A/N: Once again delving into some Ikari past…and once again, I hope everyone who reads this is familiar with Victory Road. XD (Ralf and Clark, still being from KOF-well, it counts.)

Rubbing his eyes, Ralf picked himself up from the grayish, rocky ground. Shaking the weird feeling off of him, he looked over at his friend, also picking himself up. The plane they were on was nowhere to be found-it clearly wasn't a crash, as there was no wreckage. It was just…gone.

"Buddy! You alright?" he said, fixing the red bandana on his head. Despite Ralf outranking Clark, when they were together, they usually referred to each other casually. Ralf was a good mission leader, but he was also fairly laid back, not particularly strict about titles and the like.

"Yeah." Clark adjusted the bandolier on his shoulder, resting his arms over his knees a second. Their hair was fairly disheveled, and they had a few cuts and scrapes around, but nothing too terrible.

"The hell's the plane?" Ralf looked around, completely confused.

"More importantly…where the hell are we?"

Taking a moment to get their bearings, they seemed to be in a little bit of a wasteland…though somewhere in the distance, they could see a sort of gathering of buildings, and further on down, there seemed to be a bit of a city or some such thing there, as well. Closer to them, they saw a singular building, perhaps a kilometer or so away…maybe two, but it was hard to judge from the gray, rocky wasteland.

"Radio back. See if we can get coordinates."

Fumbling with his radio, Clark tried to tune in…and got nothing but static.

"Are you there?" he asked. Listening back…nothing.

"Man, we must be far away." The shaggy-haired man shook his head, trying his own. "Nothing." Deciding to check his compass, he blinked as he saw the hands going haywire. "Uhh…is yours workin'?"

Clark looked at it, before checking his own; it was the same problem. Moreover, their watches seemed to be flashing all 0's, as if something had gone weird with the electronics. Clicking them quickly, he looked at the sky.

"Is it just me, or does the sky look…weird to you?"

"Yeah! Like…the color's off." He touched the dirt, which seemed like normal dirt, at least. "It looks like…mountains near a desert...without the mountains. And it's not all that hot. Also…look down there." He pulled out his binoculars, adjusting them enough to see down near the city-looking thing in the distance. "That's…greenery. What sort of area has that much foliage this close to a wasteland?"

"Kinda cloudy out," Clark said, looking around before breathing in. "Stuff…feels off. Like…"

"We're dreamin' or something?" he pinched himself, shaking his head. "What do you got?"

"Canteen, some rations, my knife, my sidearm."

"Same." Standing, he scanned the horizon, and decided the small outpost looking thing would be their best bet. "Alright, let's move. We gotta find out where we are. I've been to a lot of places, but I've never seen this country before."

"Maybe we're in the middle of Australia or somethin'?"

"I thought that…but…it ain't hot enough."

"Could be winter."

"Nah. Not the right time of year." He jiggled his watch. "Not like my watch is tellin' me anything."

Moving ahead somewhat cautiously-even Ralf wasn't rushing headlong in, given they had little in the way of protection here besides an odd large rock, and were confused to even where they were at-they didn't see any vehicles or anything around, but they grew closer to the outpost, which, at a glance, looked to be some sort of gas station or roadside tavern…if there had been a road. There was a wind that blew, and while it felt like…wind, the sky continued to look strange. The clouds, while grayish, sort of looked different than the clouds they were used to.

Looking at each other, they shrugged and moved on. Eventually, after some time, they arrived at the place, where they heard some noises coming from it.

Clark rubbed his somewhat disheveled blond hair and folded his arms for a moment.

"Is that a…tavern?"

"Looks like it. Way out of what looks to be the city there," he said, pointing way down on the horizon, where there indeed seemed to be a larger settlement.

"Guess we go in and find out where we are?"

"Yeah. Hey, check it out. A couple of dudes are walking in."

"...Huh. Why are they wearing cloaks?"

The pair looked at each other again, before checking their equipment again. Deciding to press on to see where exactly they ended up and why their electronics were going haywire, the sign out front did seem to have some sort of neon sign.

"Hey, check it out. Electricity. They get power out here, at least."

"What's the sign say?"

"...Dunno. Can't read it."

"I thought I was the only one and that I was hallucinating or something."

"Also is it just me…or is it weird this place is made mostly of stone? I've been to a few far-off taverns and stations, and they aren't…made of stone like this." Ralf tapped the wall.

Reaching the door, they pushed their way in…

…Only to be greeted by the strangest looking bunch of… something or other they had ever seen staring at them.

The chatter-which was definitely not any language they recognized-had stopped suddenly, with the cloaked bartender staring holes through them with his red, glowing eyes.

A strange looking, stocky…alien thing with a single red eye turned and blinked, looking over at the multi-armed fellow next to him. They said some words in a language that once again, Ralf and Clark did not understand.

Some more of these…beings started to stand, only arranging themselves off to the side, folding various…appendages.

"Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"This ain't a dream, is it?"

"Nope."

"Where the hell are we?"

"Ask…them I guess?"

Deciding to give it a go, Ralf stood forward, with some of the strange, red and green colored beings taking defensive stances. Raising his hand, he decided to try English first. Ralf and Clark could get around in several languages, but it was clear that whatever they were speaking…it was nothing from any language family they were familiar with.

"Hi," he started. "Would you mind letting us know where we are? We're…kinda unfamiliar with this place."

Mumbling and murmurs came through the crowd, some of them almost chattering. Three of the larger beings stepped up, muttering something in their strange language, until the hooded, red-eyed bartender-if that's what he was-said something to them before stepping somewhat to the front. Glasses clanked as the beings picked up the glasses with strange appendages that resembled hands.

"You speak the Old Language," he said in a strange, rumbling voice.

Taking a moment to parse the sentence, Ralf blinked.

"The…old language?"

"You wish to stay?" the being said. "Then, you fight."

"Uhh, we…just wanna know where we are."

One of the burlier alien like things-this one had four arms-stepped forward.

"You fight. We talk."

Clark eyed Ralf for a moment, speaking low, careful not to move his mouth.

"We're not getting out of this without a fight, are we?

"Doesn't look like it." At that, Ralf cracked his knuckles, crashing his steel plated fists together.

Clark cracked his knuckles, loosening his arms up. He took his tell-tale stance.

Two of the beings stepped forward, and faced the pair; the four-armed one and the stocky one with one eye.

"Beat us, old one, and you may speak."

"Who the hell are you callin' old?" growled Ralf, who was still only just shy of thirty.

The four-armed fellow charged at Ralf, swinging with his left side, as the big man slid to the side, meeting it with a huge fist to the jaw, sending him careening backward and into a wall.

Audible muttering was heard around, and even the bartender stepped back from this; clearly this wasn't something that happened often.

As Ralf rushed forward to continue his assault, dropkicking the being where he stood, Ralf had gotten the one-eyed opponent into a sort of clutch hold and started to turn, trying to figure out what affected it.

If someone had seen this from afar, you'd have think these two ended up barging into strange bars from another land-or time-and fought weird aliens every Tuesday with the way they were staying cool about this. It was one of the reasons these pair were turning out to be Heidern's best already-their ability to stay cool in some of the more extreme-or even ridiculous-situations.

Somehow, they had not completely destroyed the place, though they noticed that it was set up rather roomy; given they seemed to fight often and at the drop of a hat, it may well have been for a reason. Some of the beings-smaller fellows, in a similar red and green color-simply stood off to the side as they fought.

Ralf dodged one more hit and came back with a massive fist, sending the four-eyed, four-armed being into the wall, where it slumped down. Meanwhile, Clark had gotten the other into a grapple, hoisting him up and dropping him, rolling once and rendering him unconscious with an elbow.

They almost weren't ready for a couple others to jump in, but looking at each other, they shrugged and went after them, as well.

The murmurs grew louder into cheers-or growls-as the fight went on; they seemed to be surprised that the pair were able to beat down the first two, and they knew that the others that had jumped in had lost bets on the fight. The bartender seemed to pick up a sort of communicator to contact someone at this point, Ralf and Clark dodging blows and sending fists, knees, elbows and feet home into the whatever-they-were.

"We drinking after this?" Ralf said, tackling one to the floor.

"I think so!" Clark greeted one with a Frankensteiner. They didn't think much about whatever alcohol this place was serving…if it even was alcohol.

As they beat down the last strange being, the door swung open and a booming, strange voice filled the room; it first spoke the language they did not understand. As it did so, the remaining beings sort of scattered back toward the bar, laying off of them. The others held their heads or-whatever they had, rolling off to the side of they were still conscious. They acted somewhat like this other being was someone that they respected.

A tall, wide being with pale skin, no hair, small horns-one of them on its chin, almost like a beard-and a strange visage stepped in; possibly eight or nine feet tall or so. It was dressed in green armor, looking around at everyone there, until its gaze went on Ralf and Clark.

After a few moments-n a voice slightly clearer than the bartender's-it spoke English toward them in a strange, rumbling accent.

"I am Zada. I have been expecting you."

A/N: So, for those who don't know the story of Ikari 2, Ralf and Clark were sucked through a portal to either, depending on what lore you find (it's a bit…loose), A. Earth in the far future where aliens took it over and renamed it Alexia Lomta, or B. Another planet in the far future, with aliens, and both of it was pretty dystopian, though in a more Mad Max kinda way than a cyberpunk way. (This story runs with the Far Future idea, given I see that one come up more in the material. I regret to inform people that the lore of the old Ikari games is extremely sparse given they were Run 'n Guns from the 80s.) If you had never seen the beings from the game, red and green seem to be colors they share, and they seem to take on weird alien forms-some cyclops, some four-armed, some even stranger looking.

In Ikari 2, there are bars around, and there, you can fight in arenas for money. So…I guessed that might be a thing with these guys, and sorta plays into the dystopian part a bit. Wanna do anything? Fight for it.

It seemed like a good idea at the time I wrote this to run with that Deep Ikari Lore, lol.