SNK vs Capcom: No More Dreams
Standing on top of the stairwell gripping the black and white lined marble banister, Iori Yagami overlooked the luxurious penthouse that he is held captive. His esteemed host had ordered his servants not to allow the crimson haired warrior to leave at any cost, not that it mattered since Iori felt no reason to. In fact, oddly enough, he didn't even care to consider attempting to depart.
Iori always thought himself independent of everyone else's requirements of him, why did he feel so comfortable in even not trying to rebel against his captor?
Iori studied the servants as they toiled about the large room. There was something unnaturally graceful about the way they moved, and he also noted that his vision was much more... moreso than before. He could study them flowing more fluidly than a flowing stream, yet the way they changed movements and actions was in a manner so.... softly unnoticeable but rigid.
Iori let out a sigh, as he finally gave into his boredom. He had never cared for television before, it was just a useless and hollow entertainment device for the brainless masses, but he would greatfully take it as a distraction from the tediousness he's felt since this morning.
Iori returned to the base of the stairs and fumbled upon the redwood coffee table for the remote. After studying it a bit and figuring how it worked, Iori switched on the TV, and impatiently flipped through channels until one familiar sight caught his eye; it was the logo for the King of Fighter's Tournament. He had thought, since the last sponser of the tournament had been eliminated, that there would not be any more. Iori glanced down at the remote and moved his finger to the volume.
"The world's most talented, most powerful, mightiest warriors and combatants. One tournament to end all tournaments. Only one title that matters, the title of King of FIGHTERS! All original combatants of previous King of Fighter and Street Fighter tournaments may enter free of charge. For information on registration, events, locations, and other matters concerning contact....."
Iori barely paid attention to the hokey ad. He didn't care to have to enter another fighting tournament; he did not care to fight in the first place, but his host Demitri had requested that they enter a tournament together for the honor to fight alongside such a great warrior. And for some peculiar reason, Iori felt strongly obliged.....
______________________________
Vega raised one eyebrow in response to the commercial, "What imbecil directed this rubbish?"
The Spaniard glanced to his side awaiting an answer from the Silver haired man standing next to him, "I didn't think it would be this bad, do not ask me!"
"It matters naught who did it, it served it's purpose," spoke a voice from behind them. Both Vega and Rugal spun around to greet the tall African, "The trap is now set, and warriors from around the globe are taking the bait. We'll let them wear themselves out, then we'll eliminate the last ones who stand. I have no doubt that we would be more than a match for what's left."
"You are rather confident about this, time after time, these morality-addled buffoons have succeeded in triumphing against most overwhelming odds. They will not go down easily," argued Rugal.
"Ah, Rugal, my good man, such thoughts are what assurady cost you your victory in the past. Could it be that you don't consider yourself worthy of your desires? Do you consider yourself possibly... inferior as a ruler of this planet?" mockingly questioned the Nigerian.
"Hmph, I am well superior to the sheep of this world. Don't even pretend to harbor such lame concerns."
The black gentleman patted Rugal on the shoulder almost cheerfully, "Good show! It's nice to know you are over your rather failed past."
Rugal squinted his true remaining eye and tightened his right hand into a fist as it glew with green energy, "Why do you feel it nessesary to provoke both Bison and me? Do you truely think yourself a match for both of us?"
The Nigerian bowed his head apologetically, "I ment no disrespect, my English, though rather studied, is still a bit akward; I ment nothing of the sort, forgive me." Rugal didn't know what to make of this, but chose to calm himself.
No sooner done, did he feel a steel grip around his throat, as the other man lifted him off the ground with one hand by his neck, "And now I require an apology from you for even entertaining thoughts of being my equal. Both you and the noble Major are no doubt formidable to the other rabble, but DO NOT presume yourself to be on my level."
Rugal wasn't about to take this treatment and swung one leg up to kick as he managed to voice out through a strained throat "GENOCIDE CUT-TE......" The Nigerian released his hold on Rugal's throat and brought his hand down to block. Stopping Rugal cold in mid kick, he then brought his other hand to a palm strike to the platnium-blond haired man's midrange, effectivly taking Rugal down.
The black gentleman stood over his fallen opponent and smirked, "I think you have learned a valuable lesson today. Please make sure I never have to reteach it." Rugal loosely held his own throat and rubbed his stomach gasping for air as Vega chuckled softly.
"You find this entertaining?" enquired the African.
"Uh, no, sir," Vega squeaked.
"Heh, I like you, but don't lie to me. I don't see any reason for you not to find this humorous."
All three men's heads turned at the tell tale sound of Bison's heavy footsteps. "I am gravely sorry to interrupt such an interesting debacle, but we have more pressing matters to engage in. The Nigerian cocked his head slightly, "Hmm, I guess business must return to seriousness. Very well, come gentlemen, let us behave like the professional and courteous assosiates we are."
______________________________
Chizuru Kagura looked rather out of place on the bustling and hip Hong Kong streets as the only change of cloths she had availible before this trip was another one of her ceremonial outfits. She had been so caught up in her duties as a Shinto Priestess, she had not thought to do laundry.
Carrying a few days of dirty clothing in a suitcase she hastefully packed, Chizuru tried, almost in vain, to keep in pace with Rose until they happened upon a quiant shop. As Rose opened the door to let Chizuru in, they were both greated by a perky violet haired young lady.
"Child settle down," Rose scolded, "we are a bit weary from our trip and I am not in cheerful mindings."
The bubbly Athena bowed politely, "I'm sorry, it's just that I hadn't seen Chizuru in such a while, I'm just glad to meet another familiar face."
Chizuru finally had a chance to relax and leaned up against a short wall near the door, and unsuspectingly against an old vase as she sent it tumbling to the steps behind the wall. The priestess snapped her head towards the falling pottery immidiatly when she felt it give under her, but was unable to do anything about it.
Looking over the wall Chizuru saw a flight of stairs with an old man in a gray Kung-Fu outfit and a red sash, the highest belt in Kung-fu, balancing the vase on the inside of his raised foot, "This is a rare vase from the Ming empire. If you feel the need to destroy something of value, do so with with the Wu empire pottery," Gen said.
"I-I'm sorry, I'm just tired. I've been on a nonstop escapade since contacted by your friend here and...."
"No need for the apology, no damage was done," interrupted the old man stroking his silver-white beard, "Let us immediatly attend to the task at hand. I believe Rose here has already informed you of the situation and the danger it poses?" Chizuru sharply nodded. "Good, then I believe you are suffering from the same ailment that fair Athena is? About the lack of premonitions, and the inability to feel the usual ambient dark forces of this world?"
Chizuru saw Athena's face turn from cheerful to morose out of the corner of her eye, when the subject was brought up, "Yes, it's as if evil has vanished, I had assumed that..."
"Heh, assumed that evil had indeed vanished from this realm? I would say not!" interrupted the Ancient martial arts master, "I have been unable to feel the power of my opponent, the great demon, Akuma. I know he is out there, we had promised each other after our last fateful bout that we will be the ones to finish each other off, and Akuma is not one to break a promise," he said almost laughingly.
"No more dreams," murmered Athena, looking away from the group.
"What was that child?" Rose asked Athena.
"For the longest time, I haven't had any dreams, neither good nor bad. It's almost as if I'm purposely being denied."
"No dreams? My poor child, you must be under such tremendous stress right now! No human can function properly without dreams," said a concerned Gen as he put the vase he was holding back ontop the short wall. Athena looked up and tried to feign her usual vibrant smile, but the others could obviously tell it was fraudulant, since it lacked it's immense brightness.
"Well it is time we sat down and discussed this matter thoroughly," said the Purple haired Italian lady, "If we are to assess the situation properly, we need t-..."
Athena, Rose, and Gen all jerked their heads to the direction of the loud crash and their sights met with a sheepish look on Chizuru's face, whose elbow replaced the vase on the wall. "Whoops..." Gen let out a heavy sigh.
Standing on top of the stairwell gripping the black and white lined marble banister, Iori Yagami overlooked the luxurious penthouse that he is held captive. His esteemed host had ordered his servants not to allow the crimson haired warrior to leave at any cost, not that it mattered since Iori felt no reason to. In fact, oddly enough, he didn't even care to consider attempting to depart.
Iori always thought himself independent of everyone else's requirements of him, why did he feel so comfortable in even not trying to rebel against his captor?
Iori studied the servants as they toiled about the large room. There was something unnaturally graceful about the way they moved, and he also noted that his vision was much more... moreso than before. He could study them flowing more fluidly than a flowing stream, yet the way they changed movements and actions was in a manner so.... softly unnoticeable but rigid.
Iori let out a sigh, as he finally gave into his boredom. He had never cared for television before, it was just a useless and hollow entertainment device for the brainless masses, but he would greatfully take it as a distraction from the tediousness he's felt since this morning.
Iori returned to the base of the stairs and fumbled upon the redwood coffee table for the remote. After studying it a bit and figuring how it worked, Iori switched on the TV, and impatiently flipped through channels until one familiar sight caught his eye; it was the logo for the King of Fighter's Tournament. He had thought, since the last sponser of the tournament had been eliminated, that there would not be any more. Iori glanced down at the remote and moved his finger to the volume.
"The world's most talented, most powerful, mightiest warriors and combatants. One tournament to end all tournaments. Only one title that matters, the title of King of FIGHTERS! All original combatants of previous King of Fighter and Street Fighter tournaments may enter free of charge. For information on registration, events, locations, and other matters concerning contact....."
Iori barely paid attention to the hokey ad. He didn't care to have to enter another fighting tournament; he did not care to fight in the first place, but his host Demitri had requested that they enter a tournament together for the honor to fight alongside such a great warrior. And for some peculiar reason, Iori felt strongly obliged.....
______________________________
Vega raised one eyebrow in response to the commercial, "What imbecil directed this rubbish?"
The Spaniard glanced to his side awaiting an answer from the Silver haired man standing next to him, "I didn't think it would be this bad, do not ask me!"
"It matters naught who did it, it served it's purpose," spoke a voice from behind them. Both Vega and Rugal spun around to greet the tall African, "The trap is now set, and warriors from around the globe are taking the bait. We'll let them wear themselves out, then we'll eliminate the last ones who stand. I have no doubt that we would be more than a match for what's left."
"You are rather confident about this, time after time, these morality-addled buffoons have succeeded in triumphing against most overwhelming odds. They will not go down easily," argued Rugal.
"Ah, Rugal, my good man, such thoughts are what assurady cost you your victory in the past. Could it be that you don't consider yourself worthy of your desires? Do you consider yourself possibly... inferior as a ruler of this planet?" mockingly questioned the Nigerian.
"Hmph, I am well superior to the sheep of this world. Don't even pretend to harbor such lame concerns."
The black gentleman patted Rugal on the shoulder almost cheerfully, "Good show! It's nice to know you are over your rather failed past."
Rugal squinted his true remaining eye and tightened his right hand into a fist as it glew with green energy, "Why do you feel it nessesary to provoke both Bison and me? Do you truely think yourself a match for both of us?"
The Nigerian bowed his head apologetically, "I ment no disrespect, my English, though rather studied, is still a bit akward; I ment nothing of the sort, forgive me." Rugal didn't know what to make of this, but chose to calm himself.
No sooner done, did he feel a steel grip around his throat, as the other man lifted him off the ground with one hand by his neck, "And now I require an apology from you for even entertaining thoughts of being my equal. Both you and the noble Major are no doubt formidable to the other rabble, but DO NOT presume yourself to be on my level."
Rugal wasn't about to take this treatment and swung one leg up to kick as he managed to voice out through a strained throat "GENOCIDE CUT-TE......" The Nigerian released his hold on Rugal's throat and brought his hand down to block. Stopping Rugal cold in mid kick, he then brought his other hand to a palm strike to the platnium-blond haired man's midrange, effectivly taking Rugal down.
The black gentleman stood over his fallen opponent and smirked, "I think you have learned a valuable lesson today. Please make sure I never have to reteach it." Rugal loosely held his own throat and rubbed his stomach gasping for air as Vega chuckled softly.
"You find this entertaining?" enquired the African.
"Uh, no, sir," Vega squeaked.
"Heh, I like you, but don't lie to me. I don't see any reason for you not to find this humorous."
All three men's heads turned at the tell tale sound of Bison's heavy footsteps. "I am gravely sorry to interrupt such an interesting debacle, but we have more pressing matters to engage in. The Nigerian cocked his head slightly, "Hmm, I guess business must return to seriousness. Very well, come gentlemen, let us behave like the professional and courteous assosiates we are."
______________________________
Chizuru Kagura looked rather out of place on the bustling and hip Hong Kong streets as the only change of cloths she had availible before this trip was another one of her ceremonial outfits. She had been so caught up in her duties as a Shinto Priestess, she had not thought to do laundry.
Carrying a few days of dirty clothing in a suitcase she hastefully packed, Chizuru tried, almost in vain, to keep in pace with Rose until they happened upon a quiant shop. As Rose opened the door to let Chizuru in, they were both greated by a perky violet haired young lady.
"Child settle down," Rose scolded, "we are a bit weary from our trip and I am not in cheerful mindings."
The bubbly Athena bowed politely, "I'm sorry, it's just that I hadn't seen Chizuru in such a while, I'm just glad to meet another familiar face."
Chizuru finally had a chance to relax and leaned up against a short wall near the door, and unsuspectingly against an old vase as she sent it tumbling to the steps behind the wall. The priestess snapped her head towards the falling pottery immidiatly when she felt it give under her, but was unable to do anything about it.
Looking over the wall Chizuru saw a flight of stairs with an old man in a gray Kung-Fu outfit and a red sash, the highest belt in Kung-fu, balancing the vase on the inside of his raised foot, "This is a rare vase from the Ming empire. If you feel the need to destroy something of value, do so with with the Wu empire pottery," Gen said.
"I-I'm sorry, I'm just tired. I've been on a nonstop escapade since contacted by your friend here and...."
"No need for the apology, no damage was done," interrupted the old man stroking his silver-white beard, "Let us immediatly attend to the task at hand. I believe Rose here has already informed you of the situation and the danger it poses?" Chizuru sharply nodded. "Good, then I believe you are suffering from the same ailment that fair Athena is? About the lack of premonitions, and the inability to feel the usual ambient dark forces of this world?"
Chizuru saw Athena's face turn from cheerful to morose out of the corner of her eye, when the subject was brought up, "Yes, it's as if evil has vanished, I had assumed that..."
"Heh, assumed that evil had indeed vanished from this realm? I would say not!" interrupted the Ancient martial arts master, "I have been unable to feel the power of my opponent, the great demon, Akuma. I know he is out there, we had promised each other after our last fateful bout that we will be the ones to finish each other off, and Akuma is not one to break a promise," he said almost laughingly.
"No more dreams," murmered Athena, looking away from the group.
"What was that child?" Rose asked Athena.
"For the longest time, I haven't had any dreams, neither good nor bad. It's almost as if I'm purposely being denied."
"No dreams? My poor child, you must be under such tremendous stress right now! No human can function properly without dreams," said a concerned Gen as he put the vase he was holding back ontop the short wall. Athena looked up and tried to feign her usual vibrant smile, but the others could obviously tell it was fraudulant, since it lacked it's immense brightness.
"Well it is time we sat down and discussed this matter thoroughly," said the Purple haired Italian lady, "If we are to assess the situation properly, we need t-..."
Athena, Rose, and Gen all jerked their heads to the direction of the loud crash and their sights met with a sheepish look on Chizuru's face, whose elbow replaced the vase on the wall. "Whoops..." Gen let out a heavy sigh.