide his presence so well. He turned around and, sure enough, there stood Everick, all clothed in black, silent and grim, like death's herald.
"Why, dear Master Everick, old buddy." he said pleasantly. "The evening finds you well, I trust. Not that you'd ever tell us if it didn't." With that he let out a laugh, enjoying the merriment in his voice more than the slight poun itself. It had no effect on the dark man. Everick did have feelings, but he preferred to show them when he wasn't 'on business'. Evidently, he was that right now. Kale sobered, althought a smile remained. "Okay, okay. What is it, my friend?"
The tall, ominous man didn't budge. He only nodded. "I have some very interesting information regarding the two unknown SCD Agents. Very interesting things indeed." He flashed his friend a smile - a pretty rare occurence. "Want to know!"
"As always when it comes to information from you, I am all ears." It was genuinely said. Everick never brought boring or useless information. Everything he said was useful, interesting or at least intriguing. "Come, let's go to my sanctum, savour a bit of spicy, red french wine and tell me all about it." The other man nodded, and they both strated to walk through the corridors. Those Acolytes who happened to be in the way as they walked, blanched and stepped aside, frightened of them - especially of the cheerful-looking Kale.
They soon arrived at Kale's sanctum. It was a large room, furnished with comfortable chairs, an oak- made desk, a large, personal library, a radio - Kale liked listening to the news - and a small bar that had many types of drinks to offer. All in all, it seemed like a late nineteenth century high class room, the radio being the only item that really clashed with the impression. Both men entered, and as Everick closed the door, Kale made his way to the bar, where he looked at his collection of wines.
"So, while I look, why don't you start off?"
He heard Everick cough softly, then start off. "Let us say that the two members of the SCD, the two fighters, have been through their personal hells. Let us start by Storm. At age sixteen, the girl he had been in love with was simultaneously raped, beaten and ultimately murdered by Thomas Storm, a cousin that the agent had grown up with and considered a brother."
"It was bad?"
"Quite bloody, quite horrible."
"Wish I could have held that Thomas's jacket while he did it. I would've liked to see that." Where was that that nineteen eighty? "So, he took it badly?"
"One could say that. SCD's psychologist writes he probably went close to insanity, and even now he keeps the horror of the experience locked away deep within himself. She has a way of putting things melodramatically, but she gets her point across well in her 'private' journals." A snort of contempt, then silence.
"Privacy no longer exists in this world." Kale noted almost sadly, then he brightened. "AHA! Found ya, you little red thingy. Holding the wine and two glasses triumphantly, he made his way back to his partner and friend. "Okay, that's nice to know. We can use that weakness against him, if it comes down to that. But I thought you said you had info on both of the fighters?" he asked, pouring some wine into a glass, then handing it out. Everick accepted it with a nod.
"Indeed. And a most spectacular information it is. You see, I managed to learn that Cammy White was once one of Bison's drone fighters.
The cheer went out of the High Master's face, replaced by astonishement. "Bison?" he spoke the name cautiously, fearfully. "She was controlled by HIS powers?"
A nod. "She certainly was."
"But...shouldn't she be dead or something? No one resists Bison's powers."
"Not necessarily true. Some escaped his control. Ken Masters recently did, if the reports we heard are true."
Kale waved the explanation away in annoyance. "That's not the same thing at all. Bison hadn't completed his mind control. That fact allowed Masters to break free, and nothing else." He sipped his wine, pensive. "Still, even if by some miracle she did escape, there should be some remaining taint, some weaknesses within her psyche." he smiled. "We'll try a little something. If it works, it might just make things even more entertaining. Have you gotten the mole that was going to talk to them?"
"Of course." Everick deadpanned. "He was a fool to think he left us none the wiser."
"Of course, of course." the High Master's smile widened. "Well, then, I have one or two ideas to scare our investigators. First, I want you to take the mole down to third level, and then..."
The man kept talking, his voice rising with excitation and what an outsiders could only have attributed to madness. He rose sometimes, ranting about such detail, or such idea, until finally he had exposed his plan to the only member of the Circle he had ever called friend - and meant it. The tall and ominous Everick took the entire plan in stride, nodding at certain parts, making no comments until he had heard it all. It was only when all was said that he gave his personal opinion on the plan.
"The plan you propose would indeed shake them quite a bit. However, I must point out that it is reckless, and there is a high degree of risks involved." he saw Kale's look and shrugged. "But of course, these facts never stopped you before."
"What's life without risk? Besides, it'll be doubly worth it when we see their faces! They're going to be PRICELESS!!!" he laughed outloud, full of cruel mirth. "Get ready tonight, SCD fools! It going to be a dozy!"
He was going to make sooo sure of that!
* * * * * * * * * *
One hour later...
"Sometimes I wonder where the sense that supposedly characterizes your whole family goes when you fight!!!"
"Owowow! This stuff stinks, damn it! Can't you go at it a little gentler?"
"No. Now old still while I look at these bruises."
Jeremy grumbled under his breath, cursing her and probably cursing just about everything in his spite, but Cindy had heard and seen worse in her life. The rants of a miffed not-quite-nineteen year old didn't make a bit of difference to her. What made a difference was the state in which the young fool had gotten himself.
He had come, hesitating, shivering from exhaustion and scaring just about everyone in the motel's lobby to death. It had been a very nervous employee that had called her down, because of 'a grave problem'. And so here she was, in the motel's small infirmary, struggling to patch up a recalcitrant and reluctant fighter. So annoyed did she feel, she didn't even think about the puns she'd normally use to make the young man squirm in embarassement, but she did take a look at the unblemished part his upper body. Although lean, he was still more athletic than most, and had a graceful turn to his his body features. And there was no fat on these bones. Every thing was bunched up, hard-packed muscle, which explained the strength that belied the size and often surprised opponent. Jeremy said the strength came from his maternal side, while the grace and speed from his paternal side. A useful mix, all in all.
Cammy could definitely do worse than this one, she thought suddenly, then immediately regretted it as fresh guilt suffused her. She hadn't seen Cammy since she'd opened her cursed mouth and babbled the comment she couldn't take. In fact, she hadn't dared to. With her luck, she might have made her crawl back into her shell. Even now, she wasn't sure that she hadn't done exactly that.
Joan's gonna freak when she finds out...and as for Jer...
As for Jer, she really didn't want to think about it much. So she focused on the bruises more, trying to forget her own fault. And, to alleviate stress, what better way to do it than by scolding the one whose reckless stroll had given him these very bruises she was looking at?
"Nothing broken. You're bloody lucky. You might ahve cracked your ribs. In fact, if you'd been hit just a few more times, I think your left side would be busted right now!"
"I know. Believe me, I know."
"What possessed you to go looking for a fight with SIX guys?" she snapped. He glared at her, clearly annoyed, even angry.
"I WASN'T looking for any FUCKING fight! Oh, maybe a little tussle, but nothing more. And I never got a CHOICE!! These six goons were waiting for me. I could feel I was a target as soon as I saw them. A DELIBERATE target." He put his shirt back on slowly, groaning a little. As he did so, Cindy frowned, pondering. Deliberate, huh?
"There were hired thugs, you think?" she asked softly, caught up in her thoughts.
"I think that's a big yes here." he replied, still stiff and grim. "These weren't people who fought to fight or to hurt - there's a fierceness to these guys. And the fact that they attacked me ALL at once - yeah, they're hired muscle alright. Cheap, untracable, good for gauging others from a distance."
She nodded absently. "Yes, it does sound like...something he'd do..." she whispered.
She didn't think she could be heard when she spoke so softly. However, it seems spending most of one's life owning chi and senses gives one excellent hearing. Jeremy turned a curious look at her. "Who's 'he'?" he asked simply. She went back to reality in a flash, embarassed at being caught like a raw recruit. Damn, had she lost her edge that much that she babbled outloud? Still, now that she was caught, she had to answer.
"Well, I've tangled with the Circle once before, and there's one high-placed member of that organization who loved setting up fights and traps to gauge other but also to amuse himself. His name was..." she stopped, coughed "His name is Kale. And believe me, you don't want to meet him, especially not in the state you're in."
"That bad." It wasn't a question. She knew why. She only spoke quietly when something bugged her a lot, and thus, her teammates listened well when she did.
She nodded bleakly. "Worse than bad. A cheerful-looking man, always smiling. Only he laughs about things you never want to know, and deep down, he's one of the most twisted, perverted creatures that God put on Earth."
There was silence afterwards, both agents absorbed in their own thoughts and musings. Cindy leaned on the wall and though about her last encounter with the man named Kale. She shivered. It hadn't been pleasant, and he managed to take part of her away. A small part, true, but an important one nonetheless. A choice, she thought, long-hodden anger threatening to surface, he robbed me of a choice. She didn't hear Jeremy get up, and cough, asking a question probably to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere.
"...at the eating place?"
"What?" she asked, confused. "Sorry, I...zoned out. W-what did you say?"
"How did you guys do at the eating place?" he repeated calmly. "You know, Cammy and you going to eat?"
Oh, darn, she thought, frantic. Knew this was gonna happen sooner or later but... She calmed down. Althought she had thought Jeremy would kill her, deep down she knew he'd never do that. He was probably just going to get a little angry, then calm down and patch the mess she'd made.
Yeah, right. She was dreaming.
"Ah, yes, the café. Well you see, it was rather strange. Cammy just bolted out of the place all of a sudden!" Great job at being cowardly, my dear, snickered her counscience. The young man in front of her didn't seem to buy it, either.
"Bolt out? Cindy, I've been partnered with that girl for a few months and I've seen her jump, walk, crouch, kick and do all sorts of very mundane things. But she never 'bolted'. That would mean fear." He frowned. "And since she was at a café, I think the fear would come from someone who might, maybe, up to a point or assuredly be a person that is relatively you. Am I right?"
Cindy sighed. Jeremy was sometimes reckless, but he certainly wasn't stupid. He was an old 'straight A' student and had the mind of a Sherlock Holmes wannabe if he felt like it. He was obviously feeling like playing violin and solving mysteries now. In short, this was trouble.
"Well she did, so - ah forget it! I'm a poor liar anyway. Something did happen and before you even ask, YES, it's mostly my fault." She held up both her hands as he scowled. "Now hold on! I was trying to help her out! And for a while, I think I was getting through." she sighed. "I just said something she couldn't accept."
Jeremy growled at this point, and she fell silent. Silence reigned again. Cold, angry silence. Then he spoke. Levelly. "Tell me what happened."
She did so, recounting the entired conversation,. putting in as much details as she could. She told him about her annoyance at Cammy's seeming indifference, about the sadness she felt for him in that and had told Cammy about. She even told, embarassed, about telling the blond agent that he liked her, and of the reaction she had had. And, finally, she told about her reckless suggestion, and how Cammy had reacted very badly, bolting out of the place in fear. In fear of what? She couldn't say.
All the while Jeremy had remained silent, never commenting. Only the widening of his eyes and the slight clench of his jaw showed his discomfort or his anger. At the end, however, he just sighed and shook his head slowly.
"You've made a mess in the end, it seems. But no, I don't think its really your fault this time. I might have said just that eventually." he stopped. "No, frustration would probably made me say something worse. I'll go talk to her." he frowned, seemingly puzzled. "What do you think it meant for her, 'giving part of herself'?"
"I wish I knew. However,its clear thats what made her go crazy. She barely reacted before I said that." she smiled. "But I think it means something to her, to know that you like her. I'm not Joan, but I really think its important to her."
He nodded. "Maybe so." he went to the door. Cindy started following, when he turned to her again, a very small, very sad smile on his tired face. "But its not true." She had no time to react before he continued. "I don't like her, Cindy." He opened the door, glanced outside bleakly.
"I love her." and with that calm, remarquable statement, the young man left.
As for Cindy, it was a long time before her mouth closed. When it did, she still felt lost. These street fighters. How strange a bunch they are. Feelings wrapped up in cold pride the lot of them. She was glad she was just a 'normal' agent of SCD.
But, more then ever, she wished them both to mend and understand each other. They so needed that.
* * * * * * * * * *
That evening...
"So, ye almost got whipped, is that it?" asked Mark nastily.
"I most certainly did NOT!" cried Jeremy, outraged. "They were amateurs, the whole lot of them. I got worse from single guys or girls - but THOSE were experienced fighter, not thugs."
Mark snickered. Few things made the young guy angry quick, so contained was he. But putting any doubt on his fighting skills was one of these few, and so the Scotish man found his custumary phone to the investigating team more fun than usual.
"Fine, fine, lad." he said placatingly. "I don't doubt ye. So, besides that, no problems, huh? That's fine. Seems things are all right for all teams so far. Nemmi and Micheal are out seeing some seedy spots in Argentina and found nothing, and I'm told Giorgio and Julia's team have encountered no problem preparing that strike against that Dis Khandu group in Egypt. A calm couple a days, lad."
"I'm surprised Gio and our local little shade haven't killed each other by now. All things aside, can you patch me through to Joan? I need to talk to her."
"No need for that, she's fiddling in the computer room with me." he raised his already high-pitched voice to a grating screech. "JOAN! PHONE! ITS JER!!" He saw Joan wince to his satisfaction, just as Jeremy cursed and grumbled from the phone. Sometimes he actually liked having a weird, high-pitched voice.
Joan gave him a dirty look, than picked up the phone next to her own computer, while Mark hung up his end and turned back to analysing information from and for the various SCD teams. Still, he couldn't help but alleviate the boredom of the task by listening to Joan's half of the conversation.
"Hello, Jer, how is the mission? ... That's great...yes...huh huh...a problem? Okay, What is it?" Mark's ears perked up upon hearing the word 'problem'. For a few minutes, silence reigned as Joan listened to their teammate's description. Then she gave a slight growl. "Dammit. I see, I know. Still, she should have minded her business. Hum? Yes, I suppose...but be careful. She may show a very tough exterior, but people like her are very fragile emotionally. I know. I know, I know, just don't push her too hard."
Mark closed his ears to the rest of the conversation, which was nothing more than gossip and trivialities from then on. He sighed. From the words he had heard - he could tell who the 'she' which messed up was - and from the tone that his warning had gone unheeded, as usual. All of it wasn't surprising. In fact, it was mildly amusing when he wasn't involved.
"Right. Hear from you soon." Joan hung up. And immediately exploded. "IDIOT!"
"Who, me?" asked the dark-haired agent with mock hurt in his voice. "I'm hurt, lass. In all the years I've known ye, I thought that you liked me or at least..."
"Oh, cut the melodrama! You know it was Cindy I was talking about." Joan snapped.
"Of course its Cindy. Its always Cindy. So what did she do THIS time?"
Joan told him, in very colorful and ungentle terms, what exactly the redhead agent had done. Mark listened with amusement, but also with more than a bit of despair. He had known that something like this was going to happen. Had told the well-meaning but socially clumsy girl that it would happen. And the result had been the same, anyway. When was that woman going to learn her 'help' was the worst thing that could happen to a person with personal problems? Never, he guessed.
"So, she did her usual stunt. With the expected result." he sighed. "And what is Jer going to do about it?"
Joan shrugged and hesitated. "Not much he can do, except try to clear things out with her."
"Hmmm. Do you think it would work right now?" Mark inquired.
"I don't know. Honestly, I don't know. I hope so."
There was silence for a long while afterwards.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later...
Someday you'll have to open up to someone Cammy. You can't live with this forever. Better to tell it to someone you trust and get it over with.
Those were the words Joan told her during the last therapy session. Even now, the young woman recognized that it was sage advice given by a very level-headed person, and that she should heed it. But she never did. She never could open up to anyone, could never told what she remembered of her time in Shadowlaw.
With Bison.
But everytime she even thought about telling someone, the pain came, overflowing her mind, rendering it numb with fright and horror. She coulldn't bare to tell anyone that. They couldn't understand, what they did to her, was she was forced to do, what she was forced to feel - if allowed to feel anything at all. They couldn't know.
You have to give a part of yourself.
But which part of herself can she give to anyone, if she couldn't know what these parts truly were beyond indistinct shapes and locked-up feelings? How could she find it within herself to care and trust when all she felt inside were hurt, fear and humiliation? The few answers that drifted to her were all bleak and hopeless. But the worst was this unanswerable question: did she still want to care?
The dash she had made had taken her to the small gymnasium of the hotel they were staying in. It was empty, which suited her fine. She didn't need anyone prying and asking whether or not she was alright. As if people needed to ask. Any dimwit could see she wasn't. But she refused to answer questions or to make contact with anyone yet. She couldn't tell how she'd react to it right now.
Jeremy. He was special to her, very special. Had always been, from the first time they met. He was the one who, more than anyone else, had allowed her to make it that far. She couldn't believe he wanted something she wasn't prepared to give, especially when she couldn't tell what she really felt towards him, much less express it. Still, when Cindy had told her she might lose him, lose what she had, she had felt so...numb. So full of dread. Why was that? Why?
"Whoa, you look troubled, lady. Anything wrong."
Self-preservation instincts and years of training kicked through her confusion as the curious, pleasant voice rang out. She whirled around, towards the entrance, in a wary pose, ready to defend if need be. The man looking back at her, taken aback but still smiling, was of average build and height, with jeans, sneakers and a green shirt. His face - ordinary features with light brown hair - and demeanor seemed extremely pleasant. But, still, how had he ever gone inside the entrance like that without her noticing him? Only Julia Simmons was able to do that so well. Or was she so confused that her sixth sense was momentarily shot?
The man held up his hands as if to ward a blow. "Hey, lady, don't get so worked up! Geez, sorry, I was just asking, okay?" his smile never faded even as he said so, and this gave Cammy a very eery feeling.
That and the fact that the tone and pleasantness seemed so fake.
"Don't sneak up on me. Ever." she said softly.
"I wouldn't dream of it, lady. Who would want to get in the badside of one of Bison bitch dolls?" Was the pleasant reply. So pleasant was it, in fact, that it took her a moment to realize what this man had just said. She froze and stared, the 'eery feeling' increasing into dread mixed with stupefaction..
"W-what did you say?" she asked, unable to keep a quaver from entering her voice. The man noticed, and his eyes acquired a cruel twinkle. He started to walk towards her, calm and composed.
"Do you want to hear a nice little story?" he asked gleefully. He didn't wait for a reply. "Once, many decades ago, there was this group, which was founded much earlier by the way. It was a very special group, who had found an energy that wasn't based on willpower and human life - you would call that CHI but they called that power Inner Powers. What they had discovered was the energy to affect people in their minds and, if they were very powerful, in their bodies, or in illusions and strange conjurings. It wasn't based on the life of a human, but the energy that was formed from the planet in contact with a human. They called it Outer Powers. A person could have both energies, althought most people had neither and never really knew of their exsistence."
He stopped for a moment, thinking. Cammy knew she had to act right then and there, but she was spellbound by the strange, fervent tone the man spoke with.
"But there were two there who were different. Powerful in BOTH they actually were, a very rare occurence indeed. The weaker of the two, the woman, had no intention of following the secret, manipulative ways of the group and left to help people with her powers and knowledge. Those of the group that tried to prevent it, she dealt with efficiently, and was left alone. The man was something else. He had enormous chi in his body and his power - psy - was tremendously high. He learned to merge both, and became probably the strongest member of the group he was in. He, too, left, but not with the intention of helping people. He wanted to RULE them with fear and strength, and so he founded his own group." He smirked. "As time wore on, he decided to use his powers to control warriors that attracted his interest. He would have them captured, then broke their will and seeded them with his powers, rendering them nothing more than walking dolls that did his bidding. They would do anything he asked without any complaint. And that suited him just fine."
Cammy was starting to shiver. She knew what this strange man was recounting now. Once again, the memories threatened to flood her. Images of herself, bound, helpless. Faces that came and went, leaving pain in their wake. The image of a huge, muscular man in a scarlet unform, looking down at her in contempt and, firighteningly, a bit of lust, his eyes glowing with power. Images of this same man, taking advantage of her helplessness, until she felt she wanted to die and forget. She fought down those memories, hugging herself, her mind reeling. She almost forgot that the man in front of her was an enemy entirely.
"Touched a nerve? Well, it should. After all, the man created three female dolls to do what he wanted." his smirk twisted even more. "ANYTHING he wanted. But one of the three, by some miracle, escaped that control, and joined forces with people that were dedicated in destroying her former master and people like him." he sighed, stepping nearer. "A nice story, very... refreshing. But there is a question that I've been burning to ask. No, two."
He was barely a meter from her now, his smirk in place his eyes now blazing with cruel amusement. It seemed as if he was certain she couldn't hurt him, even at this distance. She gritted her teeth, as anger and indignation - feelings that she never had felt so well in a long time, started to replace her confusion and her fear. How dare he come so close, spouting such terible things and looking so GODDAMN SMUG ABOUT IT!!! IF HE WANTED A FUCKING FIGHT, HE WAS GONNA HAVE ONE!!!
The man stopped, undaunted by the fury that was growing in her eyes and spoke. "Tell me, Cammy White. How does it feel to be a doll? And how did it feel to be screwed by Bison?" And he chuckled, cruelly, maniacally.
And something snapped within Cammy then. For months she'd been fighting, plagued with nightmares she'd never been able to tell anyone, memories of events that had scarred her very soul, her very being. And this - this BASTARD - just swaggers into the place and demeans her in the most brutal way imaginable, forcing her to relive these nightmares and then treating it all as a JOKE!!! The furious snarl that erupted surprised her in its sheer ferocity, as she swiftly bacxked her clenched fist and prepared to punch the asshole with all the strength she could muster.
Just as she was about to let go, however, pain erupted in her fist, pain so intense that she saw stars for a moment. She gasped and clutched it, involuntarily dropping her guard. She saw the kick that was coming at her, however, and blocked it with her other hand. She swiftly brought her feet up for a retaliating kick. Immediately the pain came, intense, from her legs. She went down to one knee, puzzled and frightened by her body's atrocious behaviour. The man yet seemed unfazed.
"Terrible, ain't it?" Not being able to control your own actions?" he said, with amusement and yet some relief.
Her eyes widened. "You...?" she couldn't frame the question. He seemed to know it anyway, even to be waiting for it. He crouched near her, now completely confident.
"Oh, no, lady, its not me." he smiled that cruel smile again. "Well, not really. You can thank Bison for that little inconvenience, too."
She could only stare, horrified and speechless.
"Bison had you under his COMPLETE control for YEARS! He seeded you with his Outer Powers to do that. Now you've broken throught that control - it still staggers me that you did - but bits and parts of that power still remain to be utilized by someone from my spheres of power." he shrugged. "Oh, I can't make you do what I want, but I can PREVENT you from doing things that would cause me harm - like kicks and punches." With snake-like speed he reached out and grasped her chin. "In the end, you're nothing more than a doll to me. Useless and powerless."
She let out a yell at him touching her, shrugging his hand, lashing out with her other hand. The pain came, but she fought it down, using her new-found rage to keep the punch going. The pain became almost unbearable and she nearly blacked out, but she did manage to score a hit.
He hadn't been expecting it. Her vision fazed out by pain momentarily, she still heard him cry out in pain. It hadn't been a very successful hit - to her, it was in fact a lame one - but at least it had actually HURT the crazy, cruel bastard. She felt some twisted elation for a moment. The moment died quickly, however, as the gasps of pain changed into twisted, exultant laughter that echoed through the gymnasium. He laughed so hard and so lightly that it was a wonder that he had felt the blow at all. Or maybe it was the violence he had liked. Whatever it was, Cammy was certain of one thing: this guy was stir crazy. She shook her head, trying to regain her eyesights, which had dimmed from the pain. She vaguely saw him crounch anew, this time from a safe distance.
"Gheheehee...heh...I...heh...must commend you for that herculean effort. Now I can understand how you were able to ultimately break Bison's control." he giggled like a child who had just gotten a new toy. "Oh, you and Storm definitely can provide me the amusement I've been needing for a while! Here's the free info to give you guys a fighting chance: tell that Jeremy that you and he better go visit his hometown right away for, in one week, something's gonna happen to a certain Mary Ann. You got that?"
Her eyesight was rapidly returning, and she could see the man in detail now. He had a deep red mark covering his right cheek - the hit she scored - but he seemed oblivious to it as he still smiled his smug and cruel smile. She tensed, ready to spring on him. He couldn't help but see it. He tsked.
"Ah ah ah!" he said gleefully "No point trying to get me again. It took you a lot to hit me that one time. I doubt you can do it again. But if you want to try, go ahead." When she didn't move, inwardly seething, he stood up. "Didn't think so. So, remember my message. I think its a fair warning, don't you?" He turned around and guffawed as he walked to the double door of the gym. Cammy gritted her teeth. How she wished she could shut that lunatic up! If only she could actually HIT him, she would give him a trashing he'd never forget.
"Damn you, bastard. I'll never forget this." she growled, with tears of pain anf anger in her eyes. He stopped laughing then, turning around, his face suddenly icy. When he spoke, his voice was calm, yet it seemed all the more dangerous because of that.
"I hope you don't, doll." he said evenly. "And if you want to pin a name on this face, remember that my name is Kale. And that you and Storm, you're just pawns to me right now."
And he left, leaving Cammy to her humiliation and her emerging feelings.
* * * * * * * * * *
Five minutes later...
Jeremy had been looking for Cammy up and down for the past fifteen minutes, but so far had found no trace of the young woman. He was starting to get worried, it wasn't like her to leave without some good reason. But, still, the present situation wasn't usual. And what he felt wasn't usual.
His declaration to Cindy had surprised him almost as much as it did her, althought he did not show it. Still, he wondered how much of it was true. He cared for her, liked her even, but did he really love her? This he couldn't readily answer. Could he love a woman who barely seemed to acknowledge his presence? He knew that he could never do so, no matter how the girl would look or behave.
But there was something he felt from her, an impression which refused to let go of him. True, she never expressed it, but there were signs that she cared. The long looks she sometimes gave him when she thought he wasn't looking, the fact that she gave him a little more time to recover from a good blow at training than she would any of the others.
He sighed. Why was he getting into this again? She seemed to want nothing more than this, but still...
Then what he had thought before flared back into his mind. He smacked his head with his palm, disgusted and angry at himself. Training. The gym. He never looked in the gym! What a fool he could be sometimes. He stood up from his bed, where he had been contemplating, bidding his aches to be gone and starting for the door. He was just about to reach for the door when it opened with force. He had to backtrack in order to avoid it, and looked at the one who had flung it open. Unsurprisingly, it was the object of the last fifteen minutes of his life. Surprisingly, she had a look that was as far from emotionless as could be. He was so stunned by the sudden change he stopped all movement.
She saw him immediately, and almost pounced at him. This simple rush scattered his wits, for this was a situation he had never TRULY thought would happen. He almost stepped back when she grasped his shoulders and shook him urgently.
"Jer! Jer!" she called frantically. "We have to go to America, to your hometown!"
That shook him out of his daze. "W-w-what? My hometown? Greenway? Err...sure. If you want it that badly, we can always drop in on my family during vacation. I'm up for a long one, so..."
"Its not that. Its, that guy, he just...." she stopped, as if her emotions were overwhelming her. Knowing how she usually was, Jeremy thought they probably were. Not knowing what else to do, he disengaged her hands from his shoulders, and closed the door. He then turned to face her.
"Okay, Cammy. What happened?"
She seemed more herself now - the man cringed when he realized he was starting to consider an emotionless Cammy 'normal' - her face and demeanor more neutral. But there was a nervousness in her that he had never seen before. Something in him liked seeing ANYTHING from her, while another part started to freak out.
"I received a message from the Circle. They told me...that you had to go back to America, to your hometown, or something would happen to someone called Mary Ann in one week."
If someone had kicked all the air in his lungs, he never could have felt worse. Mary Ann? The joyous, bouncy little girl that never seemed to be sad or discouraged? The little kid that was his sister in all but blood? He suddenly found himself sitting on the floor, with Cammy looking at him with plain concern - another novelty from her. This time, however, he cared not for the changes as much. His head was but a mass of fear of confusion.
But the Storms had never been ones to give in to such things, and he was no exception. Determination quickly replaced anything else, and he surged to his feet with renewed energy. He faced his partner squarely.
"I'll call Mark and arrange things. Wanna come?" he thought he knew what the answer would be, and reached for his SCD cellphone.
"Yes, I will."
He stopped, once again taken aback. What a strange day this was turning out to be. She looked right back at him, her gaze firm yet uncertain.
"Jer," she began. "A-am I...?" she stopped, coughed, her eyes showing despair and sadness. "D-do you think I'm j-just a doll?" her voice became more uncertain, broken. "Am I losing you?" she whispered.
Jeremy now wished to be altogether elsewhere. Not because he was cowardly, or because he hated her weakness. But he didn't want to see her like this. He'd never been good at seeing people bare their souls, had never known what to say. Joan was good at saying the right things, and Claudia, Samantha and, to a point, Mattew had that knack as well. But none of them were there to help. This was to be his problem entirely. So he did the only thing he thought he could do, the only thing that seemed to work for him: he said what he thought.
He clapped her shoulder reassuringly, startling her out of her depressive bout, and spoke gently. "The next time you think that I would answer 'yes' to either question, you and I are going to fight. You ARE NOT a doll, you ARE NOT losing me and I never want to hear things like that from you again. Got that?"
She seemed to only nod at him, her face resetting itself into a neutral mien. But Jeremy thought he saw a ligh in her blue eyes that had never been there before. It gave him hope...for so many things.
He had needed that hope.
He grasped his cellphone and started to dial. "Okay, Cammy. Time for me to show you my folks, it seems!" he smiled, but his eyes held steel and worry over his little sister. "America, here we come!"
_____________________________________________________________
Here we are! I'm about to give some life back into the older part of Jeremy's life. Next time around, expect to see old characters come back, and some new ones to boot. Plus, another Street Fighter joins the game.
I hope you liked reading this Chapter! See you in Chapter 12!
As always, I crave FEEDBACK and IDEAS!
Jeremy
