Will and Fate
By Jeremy

Chapter 13

August 28, 1997

Montreal, Canada. A metropolis of one million inhabitants with three millions in the agglomeration. To Canadians it was one of the symbols of their country's culture, economic strength and industrial capabilities. But within this cosmopolitan, three centuries old city, there was decay and decadence, well-hidden behind its sparkling facade of prosperity. Although this place could proudly show international heights of social and economical refinements, it also sadly boasted international lows of the same.

Sebastian Sharell was one of these well-known lows.

But the man called Jann Wa Sann cared not one little bit about that. The only thing he knew was that, every three years since 1973, the man organized a tournament for his own amusement. The prize? One million american dollars and the non-obligatory possibilty to defeat the still-undefeated Sharell himself. Jann Wa Sann was there for both. And he was confident he could get both. After all, he was the most focused, most powerful Ju Jitsu black belt in eastern Canada and the northeastern States. In all the competitions he had been in no one had ever been close to his level. He had remained undefeated for a long time, and finally elation had gone away to bleak boredom. What was the point to being undefeated? Better to take chances to become even stronger. That was another reason he was here. Thus far, he still proved unsurprisingly undefeatable.

And here he was in the quarter-finals, surrounded by a cheering crowd, resting beside the elavated plateau that was the fighting ring and waiting for the next match to begin. He hoped the next opponent would prove to be SOME challenge...

"FOR OUR NEXT MATCH, LET ME PRESENT THE CONTENDERS!" shouted the announcer into his mike. "TO MY LEFT, TRICE JU JITSU CHAMPION, JANN WA SANN!!"

He stepped onto the ring, his slender silouhette all grace and composure. Wa Sann wasn't a very tall man, or a very built one. In fact, he looked like a normal chinese man, only perhaps slightly more athletic-looking. In fact, had he not been wearing a gi, no one might have know he was a martial artist, a champion. It was deceiving look, that had caused many - especially in this competition, to underestimate him. He patiently waited for his opponnent to be called.

"AND TO MY RIGHT, THE KYOKUSHIN KARATE CHAMPION, JEREMY STORM!"

Wa Sann studied his opponent as he came up. Sligtly taller than the average, athletic, slightly lean, build, all worked out muscle, not a drop of fat. He was wearing white karate gi pant, but instead of the top he wore a simple black, sleeveless t-shirt that showed slender buty well-muscled arms and strong shoulder. He also wore black gloves that completely covered his hands and forearms. As he studied him, he found his opponent gauging him with steel-grey eyes. He almost licked his lips in anticipation. Yes, that young man - younger than he, no more than twenty - was a master of his art, a tried and tested fighter who had nothing to prove to anyone as far as skills were concerned. Yes, this one WOULD be a challenge.

As the two strode to the center of the ring to listen to the VERY basic instructions this fight entailled, Wa Sann smiled. "I hope for us to have a good fight."

"I hope so too, sir. But sadly for you, I will win - for I have no choice." was the calm, mild reply. As he returned to his place to wait for the signal to begin, the Ju Jitsu champion wondered what that meant. He saw the karate champion crouch to the edge of the ring and exchange a few words with an athletic-looking blond woman who wore her hair in long braids. Herserious eyes and the scar that didn't manage to mar her striking beauty also showed the signs of experience. She too, if he remembered correctly, was a participant. He shook the thought out of his head as the announcer shouted "READY!"

Both men took immediate fighting stances. "FIGHT!"

Wa Sann lunged immedieately, thrusting forward with a punch, blocked expertly by the younger man. He followed by a low punch to the ribs, comboed with a precise, quick kick aimed at his opponent's right leg. However, quick as they were, the karate expert saw them. He flung the rib attack away, sidestepping the kick while slapping the opposite shoulder. That had the final result of turning him completely around, and before he could recover, there was a sharp thrust from behind, and he lost his equilibrium, only finding it by rolling forward and coming back to his ready stance in a flash. The other man had barely moved at all, still retaining a calm stance.

Wa Sann was stunned, and a little angry. Never before had his first attacks been shrugged off thus. His opinion of his opponent rose further and he had to fight down the urge to smile. At last, an opponent with which he actually would have to use his superior speed. He gauged his opponent again, this time lunging with cold calculus and incredible speed. In a flash he was upon him, his foot sweeping toward his head...

...and missing! The man had dodged at the last moment, making his kick a completely useless one. However, he was not done, and swiped the feet from under his adversary. He fell backward to Wa Sann's satifaction. It was short-lived, however, as the man brought his feet upward and dealt a quick blow to his chin that made him step back. He felt it only a moment, but that was enough for his opponent to roll back to his feet, to a ready position, calm as ever. The crowd roared over the last display

Now the Ju Jitsu master was annoyed. And awed. Who was this guy?!? What kind training had he followed, what kind of battles had he fought, to enable him this degree of tactical knowledge and precision?

Then he heard the young, blond lady shout to the grey-eyed, brown-haired man. "Jer! Stop stalling the fight! We're on a tight schedule!!" The man looked mildly annoyed, but nodded. He then attacked for the first time since the beginning of the fight.

He received the attacks full force, quick jabs, slashes, sweeps and kicks, following no pattern that he could see but forming a terrifying whole. He dodged and blocked as fast as he could, using a speed and technique he had honed for twenty years, and finding himself barely holding on. He was no longer angry. He was appalled.

And then he opened his guard for a bare moment, exposing his abdomen for a split second. It told. His opponent had been waiting for the slip, and struck him with the knee, right in his stomach. The blow was such that for a moment he was pushed off his feet, landing badly. And it was in that single moment that he felt it. Something he had never thought before.

I am going to lose.

He scrambled to his feet, hampered by the sickening pain in his stomach, his breath cut off. He barely dodged the back-kick from the other, and fell when he received a follow-up kick in the chest. He fell to his knees. His energy was spent. His strength was gone. His opponent, not even winded. There was only one thing left to do.

"I...I forfeit!" he croaked, but it was strong enough to be heard. The crowd cheered the victor, who waved to them once before turning to him. He extended a helping hand. Wa Sann shook his head.

"I need no help." he lurched to his feet. "You are a powerful man." he stated.

"That remains to be seen. But you're good, I could tell. It was a good match."

"Yes." he coughed. "And now have found a reason to continue to improve my training!" he stated decisively.

The younger man nodded. "I'm glad." with that he turned back to wave at the cheering throng, walking over the blond female fighter, who seemed annoyed about something. As he left, he heard the last comments pass between the two.

"Took you long enough." said the woman. "Ibuki reported in just now."

"Is she in?"

A pause. "Yes, she is."

He was never to understand these sentences, nor did he care. He had been defeated today, had found someone far greater than he. It was a very humbling experience to be sure. But he also felt that now, he could find a reason to train.

For now he knew it wasnt in vain.

* * * * * * * * * *

Five minutes later...

Some say breaking into a building depends on skill and said building's level of security. In this case, an underground complex with the highest security, a good stealthy person might take an hour to get inside it, a master taking perhaps thirty to fourty minutes.

Ibuki was inside within fifteen minutes.

She was just inside the first basement floor, crouched in a dark corner. Her stealth was very precious to her now, especially since stealth might be the only way she might successfully fulfill the mission she had agreed to do for the SCD. It wasn't exactly the kind of place she'd want to spend her vacation in, and she really wanted to get out soon. And that meant using all of her Shinobi skills and all her wits to make sure she was one hundred percent efficient. This was no time for a blunder.

"Okay, I'm inside." she barely whispered to the listening-speaking device lodged in her ear. AS softly as she had spoken, it picked her up. "Picking me up?"

"Good work lass. Aye, I am." said a high-pitched male voice in her ear. "You are now in sub-basement one. Small, mostly a guard floor. Scanner picking up eight movement sources, two heading towards you. Be careful."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her movement. The warning had been unnecessary; she felt their presence from far off. Loud, sturdy feet that moved without an hint of grace. Hired muscle. Corrupted guards. Small fry to her. She heard the two men talk as they walked what could only be a cursory examination of the outer door that lead out of the complex. They didn't expect trouble. That was an added edge she was glad to have.

The two men came around, wearing dark, guard-like uniforms. They were joking in the french language. She did not understand the language, but it was clear the the two were having a ride over what one of them was saying. She managed to look at them. She read little skill in their demeanor, their stance. And they were deeply absorbed in whatever they were doing, too much to notice an averagely stealthy person, let alone a Shinobi. Without hesitation, seizing her chance, she made her move. She took out one of her kunai, threw it expertly, and launched herself into the air, all in one motion.

The two men looked at her as she made her move. One took the kunai directly inthe face before he could even realize she was there, and the other barely got around to opening his mouth before her feet conneected to his own face. Landing softly, she caught the two men before they landed and made a noise. She managed to drag them to a dark corner, where they would remain for at least two hours. More than enough time for her.

"Okay, two of them out. Where are the other six?" she asked.

"Four are in the large room to your left, of which you should be nearing the door. Two others in the backroom near the elevator."

She saw the door, pressed herself to the wall, barely breathing, as silent as a cat. She heard noises from the room, grumbling and cheers and active discussion. She peeked quickly, taking in a snapshot look. Four men, sitting in front of a television, gesticulating towards it and payinmg much attention to it. She took another peek and recognized the sport. Football. She smirked slightly, taking in the tense atmosphere. These four guys weren't paying any kind of attention to her, completely focused as they were on the game. A game which could go on for hours still. There was no danger of being discovered there, she knew, and dismissed these four men from her list of problems.

"Was that football?"

"Yes." she answered.

A mild chuckle. "Lucky you, lass. That's six down. Two to go."

She was almost to the smaller room when she heard voices again. She stopped, tensed. Female voice. Cold, clinical. Guards as well, probably. They were talking in monosyllabs and came out of the room before she hid herself. They saw her at once. Instinct and Shinobi traning immediately took over as she ran to the two women. Ten feet to run. An instant. And they had frozen in surprise for that instant. She deftly kicked one of the women at the side of the head twice in quick succession, this time not bothering with the noise of the body falling down. The other woman recovered her wits during the attack, and opened her mouth to call out, reaching for the radio at her side.

"HEY! I NEE-mph!" She started to shout, only to be cut off when Ibuki clamped her hand firmly over the guard's mouth. Before anything else happened, she gave a slashing jab to the guard's throat. The guard made a gagging noise before her eyes rolled backward and she lost counciousness. With an inaudible sigh of relief, Ibuki let her fall to the floor. That had been sloppy of her. She looked at the two women with a glare, before realizing the one she had taken out first was small. In fact, barely bigger than she.

"Okay, that was a nice job, from what I heard. " the voice in her ear shrieked out calmly. "Now let's move on. Second floor's a preparation floor, so there'll be an helluva lot of people."

"A lot, huh?" she questioned mildly, still staring at the female guard's prone form.

"Aye. You having an idea?"

Sha smiled slighlty. "Yes. A very simple yet effective one."

Moments later, Ibuki, garbed in the slightly oversized grey guard uniform, was strollin inside the elevator. She didn't mind that the uniform looked all little big - she could work around the handicap to make herself nothing but a shadow with this outfit.

"This is easier than I thought it would be." she mused aloud.

"Now don't get cocky." the voice remonstrated sternly. "Its just beginning."

The door closed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ten minutes later...

"And she's clear inside now, laddies. Don't know where you got her for this mission, but she's perfect for the job! With her action and yours, we can get that bloody murderous asshole Kale a time he'll NEVER forget!!!"

Jeremy and Cammy exchanged looks at the vehement tone Mark's voice had taken during the last sentence. He had quickly come back for duty, but the death of Cindy and the Circle's involvement. He had been itching to pay back that organization. Hard. Which is what they were doing right now.

"Good." was all Cammy thought safe to answer back.

"How are things on your end?"

Jeremy went to reply. "Well, I'm..."

"Jeremy's just beaten his opponent and he's a finalist. I'm in semi-finals and should begin my fight in just about...one or two minutes." Cammy replied, overriding him. "Then the most beat up of the two will forfeit this tournament so the other may fight refreshed against Sharell."

"Did I hear 'forfeit the tournament'? from you two?" Mark asked sardonically. His voice went unfocussed for a moment. "Steve! Got some news for ya! Its incredible."

The braided woman frowned. "Well, none of the opponents here are any match for us. And a fight between us would be...well...pointless, since we're roughly equal in fighting."

"Good job. With Sharell out of the picture, the info in our hands, we'll be able to deal Kale's affairs in North America a crippling blow. We might actually weaken him enough to rightly wipe him off the face of Europe." Again the unnatural, near-sadistic tone. Yes, he had taken Cindy's death hard. Very. Just at that moment the semi-final fight was announced.

"Gotta go. Talk to you later." she signed off.

"Cammy..."

"Tell me later." she commanded quickly. "I'm sure it can wait." She was too occupied to take notice of the disgruntled expression her partner wore for a moment. She stepped up to the fighting ring as she was called. Her opponent did the same. She studied him quickly.

Herman Jones was his name. Over six feet tall, built like an ox, he had shown little speed and just about no technique. The only thing that saved him from being nothing more than a thug was the strength of his arms. His fists had knocked out more than one opponent in only one punch. That was why he truly deserved his nickname of The Ironhand. But that was all he was. The kind of guy who'd fall to any skilled fighter. It was a piece of cake to her. His endurance might make him last a minute or two, but she'd take her speed up against his strength anytime.

As for the Ironhand, he seemed to think as little of her as she of him. As he surveyed her, he seemed to think "what is that fragile little thing doing here?" What a fool, judging people by appearances - a mistake that only amateurs made. It seemed Jer was the one who had been lucky - HIS opponent, although weaker, had seemed a man with a true fighting spirit. A guy worth fighting. Not this oversized grunt.

"Gonna make ya suffer, darlin'" sneered the muscular man.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever." she answered neutrally. The tone of indifference told. She could tell by the dangerous narrowing of her opponent's eyes.

They each took thee position and waited for the fight to begin.

"READY!"

"Cammy!" shouted her partner from the side. "You got him wrong. You can't judge him like you're doing. If you do.."

"FIGHT!

The Ironhand came forward in a rush, probably wishing to barrel her out of the ring. She sidestepped him as he came close, letting his own momentum nearly disqualify HIM from the fight. She kicked him in the side for good measure, keeping well away from his strong but slow arms as he tried to either catch her or hit her. She stepped back as he fully regained his balance, assuming a firm defensive stance. He glared daggers at her. No longer did he find her pitiful, he clearly wanted to fight all out now. It was more than fine by her.

She let him charge again - a good tactic that let him misuse the sole advantage he had, which was strength. Her attacks would be harder to get in unless she fought with her more advanced techniques - and she wanted to save that as a surprise in the last fight. So all she had to do was tire him out. That meant to dodge. A lot.

The second rush was made with more cold fury than before, but it was more cuatious. H estill adavanced fast, but he actually now tried to hit her with focussed punches. However, the whrestler friend of Jeremy, Alex, had showed her how people roughly his size fought, and although she'd have trouble with the blond giant, this guy was mediocre in comparison.

She thus dodged out of the way of everything he threw at her, giving a well-placed punch here, a swift kick there. To outsiders it truly appeared to be a game to her, and the crowd soon started to react accordingly. They started to jeer the hammerhand as the tall man hit only air while his quick, slender opponent was making constant hits. It was making him mad with frustration and shame, as he desperately tried to find an occasion to fight back. An occasion that seemed to be well-nigh impossible right about now.

But the occasion came. Not from a slip-up on Cammy's part, but from a coincidence. As he gave another useless punch, she leapt over him, to quick to be caught. However, as his other hand grasped about fore her overhead, it grabbed her left braid. She couldn't help but cry out as her scalp seemed to erupt on fire, and she both lost her focus and her balance in that moment. Her opponent saw he had the opportunity to get some payback, and did not hesitate to take it.

Before she could bring herself back to a fighting stance, a feet lanced out, taking her by surprise, especially since the man had used nothing but his feet in the matches before. She had time to contract her abdominal muscles, but it still took her breath right out of her. She looked towards her opponent, trying to ignore the pain...

...and her head seemed to explode in pain as the man's fist connected. She felt herself flung backward. For a moment, she couldn't see anything. All was pain. She was feeling him coming, now assured he could finish her off.

"I'm gonna make you suffer, bitch doll."

The last two words, bitch doll, made her mind reel. Those words had been spoken before. By another man. A much, MUCH more powerful man, who had taken his time in breaking her in both mind and body before locking her mind away inside herself.

The damn monster...

"You will eventually bow before me. You have no choice."

He'd taken everything away...

"Poor little bitch doll, bereft of strength."

And he didn't even care he did...

"I've just realized that it would be such a shame to let an athletic female body go to waste. Do you not think so, my doll?"

...That bastard...

"Resisting? By all means, resist! I like my women feisty, hehehe!"

....SHE'LL KILL HIM!!!!!!

The pain was gone, and with it anything that even reseembled ethics or fair-play. She dodged under his attack like a snake, not caring about him. He didn't exist. The ring didn't exist. The crowd didn't exist. Nothing existed. Except hatred. And a pain that tore at her soul.

"CANNON DRILL!!!"

She smashed into the man sending him backward, doubling from a blow that had been fueled by every bit of chi energy she had. His face twisted in pain and he obviously screamed. She didn't care. She couldn't She rolled under him, put her feet up...

"CANNON SPIKE!!!"

She went up and he with her, fifteen feet into the air, his muscular chest smashed by the undilluted fury of her attacks. She landed on her feet, and he landed heavily. Still shew saw him trying to get up. With a cry she let loose a kick to his head. And another. And another. Screaming each time, with all her hatred, all her pain. He wasn't moving anymore. And still she was compelled to hit him. How long this might gone on, she never could tell. Too long. But she was abruptly stopped by something hitting her on the side forcing her to break off her attacks. She turned in the direction of this new threat and saw another man, in a fighting stance, waiting for her. She charged him and lashed out with her fist.

He caught it with one hand, and with the other, slapped her across the face.

It hadn't been a strong slap. It had in fact been a very reluctant one. But the action broke throught the red haze the painful memories had created. Reason returned, and she found herself looking up at her frie-her partner, who was holding her other arm and looking at her with a mix of anger, sadness, and fear.

"Jer...?" she asked, puzzled. She was cut off, and surprised at the mixed ire and concern in his voice.

"Have you gone crazy?!? I don't care what you say, Joan and Julia are right, we're getting some help from Rose. You need it!" he pointed to the falen man. "Look what you almost did, for God's sake!!!"

She looked. Her eyes widened. The man was laying very still, surrounded by people who appeared to be medics. He was bleeding in many places, and his limbs anbd torso looked ajar somewhat. She'd nearly killed him. Even now, it would be a miracle if he recovered completely. She looked at her hands, unable to speak. She had to force the next words out.

"Take on Sharell. I shouldn't." she said, not feeling nearly as confident as she sounded.

He let go of her arm. "I agree."

She walked down the ring, throught the crowd - which fearfully parted for her - and went in search of the nearest bathroom or washroom around. She didn't care. As long as she could find one and lock herself inside.

She could then weep over this without attracting anything but her self-contempt.

* * * * * * * * * *
Twenty minutes later...

Ibuki stealthily walked down the stairs the branched the third level and the fourth. The elevator only went down to the third, which meant getting through the third floor. Not a big problem - the guard clothes and a bit of well-placed Shinobi training had allowed her to pass through it with ease. It had been a storage room crates upon crates lined up, filled with what seemed to the naked eye to be packs of flour. But then things weren't what they seemed. She knew this better than most.

"Drugs...all these?" she had said, unable to blot out the mixed awe and disgust.

"Aye. Mari-juana, ash, cocain...take you pick, its there. There's enough coke around here to addict quite a few people. And it does. Which means Kale makes an hefty sum with this."

"The people I saw working in the second level. Why..." she trailed off.

"Why do they work, knowing this stuff is gonna hurt other people?" Mark had finished quietly. "That's because they're people who have nothing - the rejected, the downtrodden, people with no future and nothing to lose. Its ironic, you know. We fight for a system that allows the creation of the rejected,and it is from the despair of the rejected that people like Kale, Bison and even little bosses like Sharell grow powerful and wealthy from. Its a vicious circle, unending and uncaring." his voice had lost its focus then. "Even taking this place out won't hurt Kale. So the fight will go on. Against Shadowlaw, against the Circle, long after we're both gone. Order and Chaos will always battle on."

That speech had stuck to her mind, possibly because of the bleak truth it contained. Shinobis were no stranger to that 'vicious circle'. They had profitted from that unending battle for hundreds of years, in fact. Her grandfather had once explained that a Shinobi, no matter if he preffered Order or Chaos, had to be impartial, stay in the middle to see all the possibilities. Ibuki had always preferred Order and those who fought for it. She knew that, one day, she would have to put her self on neutral grounds. She just hoped that day was far off.

She came down the last step, and crouched by the closed door that led to the fourth level. "I'm there. So where is that computer room?"

"Open the door and take left. You'll see a fork. Take left again and continue until you see a door labeled N-2. That's the place."

"How do you know this?"

"By little bits of information now-dead Circle turncoats and infiltrators leaked to us." was the grim reply."

"I see."

"I reckon you do. Move." That was clearly the end of the discussion.

She did move then. She looked out the door, seeing no one, and slipped outside. She walked through the corridor, seeing the fork in front of her. And then she heard steps. From the right branch of the fork. She knew that there was no place to hide. A guard, she could handle, but it might bring others, or trigger an alarm or something. She just didn't know the terrain - the info SCD had about this level was sketchy at best.

She thus did the only thing she could. She straightened out of her cautious, defensive stance, took on the casual air of someone used to the place, and trudged along, taking the left fork, crossing her fingers while fervently praying the guard wouldn't call to her.

Someone was listening to her up there, it seemed, for the guards walked past her and toward the door without even glancing at her. Too preoccupied about something to care. She contained the sigh of relief she was feeling building up. Now was not the time to get too emotional. Now was time for control. She could sigh all she wanted too when the information was taken and she out of the place.

She quickly found the door labeled N-2. Saw it was locked magnetically. One would need a pass to get inside, which she didn't have. Or at least a very nice, compact magnetic scrambler, high-tech and all, at the cutting edge of MI6 technology, which she just happened to have. She put the device on the lock, activated it and waited, scanning down the corridor. It didn't take long. Within exactly twenty-two secondsthe eevice flashed a green light, and she opened the door, taking the scrambler with her.

The N-2 room was larger than it seemed. Maybe it had been used for storage at first, she didn't know. It was spacy. Only the back of the room was filled with computers, modems, scanners, printers and high-tech gew-haws.

"In." she said.

"Good!" said Mark almost gleefully. "Now take the Mosquito and attach it to the side of the nearest computer bank. I'll do the rest from my com."

She took out the Mosquito - dubbed that because of its cutting edge abilty to use microwaves to hack into any system without leaving a trace. It was just another pice of technology that officially would not exist for a few years to come, and was closely guarded by the organisations that had them - and plugged it in as instructed.

"All right, here we go!" squealed the scottish voice. "I hope you're watching this, Cindy! We're gonna hurt them bad!"

She frowned. It wasn't the first time she had heard this man call out to the dead agent. From what she had gathered this man Mark had had quite a crush on her. That was certainly why the man seemed ready to take down the Circle. Romance, sometimes it was such a bore. She was about to ask him how long he would take, when the door slammed open. Two men entered.

Well, two men they were, but it took her a moment to see that it was the case, and that there was nothing wrong with her vision. In dark, overall, black boot, short light-brown hair and pale blue eyes, unreadable expressions, small smile - exactly the same. These men looked like clones. It was worse than twins, in her opinion, for it seemed to her twins had some differences at least. Not them. Copies.

"You have entered..." started one.

"...forbidden zone. You are not..." continued the other.

"...one of use. Therefore you must regretfully...."

"...be eliminated." Immediately they took on fighting stance. Down to an inch, the same. Inwardly Ibuki shivered at such freakish behaviour. Outwardly, she raised a brow.

"And who are you exactly supposed to be?" she asked mildly.

They blinked. Exactly at the same time. Looked at each other and back. Exactly at the same time. What freaks! her mind hollered, you got to be deranged as hell to willingly be that perfect in synchronisation! She gritted her teeth, unheeding the mumbling of Mark, who was lost in hacking Sharell's files.

"Why, we are Tim..." said one.

"...and Jim, the Gauthier Twins." finished the other.

Sme smiled, containing her nervousness at the behaviour she was witnessing. "Culhen?"

"Aye?"

"I'm taking this off. Something came up that needs my undivided attention."

"Wait, what do you..." he started, cut off as she pulled the device of her ear and put it on a computer screen. She took on a fighting stance in front of the clony - was that even a word? - twins. And she smiled. Slightly. Dangerously. In a way that would have made most men run for cover. The Twins didn't.

"Your move." she called, and readied herself for battle.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ten minutes later...

Jeremy was in a foul mood. What had just happened with Cammy off and on the fighting ring - but especially on it - had darkened his temper considerably, and he had spent the time waiting for Sharell in growing agitation and annoyance. It wasn't like him, he knew, to get distracted before a fight, but he couldn't help it. What he'd seen her do, the way she had teared up that slow hulk, the rage she had shown, it made him worry.

He groaned. Here he went again. Worry. All he had done since he had met her was worry. And what's worse, she was starting to deliberately ignore him when he tried to voice them and tended to boss him around. The last week had been particularly vehement, and more than once he had had to hold up scathing retorts. All because Joan had said this seemed to be her true personality reasserting itself. He found that personality to be very unnerving, but had agreed to let her vent on him for a while. But there were limits to what a guy could take. He felt himself nearing those limits.

Anyway, one thing was certain, they had to see Rose. Maybe she could help out. Julia vouched for her and Joan supported. He'd arrange something as soon as this was done. An appointment or whatever. And Cammy would come to it whether she liked it or not. Today, he had had to hit her. Just a little slap. It hadn't hurt her. But it sure as hell had hurt him. He didn't want to do it again.

"Mister Storm?" asked someone gently. A referee, maybe.

"What?" he answered. Angrily. Harshly. Annoyed at having his thoughts interrupted. He needed to calm down, or he'd be repeating Cammy's last performance by default.

The man packpedalled as he stared - probably none-too-gently - into his eyes with dark focus. There was fear there. Jeremy couldn't blame him. With a sigh, he put himself back under control.

"He's ready?" he asked, he received a nod. "About time. Lets get this charade over with." he muttered, and followed the man back to the main room, where the crowd roared in expectation of the next fight. What a bunch of vultures. He waited for the introductions. He was introduced first, and stepped up with a determined air to thunderous applause. Not that he cared - this was SCD business from here on in.

And speaking of SCD business, how was Ibuki faring? Of them all she had the most dangerous job. If she got caught...no, no, she wouldn't. His grandpa had said she could do such an infiltration, and what James Storm trusted, Jeremy Storm trusted. The young Shinobi would be alright. He hoped. Still, he'd call Mark as soon as this fight was finished.

"AND NOW LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT IS MY HONOR TO PRESENT YOU OUR HOST AND UNDEFEATED CHAMPION, SEBASTIAN SHARELL!!!!"

Jeremy looked at the man he wasa to fight, considering him carefully. He was a middle-aged, man, with rather short, thinning gray hair, in a dark blue gi with a bright, golden belt. The man was strongly built, with large hands and slightly over large fet. Very light blue eyes looked out from a proeminent brow and hawkish nose, while a slighlty squarish jaw framed a slight smirk. The man moved with arrogance and supreme confidence. Jeremy was immediately reminded of his cousin, Thomas. That did not help him. Worse, this man showed no marks that usual experienced fighters showed. Marks of care and pain. Slightly crushed noses, scars, something in the eyes, that showed and said "I'm here because I've fought my way here." He saw none of that.

You never went through the loss of a fight, Jeremy thought somberly, this tournanment - its a charade, isn't it? No one that are swayed your way are strong enough to be a danger to you. Unlike me, unlike anyone on the streets I know and respect, you've never been hurt, humiliated or humbled. You disgust me.

This, added to the fact this man sold drugs on the very streets Storms had sometimes fought in, just added to his rising hire. Only the desire to end this quickly swayed him in any way to contain it back to something simmering below the surface. He approached the man for the usual rules. His adversary smirked at him.

"Let's hope you can put a good fight." he said with barely contained arrogance. "I see you wear the gauntlets of the Black Panther, your Uncle, I think. I hope your worthy of that name."

"I have always hoped I was." he said mildly. Inwardly, he sneered. The Black Panther would have wiped the floor with you and you know it. You probably never considered challenging him to a fight. "This must really irk you, to meet someone who can stand up to you, Sharell." he hissed suddenly. "Well, get this, today you're going down. For all the kids you've addicted, for all the hopes you've crushed in good young fighters in this farce of a tournament, I'm going to take you. And defeat you so utterly that you'll NEVER recover." Feeling his anger building, he turned away, calming down. Behind him, there was anger, confusion, indignation. And fear. Oh, yes, there was a lot of that. He took his position and waited for the signal, oblivious to anything until he heard one word.

"FIGHT!"

The two opponents met at the center of the rings with a flurry of punches and kicks. The young Storm lay into his opponent coldly, not missing any holes. The man was good. Naturally very good. Had he taken true risks, challenged people who could defeat him, he probably would've amounted to something really dangerous. As it was, the defense had many holes that any street brawler worth his salt knew how to exploit. Of course, one needed strength to do that effectively. None of the previous opponents had. But Jer had one advantage.

The control of his Chi.

He channeled him through his arm as he stroke a shot at his opponents side, channeled him into his feet to increase the speed and power of a kick to the hip, channeled it to his senses that allowed him to dodge most of his opponent's moves, to dodge most others. Still he found Sharell at him, although he seemed to be weakened somehow. The man WAS good, keeping up with this, and Jeremy was tiring more quickly because of the extensive use of chi he ordained for his body. The combattants locked upon one another, each delivering crushing blows. Still Jeremy was winning. His opponent was losing ground, one eye swelled shut. He delivered another punch, violent yet precise, to the man's face. It impacted on the nose, breaking it on contact. His adversary reeled back from that new pain.

Seven times. Seven times my nose has been broken. And I'm nineteen. You're in your late forties, and this is your first. And a bully like you calls himself a fighter. Hah!

To other opponents Jeremy would have given a reprieve, a slight chance to recover strength and dignity. But this man had no honor, drug-dealing, setting fake drams, harvesting money from the pain and the despair of others. This man deserved no honor. So he gave that man absolutely no time to rest, coming at him as fierce as ever, ignoring the breath that was starting to come short, the muscles that were starting to groan in protest. He summoned his chi again, even thought it was starting to feel rather sluggish, and leapt over the air, dropping down with his foot aimed at his adversary, a foot blueish in hue because of his Chi.

"EAGLE STRIKE!"

He was stopped. Before he stroke, Sharell had put his arm in front of him, probably calling on every little bit of will he had, and had managed to harden his arm to stop the attack. Jeremy was stunned, flung backward, dimly aware the crowd was roaring such they might start breaking the place apart. He managed to land on his feet unsteadily, and for a moment found himself at a loss. The Eagle Strike blocked so easily! That had never happened before. Was the technique that puny? Or was he himself losing his edge. Or both? This was an humbling though, and one that he would be thinking about after the fight.

He heard a moan from his opponent, and looked over. Sharell was holding his arm, which was twisted at a strange angle, his face livid and bloodless. The young man grinned. So that was why the guy hadn't attacked. The Eagle Strike had been blocked, right, but it had also utterly broken his arm. With only one arm, he was no match. Jeremy took a deep breath, steadying himself. He saw Cammy beyond the ring, looking at the fight and mouthing something.

'Thirty seconds.' she mouthed.

He walked up to the man. Slowly, deliberately. Refusing to show his own weakness, his own fatigue. He grabbed the shivering, gasping man by the front of his Gi. Put his hand right in front of the pain-filled face. And let the Chi gather, flow, and become a white-hot ball around his fist.

"Game over, motherfucker." and he pointed his hand towards the man's privates. He smirked as the man's eyes widened. "Remember, I said you'd never recover."

There was a moment of shock, even the crowd felt it. A moment of absolute silence.

"FLARE TALON!!!!"

* * * * * * * * * *
A the same time...

Ibuki was flung backward, flipping back to her feet and giving a frank glare toward the clone-like twins that she had against herself. The battle against this freakish team, although not yet truly dangerous, was certainly damn well problematic.

If there'd been only one of them, there wouldn't have been a problem. However, the two of them worked as a whole. A very unified whole. A damn good one. She rapidly saw that one had great defense, the other great offense, and that both had great speed, nearly as much as she. And they used this to alternatively block her attack, followed immediately by a surprisingly skilled and powerful attack. She couldn't really place the style, it seemed a rather unique mix of street skills and bits of different martial arts, which these two had definitely worked up to an artform. And these moves, synchronised so well they might as well come from a sole person, it was starting to freak her out. She faced her opponents, who had regained their identical stances.

"Surrender and we..." said one.

"...will not kill you." finished the other. Their faces remained as neutral as ever, but had an intense look to them now. As for she, it was all she could do to keep from laughing outloud. But she couldn't resist a smirk.

"Not that I'd think you guys wouldn't honor you word, " she stated ironically, "But where I come from, the word 'surrender' is kind of unknown. Besides, I don't think that it'd be very...HEALTHY... for my sexuality to stay with people like you."

Silmultaneous blink, silmultaneous shrug.

"We are sorry..."

"...to hear that." And they attacked.

She dodged the blow, the other twin blocking her return kick, upon which she was hit by a quick punch to the side. It hurt - later it would probably hurt like hell - but the Chi and the adrenaline that pumped through her system kept the pain to a minimum. She rolled backward. This time, however, the twins weren't fast enough for some reason, and she saw an opening on the defensive twin. With lightning-quick reflexes, she had drawn two kunai and throwned them in a single smooth gesture. She had tried before, but the defensive twin had blocked with his arms perfectly. This time, his defense was opened, ever so slightly. The blades stroke before he could close it again. One kunai lodged in his ribs, the other cut a hole in the man's stomach. The defensive one cried out in pain, stumbling back. That left the aggressive twin to deal with.

She waited for his charge, which came reluctantly but with even more fire than before. She willed her Chi to gather, forcing it up her right arm, chanelling the flow as perfectly as she could in the short circumstances. The man attacked with a blow to her chest, which she dodged, taking the extreme risk of coming into close range by doing so. He grabbed her with a suddenly very emotional snarl, and things might have gone badly then, except that he opened up his arms to do so. Her Chi was ready, throbbing throught her hand, she brought it up.

"RAIDA!"

A ball of Chi went upward, smashing against the man's chest. The twin was thrown up and away from her, ultimately crashing into the wall, head first. He seemed not to have been knocked out, but out of the fight, certainly for a good while. It would be many minutes before the pain subsided sufficiently at the range the Raida had hit. This left only the more defensive twin. She turned back to him as soon as the other had impacted upon the floor.

The man had pulled the kunais form the wounds, leaving rivulets of blood to flow. His eyes were wide, veins appearing at his temple and brow. He was pissed at her. Perfect. A pissed defensive man was useless in a fight. She watched him advance towards her menacingly, utterly unimpressed.

"You bitch! I'll break your pretty head like an egg!" he snarled.

She raised an amused brow. "Finally an actually COMPLETE sentence from one of you jerks."

He growled, charging at her. As she thought, his defense was just about shot. And he wasn't the offensive one of the pair. She summoned her Chi again, intent on finishing this fight once and for all. He came at her with a slashing hand, which she blocked, counter-attacking with a severe blow to his wounded ribcage. He gagged, and she decided to end it here and now. She took into the air, delivering a kick using alll the energy she had in her body. It connected with a satisfying crunch, and the second twin crumpled to the floor. She surveyed what she had done and smiled.

"Strong arm, glass jaw. It figures, somehow." she said distantly, picking up the SCD listening device. "Hello?"

"About time! I was finished minutes ago! What kept you?" came Mark's voice.

"Problem with clones, is all." she said mildly. "So, you have the information?"

"All in. Kale is toast here."

"Very well." she said. "Then I'll get out of here." and she moved out of the room.

* * * * * * * * * *
Twenty minutes later...

A man and a woman were waiting anxiously next to a car, surveying the environs of the particular part of Montreal slums they stood amidst. They weren't speaking much to each other. Ever since Sharell had been taken by policemen - thirty seconds after Cammy's warning of the raid - they had barely spoken, lost in their own thoughts. Finally Jeremy spoke up.

"I hope she's alright." he mused in concern.

"She was able to get in easily. She should be able to get out just as easily." was the calm reply.

He eyed her. "Hope you're right. I really would hate to lose her, she's quite exceptional. She'll make a great Shinobi, I'm sure."

"I'm very flattered to hear that, sir." came a voice.

Both agents nearly jumped out of their skins, whirling and taking on defensive stances on instinct, spotting a figure sitting on the car. Recognising who it was immediately, they relaxed and backed down.

"Ibuki! Darn you! How long have you been there?" growled Jeremy, unable to keep all the mirth off his voice, which rendered the would-be menacing tone useless. The young ninja, looking tired but hale, lifted her brows as if considering.

"A minute. Perhaps two. Does it matter?" she answered seriously, yet with a smile. Jeremy grinned back.

"I guess it doesn't. Well, I'm glad you're okay! And now that you're here, there's no sense in staying here, is there? After all." and there he shot a look at Cammy, "There are things that must urgently be settled, and we gotta be ready for Kale's retributive strike against us when he learns SCD engineered it." he smiled again, looking like a teenager for once, his eyes twinkling. "But first, I gotta show you a place I ate in a few years back when I visited the town with my uncle."

"Oh. What is it?"

"A restaurant. I'm hungry, and they serve the best fettucini I've ever eaten! Hop in!"

Ibuki gave a shrug. "I never tried italian food. Why not?" and she jumped down and stepped into the car. Both SCD agents started to follow, but then the blond woman looked at the building underneath of which the not-so-secret-anymore compound was located. She looked back at her partner.

"Do you think Kale will be angry?"

He grinned. "As a damn, annoying hornet, he will. You can bet on that."

Silence for a moment. "Good."

"Exactly what I thought." and then they stepped into the car. They felt good today. They had helped deal a grievious blow against a very dangerous man, had by that saved who knew how many lives, and, to boot, had had plenty of exercice. Certainly, there would be harsh reprisals. Kale wasn't the kind of man who likes to be beaten in any kind of games, especially one like that. But they would deal with it later.

For today, they all knew, had been a very fine day indeed.

____________________________________________________________
Sorry if the end seems rushed guys. I was terribly sick when I finsished it and it may be sub-standard. I did not re-write it because this chapter is only mildly important to the plot. Soon, a new part begins, heralded in part in the next chapter. Prepare to see some old faces in Chapter 14 of Will and Fate!

As always, I love ideas and feedback! ^_^

Jeremy