A Soldier in Tokyo
Chapter 7: Heading for the competition
Dusk slowly settled across Nerima, throwing shadows across the buildings and people as they walked about in the cool summer air. Streetlamps clicked on automatically, and lights inside people's homes were turned on.
On the streets, people walked about, some with nowhere to go, others heading out early as part of the nightlife. One large group was part of the latter, heading deeper into the city. Nabiki lead the way, with Goten and Trunks beside her, and Ranma, Goku, Akane, Tank, Barsoum, and Ryoga trailing behind.
Ranma turned to Tank. "So what will we actually have to do?"
"Why you asking me?"
"We have a deal, remember?" Ranma reminded Tank of the deal they had made. In order for Tank to get training from Ranma, he had to promise that he'd give any information he knew, which, since he came from a different world (although only Ranma and Nabiki knew that) like Goku, he knew a lot.
Unfortunately… "Well, I can honestly tell you I haven't a clue. Never heard of anything like this back home."
Ranma grunted, still curious, but resigned to the fact that he'd have to learn about it the same time everyone else did.
Goku looked about, curious about everything they passed, when Tank called out, "Hang on a sec guys…" And he disappeared into a shop for a few moments, to return with several short plastic tubes, filled with a dull liquid. He started to pass a couple out to each person, even Nabiki, saying, "You guys might want these."
"What for?" Ryoga said incredulously. Tank simply smiled back cheerfully.
"You'll see. Just hang on to them till we get in." He stashed the last few into his pocket, and they continued on, making idle small talk until they came up to a tall, concrete building, with a long line outside, waiting for the place to open. A large neon sign announced to all that it was the Club Electric, although the 'L' on the Club flickered, changing the name to 'Cub' Electric. Above the double doors was a white banner, announcing the location of the Martial Arts Techno Rave Competition, hosted by…
"Ken Masters?" Tank muttered, surprised.
"You know him?" Nabiki asked.
"I just know he's a wealthy guy, and a top-notch martial artist in the Shotokan Karate form." Ranma and Ryoga both perked up at the mention of the very hard-hitting Karate art, while Nabiki's eyes glittered almost deviously. "More likely with ideas on getting into the wealthy man's pockets." Tank thought, shaking his head.
The doors opened, and the line slowly started to move forward, then split into two lines, one for fighter registration, and the other for folks just coming to the club for a good time.
As the Nerima/Z Fighter group closed in on the desk, they could hear the slightly bored registration mans voice. "Pay 1000 yen, sign your name, your style of fighting, wait till you get stamped and then you may go into the club."
"Huh, there are a few fighters here." Goku noticed as he scanned the line. Ranma shrugged, not really interested as they moved forward.
"Probably has more to do with Masters name than the money, although they might be here for the money. Hard to say really." Tank thought aloud.
"Doesn't matter, it'll make this more interesting." Barsoum said, slightly absently as he gazed at those of the fairer sex, somewhat longingly. Tank smacked his buddy, who quickly shot back, "Hey! It's a club! Why do you think they come here dressed like that for?"
Tank flushed slightly, having forgotten about things like that. Barsoum shook his head as he said, "You don't get out enough man."
"Tell me about it." He muttered as Trunks and Goten came up to the desk.
Again, the man at the desk said in a bored tone, "Pay 1000 yen, sign your name, your style of fighting, wait untilllllllhey wait a minute!" The man jumped up on his feet, finally noticing that it was two kids standing before him. "You can't go in and fight!"
The two kids looked at each other, then the man, saying together, "Why not?"
"Well…wha…" He blubbered about, floundering for a moment before finally saying, "You're children!"
"Uh huh!" Goten said cheerfully, as Trunks tossed out, "So?"
"Well…ah…er…" He shifted through his little rulebook, and didn't find anything that kept kids out, and sighed, defeated. "Ok, fine. Pay your money, sign, yada yada." Nabiki paid for them, and finished the form, which the man read over carefully.
"Hmm, Trunks and Goten. Fusion style fighting?" He shook his head, muttering, "Don't you know what martial arts style you do?"
"Well, yea." Trunks answered. "That's it. But we've never done this before."
"Do tell." He said dryly. He gestured to his aide, and they both got a stamp on their hands as he called, "Next!"
Ranma paid, filled out the form. The man just sighed at the age of the pig-tailed fighter, feeling that the world was out to make his life harder than it already was as Ranma got his stamp.
"Next!"
"Akane Tendo…age 16." He sighed, and waved her on.
"Next!"
"Ryoga Hibiki. Age 16?" He growled slightly. Ryoga growled back.
"Next!"
Barsoum walked up with a slight swagger, asking, "You guys have any Tupac in this club tonight?"
The doorman shook his head madly. "No no no no. No Tupac."
"Well why the hell not!" Barsoum said indignantly, hands on his hips.
"Because that is not techno music!" He shot back.
Barsoum cursed under his breath, before finally saying, "Fine." He filled out the form.
The man smacked himself on the forehead as he read the style of fighting, which Barsoum happened to write down in Arabic, before calling, "Next!"
"Tank?" The man thought for a moment. "Just what kind of name is that? You sure don't look like a tank."
Tank leaned forward slightly, and in a low voice said, "That's because I drive a tank. Care for me to drive it through the door here?"
"Ahh…no. Not really." The man gulped, realizing that he needed to learn to keep his big mouth shut once in awhile.
Tank straightened, smiling cheerfully. "Good. Here's my fee." He handed the money over. He got a stamp in return, and walked in.
"Next!"
"Goku." The man read the form, happy to finally have an older man at his desk. He couldn't possibly be a problem compared to the others. "Uh, you forgot to put down your style of fighting."
"Huh? Where's that?"
"Right here sir." The man pointed.
"Oh. Well…I really don't have any particular style of fighting anymore." Goku chuckled slightly, scratching the back of his head.
The man pounded his head into the table.
* * * * *
Not long after, everyone was gathered around the fighting ring, having been given a fighting slot automatically as they entered the competition, although there was a little switching around as fighters entered. Trunks and Goten vs. a fighter named Joe Higashi, Ranma vs. a young man named Kenneth, Ryoga vs. a girl named Sakura, Barsoum vs. Tank, Goku vs. a wrestler named Zangief, Ken Masters vs. a man named the Spitting Cobra, and at least a dozen other fighters.
In the shadows of a balcony, a powerfully built man with pupil less eyes watched from under the brim of his large military style hat. "This has to be one of your ideas Geese."
Beside him, a tall blonde headed man, wearing a business suit and with a vicious scar running across an eye smirked. "No. I had nothing to do with this. This is all Ken Masters doing."
The other man grunted. "I have more important things to do than to follow a strange street fight, even if Ken Masters is here. I have no use for him."
"Please Bison, stay and keep me company then. I'm told that this should be an interesting competition, even if the whole music thing is a waste of time."
The head of Shadowlaw looked at the King of Southtown. "And what makes you so sure that there is anything here of interest to me?"
"Well, I can tell you that the girl named Sakura is close to Ryu. She'll be fighting here tonight, thinking she'll get closer to him this way." Geese turned to face Bison. "Also, there just might be some good fighters here for your little purposes."
Bison settled his powerful body into his chair, his only cue of his acceptance of Geese's point. His voice rumbled slightly, a hint of threat in it, "This had better be worth my time."
Geese just smiled, not really fearing the powerful crime lords' threat.
*****
From deeper in the shadows on the ground floor, a being of great evil stood with his powerful arms crossed over his chest. He wore a dark colored gi, tattered at the ends and lacking sleeves. Instead of a regular rank belt, he wore a simple rope to hold his top closed, and a string of large beads around his neck. His eyes glowed red and his red hair constantly seemed to move in the air. He had no real interest in the competition either, and under normal circumstances he wouldn't have even been in such a place. However, he'd felt an incredible power surge not long ago, followed by several more over the past several days.
"Finally, there may be one who can stand against me." Akuma's lips opened to reveal a row of jagged teeth in anticipation of a real battle. Anyone seeing his smile would have probably died of a heart attack, as his smile lacked all compassion and pleasantness. It was the smile of a hunter, who had smelled worthy prey.
His fights with Ryu and other street fighters had been lacking in challenge, although Ryu was the obvious heir to the Dark Hadou. In spite of that though, Ryu hadn't been able to defeat him, the Master of Fists.
Akuma rumbled slightly, feeling the strong presence of the warriors he'd been seeking. He looked over at the assembled fighters, looking for the ones he'd sensed, and locking in on Goku. "He is the one." He said aloud, feeling his blood boil from an excitement he hadn't felt in years. Now wasn't the time for action though. Now was a time to watch, and learn. The time for action would show itself to him soon.
However, he couldn't remove the smile from his lips.
**********
As the group moved into the fighter's waiting area by the ring, Tank couldn't surpress a shudder.
Barsoum glanced at his friend, cocking an eyebrow. "What's eating ya?"
"I don't know man." Tank responded, shuddering again. "I just have a bad feeling all of a sudden."
Barsoum leaned in. "Yea man. I'm feeling it too. Something ain't right here."
"Got any ideas what it is?"
"No." Barsoum cocked his head slightly in a partial shrug. "Beats me."
"Guess we'll just have to run with it. Shit hits the fan though, we book it." Tank proposed, tossing a thumb in the direction of the entrance.
"What? And leave all the lovely ladies here? Common, we can't do that!" Barsoum grinned, dismissing the odd feeling he'd been getting.
Tank sighed. "Alright. We'll go with Plan B. We ride off with the women and hope to hell they don't shoot us afterwards."
"They wouldn't shoot a stud like me now."
"Oh yes they would. Matter of fact I could be bribed into giving them the bullets." Tank quipped, letting their usual banter ease the forboding feeling he still had.
Barsoum placed a hand over his heart in simulated pain. "That hurts...but I'm Egyptian."
"So?"
"Didn't you know that Arabs are natural weapons dealers? That means I'll get a better deal when I sell them the weapons to do the shooting." Barsoum grinned triumphantly.
"Oooooh...you've got a point there. I've got you beat though."
"How? You're my bitch, admit it."
"No way. I'm of Irish and German descent." Tank smiled broadly.
"How's that beat me?"
"Easy. I'll give'em good beer and start a brawl faster than you can sell the guns."
"Damn...oh sorry, I was looking at that hot chick over there." Barsoum looked off to the right.
"Wow. Good eyes." Tank nodded apprecitively, dropping the banter like an anvil.
A young Japanese woman swayed her hips to the music. She wore a form fitting blue-white halter top leaving her trim stomach exposed, black pants with string seams that showed off great amounts of smooth leg underneath, a giant diamond studded belt and black short heels. Her short black hair swayed in rythm with her motions, the muscles in her stomach moving slightly as she danced. She smiled coyly at the group, and at one very happy Egyptian in particular.
"Dude..." Barsoum said with a grin. "This could be a very interesting evening."
It was going to be an interesting evening indeed...
**********
To be continued…