Disclaimer: I own none of the properties involved with the making of this singular work of fiction. KOF belongs to SNK, and Shadow Man belongs to Valiant Games.
Author's Note: Greetings to one and all! I write this story now in honor of the month of Halloween, in addition to my growing fondness for King of Fighters. Though I understand this is far from the only Halloween story written for this series, I intend to focus more on creating genuine terror and scares as the month of Halloween has always been my favorite month of the holiday season as it is for many others as well. I believe in respecting the subtle and lucrative science there is to good, wholesome, quality fear. As such, this story contains an environment I have always wished to see be implemented in a horror story, but never knew quite how to go about doing so.
My inspiration for this crossover came about between my love for an underrated 90s horror game called "Shadow Man", as well as the seemingly nonexistent fanfiction present for this horrific gem of a game based off a comic book of the same name. As such, I will do as best I can to offer justice toward both series whom I genuinely believe to be great in their own, distinctive, ways.
As I am no expert on each character's exact personality, I ask humbly that you bear with me as this is my first story regarding KOF. Do not hesitate to highlight my blunder in the event I have misaligned some character's personality and or specific traits.
With that said, read on, recoil in terror, and do enjoy the story to come!
Content Warning: The following fanfiction contains scenes detailing gruesome and morbidly violent imagery, bleak and unnerving atmosphere, and some coarse language. Due to the potentially traumatizing nature of these elements, viewer discretion is heavily advised. Thank you. :)
There he stood... lord of Deadside, the nigh-invincible Shadow Man had obtained every last dark soul in existence, bearing the limitless weight and unmatched evil that burned throughout seemingly every cell in his body, even now as his mission lay complete.
Michael Leroi (or Shadow Man, as he'd more than likely prefer to be called when in Deadside), stood atop a lone cliff simply looking out into the bleak, endless, nothingness that constituted the bulk of this damned world the mask of shadows had made him unspoken ruler of. He appeared perhaps even more sullen than he normally was considering he'd just proven himself savior of the living world yet again.
However, he began to wonder to himself internally just what it all meant in the end. Sure, he destroyed Legion and it was unlikely he'd be prompt to return anytime soon, but in all honesty: did any of that even matter? All life was destined to end up here in a state many would sooner choose non-existence over, and in addition to that the Asylum which he'd destroyed in the final battle had simply re-built itself over a short period of time. The reason itself was fairly obvious; nothing in Deadside stayed gone for very long. Evil souls were everywhere between worlds, and there have been evil souls since long before most Shadow Men such as himself were even born. With evil like what he currently had burning through his veins like the most intensely concentrated heat he could imagine, it was a wonder to him such a construct was never dreamed up before hand.
He draped a hand over one of his jean pockets to remind himself of what he had lost; his precious kid brother's favorite teddy bear. It was truly ironic really, he comes into having ridiculously powerful supernatural abilities, the capacity to travel from the world of men, to the supernatural damnation of all things mortal (both innocent and foul alike), and can collect souls of the purest, most concentrated evil he or likely anyone else would ever feel... and yet still he failed to save everyone that was ever important to him. Miserably if that, too!
"What good is Godhood when you can't even save the soul of your own kid brother? Maybe the Joker was right; life really is just one big, sick, joke."
Disgusted by his own self pity, The Shadow Man of prophecy turned his back to the edge he stood over. It wasn't like he could end his own suffering, even if he wanted to. Not only could he not be killed by falling, no matter how great the height, he'd just end up right back here in Deadside anew. No doubt brought back to the beginning of a previously discovered area, which the World of the Dead was all too kind to bring him to for no real discernible reason. Collecting his thoughts, he jumped off the cliff and landed squarely in one of the many rivers of blood strewn throughout the hollows of Deadside. He noticed he wasn't too far off from the Marrow Gates judging by his current standing position.
"Might as well go pay a visit to Lucky Charms, the pain in the ass talking snake."
Did he really have anything better to do at this point? Not especially, and God, The Devil himself, or who the hell ever knows at least one of them could really use the company right about now. He trudged through the blood lake his feet were currently submerged in, making his way back to dry earth as he ran on ahead, simply ignoring the usual moans of suffering and agony from the many restless, dead souls that lingered through Deadside's many grisly and desolate locations. He'd normally do the lot of them a favor, and blow at least 2 or 3 of them to bloody meat chunks with his ever trusty Shadow Gun, but he wasn't feeling especially generous with his current mood at the moment.
"Sorry, but I just can't be bothered right now. Go suck the life from a Duppy or something!"
After making his usual jumps and turns on the way there, he saw Jaunty standing in his usual position as Guardian of the Marrow Gates. The giant, rib-cage structure of bones that stood well over Jaunty as he lazily guarded the area, being truthfully in no better position than Michael was himself. He was cursed to watch over the damned thing all because he was ritually slaughtered by a group of wannabe, Satanists while still alive. Of course he was saved by Mama Nettie, the same voodoo priestess responsible for gifting Shadow Man with his powers, and in turn sticking him with a wretched fate of playing superintendent with the restless dead forever more, but there was no real use in getting sentimental over spilt milk, now was there?
One of Jaunty's blood red, gleaming eyes caught first sight of Michael in the distance. As he'd always done so in times past, he immediately called for the undead voodoo lord to come closer to where he was.
"Oy yer highness! The lowly gate-keeper would like a word with ye! Quit yer dilly dallying and gimme the honor of dat ever beamin' mug er yers up close and personal!"
Rolling his eyes, Michael brushed off his annoying friend's usually charming snark and hurried his way over to where Jaunty was. He had no intentions of paying an extended visit toward his numbskull friend as knowing his luck, he'd likely go right to work on pestering him for "that drink" he owed him after crediting him with his advice that helped him save the world from apocalypse. Additionally, he was probably the only other thing here that shared his loneliness and despair to any real extent. Having said that, he figured it must have been something vital if Jaunty absolutely needed his attention right this minute.
It took him mere moments to catch up to where Jaunty was slithering around in his usual, nonchalant fashion. From there, Jaunty cut straight to the point of what he needed to convey.
"Ey there Mikey! Been out sight-seein' again no doubt... hey listen, ya wouldn't have happened to stumble across a tattooed feller with short, silvery, hair, now would ye?"
Michael simply raised an eye-brow to this. Unless this was some form of undead monstrosity he'd yet to encounter, he found himself shocked to even entertain the idea a normal human could be here, and not somehow be wailing alongside the other weaker denizens right about now. It wasn't like Jaunty to screw around with him however, so he took his question seriously, albeit with a grain of salt.
"Not in so far as I know Jaunty. We get plenty of freaks around here naturally, but nothing to fit that description. Why do you ask?"
"Eee weeeeell... A feller that fits the description was askin' about how he could go about lookin' fer ye. I had no way er knowin' where ye'd be, but he told me to let ya know... he has somethin' he needs to ask ye. His words, not me own!"
The jovial, wise-cracking serpent's Irish brogue was on full display. Normally at this point it would be laced with a humorous tone and a snappy quip to boot, but Jaunty wasn't giving him either of those 2 deliveries. Whoever or whatever this "guy" was, the fact he was in Deadside whatsoever told Michael he obviously couldn't be a mortal, but if he wasn't a human, undead beast, demon, or some other matter of unholy abberation, then just what the hell was he?
"I assume you had to have held down a conversation with this person for at least a short time, right? How did he seem to you? Did he threaten you when questioning where he could find me, or what?"
"Nah, he didn't get too cranky when we spoke. In fact, besides askin' me about who I was to ye, and where he might find ye, he took off shortly afterward, didn't even give me the time to tell the ole Atilla the Hun and French Aristocracy tale! Me favorite all-time classic! Otherwise though, he was cordial he was, if a bit monotone."
Michael began to scratch his chin in thought. While Jaunty's description wasn't exactly concerning, he couldn't afford to be so sure on whatever this mysterious visitor's intentions were. It could very well be Legion posing in a new form to deceive him, and then take his bloody vengeance for having thwarted his century's long plans to conquer the living world, and plunge it into an endless nightmare no different than the one Deadside had always known. For that matter, even if it wasn't Legion himself, whose to say it wasn't just another sadistic, power hungry, psycho looney (as Jaunty often put it) looking to make life an even bigger hell than it already was?
Whatever the case, it was neither written in prophecy or part of the general job description for the men of shadow to back down from any potential threat. Living, dead, or otherwise! If this human, demon, shape-shifter, or completely arbitrary entity wanted a piece of a voodoo warrior God with the combined might of over 120 dark souls, then it would be his funeral. No matter how miserable the job might make him, or how much he may wish to simply put it an end to all the madness that had plagued his life even now, this was still his domain! He alone was lord and master of Deadside, not some random outsider!!
And anyway, it was like he said a while back... he had nothing left to lose anyways.
"Alright Jaunty. You see this guy again, tell him he can meet me at the temple of life to make his request. I'm in no mood for any bullshit with the fact I'm now stuck here forever with you, my talking, pet, irish, snake whom never shuts up!"
"Hee Hee! Ye charmer, you! Lots of love right back at ye, Mikey!"
Michael simply rolled his eyes, before giving a half-hearted wave good-bye as he proceeded on through the Marrow Gates. He was about to rush along the path there to quell the potential menace before it could cause him any shit going forward. He had plenty enough on his plate as is, and had quite literally until the end of time itself to suffer through it.
Right before he could run his way out of view however, his skull headed, serpent adviser called out to him as he had one last piece of snark to deliver.
"Oh, and by the way yer lord-ship! Don't forget ye still owe ole Jaunty that drink yer promised him!"
Michael begrudgingly gave his ally a thumbs up, whilst fighting back a smirk as he did so.
With that brief exchange of their typical witty banter and information, Michael rushed off to the temple of life located within the wastelands of Deadside. As was standard fare for anyone whom knew this world well enough, hideous monsters both snarled and growled at him once he drew too close, but with his powers having reached their utmost maximum, he didn't see it fit to destroy them. Given he had a new and potentially dangerous enemy to greet, it made more sense in his mind to save the bulk of his voodoo powers on the real threat. Of course even with his powers being what they were, the inhabitants of this foul place regarded his mere presence with the same exact courtesy they would anyone else. Which is to say, they attempted to brutually kill him where he stood, only for him to simply ignore them and their efforts, as he often did when he wasn't feeling especially motivated.
He made his way past the Coffin Gates which sealed off portions of Deadside to prevent evil forces from gaining access to them. He darted through the Chamber of Prophecy, and rushed through the Wastelands to finally reach the Temple of Life, the place where he obtained the Baton, a powerful enchanted voodo blade that could teleport the wielder whom stuck said blade into a specific altar, warping them to another just like it.
He wasted no time in searching the area for anything which fit the physical description Jaunty had given him earlier. Short silver hair, tattooes... and that was all he could remember his sardonic friend saying. It definitely wasn't much to go on, but it could be shockingly hard to not stand out in a place as ghoulish and twisted as Deadside. Whoever they were didn't sound like they'd be from here, so it wasn't likely they were among yet another of the endless legions of dead rotting away with no hope of reprieve from the endless cycle.
Now back at the entrance of the temple, Michael began to wonder if Jaunty hadn't just been trying to fuck with him for his own cheap laughs. At the same time, Michael knew Jaunty well enough to know when he was just pushing buttons, and when he was actually being serious. Nothing in Jaunty and him's brief dialogue suggested he was bored and simply wanted to have a laugh at his own expense, but he hadn't found this visitor to Deadside as of yet. Still, there was no one here besides the usual forsaken, but they were all over the damned place to be fair.
"Ugh, fuck this. I'm giving that damned snake a piece of my mind!"
"Excuse me, but art thou thee Shadow Man of this forsaken world?"
Michael froze in place right then and there. It was now all too clear to him Jaunty had not been pulling his proverbial chain. As he turned around to face this new presence, he took immediate notice of the fact this person fit Jaunty's physical description to a tee. Short, silver hair, and an odd, arcane-like tattoo pattern sprawled around much of his arms and upper body. He had no shirt of any kind much like Michael whenever he went to Deadside, but was wearing white pants with a black leather belt. Overall, while he definitely looked human enough, Michael could already sense there was something very off about this one. Whatever presence or energy he was feeling, it almost felt like it was coming from the earth itself. Was this guy a God as well?!?
"That's right... now who are you and what do you want from me?"
The currently nameless figure just stared him at him dead on. Of course, had he been any other mere mortal, that stare would likely have unnerved him, but once more Deadside was his domain. He wasn't about to back down or cower from anyone in his own world, no matter what they could do or what kind of power they were using. The figure stared at him a while longer before finally making his intentions clear.
"Dost thou understand for how long thy have been kept prisoner here? With the dreaded power that thou wields as naturally as the living draw breath, the dead ought quake at the mere sound of thy name. Yet, you suffer far greater than one of thou's might ought to. My request to thee is but a simple task; I seek to show mortals the error of their sinful and foolish ways, and a place most ripe of death and suffering is the most fitting designation for such a deed."
Michael had to take 2 steps back, utterly bewildered as to what this "being" was even proposing to him. From what he could tell, he was trying to usher in some wave of divine justice to sinful humans, and he wanted to use Deadside as a catalyst to this aim. Problem was, that still left one very vital detail still to be determined... who or what was this guy, and how the hell could he travel to Deadside?
Before he could question the mysterious stranger any further, the man began to drift his left hand toward his pants pocket. As he did so, what began to reveal itself from its prior confines caused Michael's jaw to drop and his eyes to widen. The man pulled out his deceased little brother's teddy bear! The very same stuffed animal he always used before in the transporation from Liveside to Deadside, but just how the HELL could he have gotten his damned hands on it?!?
Instantly furious, Michael could feel a low growl slipping from his lips as his grief and anguish reached a boiling point. The only remnant of his dead kid brother's memory he had left, and somehow this freak-show had his filthy hands all over it!! He had no idea if this guy was somehow in cahoots with Legion, but one thing was for damn sure: he'd be getting that bear back from him, even if it meant blowing him to smithereens!
"I'm only gonna say this once; give me that bear back, or die!"
Michael pointed his shadow gun directly at his visitor from who the hell knew where with a trembling shake in his grip. His rage at the fact someone completely at random, and not even of Deadside had the only thing he possessed to remember his dear little brother by, had disgusted him to no end. At this point, he wasn't sure if he should be more angry with this most likely, sadistic son of a bitch for stealing his kid brother's keep sake, or at himself for allowing Luke's teddy bear to fall into the hands of a complete stranger with a weird, almost erotic sort of fashion sense. Whatever the case might be, his shadow gun was swiftly and quietly being charged up as Michael channeled his shadow powers through it, preparing to rip his visitor to shreds with large wraiths if he had to.
The stranger did not even flinch in the presence of the threatening stance Shadow Man had taken. Instead, he appeared to be analyzing Michael's behavior carefully, as if though he were looking for a way of leveraging the situation that benefited his own intentions specifically. He began his next reply as cryptically as he announced his intentions before hand.
"Thou might haveth power in thy domain, but methinks thou art in no position to be making demands, nay threats toward anyone. It would be an effortless task for I to destroy thou's treasured relic of thou's only sibling. Hence why I propose a barter; allow me usage of thy domain, and I shall return that which means most to you. All I do is in service of Gaia, my creator. I seek not your antagonism, but merely to carry out the designs of my maker. No more than that."
Michael kept his aggressive stance, but his fury began to diffuse to an extent. He noticed this stranger's tone was in fact robotic and even dull sounding, just as Jaunty explained earlier. If there was any truth toward his claims, then perhaps he didn't mean him any real harm. Even so, his request failed to make sense to him. Did he really expect him to allow mere mortals into the realm of the dead willingly? Even he couldn't much stand the place for too long, and he was quite literally THE God of the realm!! All the same, the stranger did have a point he had to begrudgingly admit. As long as he held that bear hostage, he couldn't just fuck his day up like he otherwise would any other manner of maniac or monstrosity he encountered along his way.
"So I just have to let you use Deadside for a while, and then I get my brother's bear back. That sound about right?"
The man simply nodded his head before adding some new details regarding his exact request.
"Yes. However, the location I desire to show these mortals is even more unholy in nature, than perhaps even the whole of Deadside itself. I believe thou should know of this place all too well."
Michael was astounded at what the man was actually suggesting to him. He wanted to take these people to the Asylum?!? Maybe he was a psycho looney after all...
"... You can't be serious. Do you have any idea what you'll be putting these people through?!?"
The man didn't even flinch at what his request meant, but simply responded with a solemn nod to answer Michael's concerns.
"Sigh... fine, have it your way. Its not like I'm in a position to say no right now. Don't suppose you wouldn't happen to have a name, would you?"
"I am called Orochi. An avatar to the snake God of the same name, and the hand of mother Gaia's own will."
"Right... I'll remember that, just like you'd better remember to return the bear to me after you're done here. Got it?!?!"
Orochi simply nodded once again, before suddenly vanishing out of sight. Michael assumed he was heading straight for the Asylum to set up this "lesson" as he made it sound. He began to make his way there, knowing that staying here no longer served a purpose.
All Michael Leroi knew by this point was, he reeeaally could go for a stiff drink at the end of all this.
Japan Team Invitation
Kyo Kusanagi, the heir to the legendary Kusanagi clan whom played a huge role in sealing away the Orochi nearly 2 millennia ago, was currently walking home from school with his 2 closest friends and frequent KOF team-mates, the ever flashy, show boating Benimaru Nikaido, and the stoic, soft spoken, Judo giant, Goro Daimon. The 3 close friends were grinning from ear to ear about the latest KOF competition and the new "twist" it was supposed to have for the month of Halloween. Well, Kyo and Benimaru were certainly excited. Their friend Goro wasn't much for words or expression, but seemed to carefully regard the challenge with more tact than either of them were known to exert.
"Mark my words, we're gonna smoke all the other loser teams that show up to this thing! I can't wait to see what the new twist is like!"
Kyo spoke with his usual, trademark over-confidence and enthusiasm. He was no stranger to placing generously in KOF tournaments by far, and something like this should rightfully be no exception to a Kusanagi heir.
Benimaru's own arrogance wasn't much far behind his close friend, Kyo. Although he was more noted for boasting about his looks rather than his fighting ability, the young fashion model with powers over electrokinesis announced his confidence in winning this new challenge in style.
"For once, we agree Kusanagi. This time, the beautiful Benimaru will take the stage and show everyone whom boasts the best looks AND skills in KOF!!!"
Kyo merely rolled his eyes at his normally vain and flamboyant friend's otherwise harmless boasting. While he knew his friend had the skills to back up his boastings to a degree, it was still a bit much to listen to for too long.
As for their huge friend, Goro Daimon, he seemed to be in deeper thought than his 2 more cocky friends were regarding the nature of this challenge. They'd all read their letters naturally, but only he seemed to be giving it any real thought or consideration by comparison. Not that this surprised him as he was used to playing mediator and sage figure to both of their immaturity. As he remembered, the letter mentioned the competition promising an experience that guaranteed a one of a kind, "unspeakable", horror. He also couldn't remember an exact location of where said tournament would even be held in. Where might they travel to if they didn't even have a precise location?
As they neared the Kusanagi residence, Goro decided to question his friends regarding some of the details about the tournament itself.
"Does anyone else find it strange this tournament has no location? Where would we even go to sign up?"
Kyo and Benimaru looked at their massive friend, right before looking at each other. They had to admit, he did bring up a vital point. They hadn't even considered the details of the competition mainly because of their own excitement. Even so, the 3 friends and frequent tournament allies went inside Kyo's house to go over the details more intentively. Kyo briefly greeted his parents although he couldn't really hear a reply in return. He assumed they both were busy with something, before directing his friends to a comfortable sitting position.
As each fighter took their respective seats, they went straight to their letters to better analyze the details of the competition. Benimaru took immediate notice of something not even Goro managed to catch despite having been the one to bring the oddities of the invitation to light.
"It looks like we missed something important guys. The letter says each team requires a hand written poem, without it our team's invitation will be non-eligble. It also says we need a drop of blood from each willing participant of the team in order to enter. It doesn't look like my letter has it though..."
Goro and Kyo immediately checked their invitations for any such poem. Goro's came up empty, but Kyo's dropped a hand written poem as the letter had mentioned. It took him a moment to pick up on it dropping, but he soon scooped it up, straightened it out, and began to read it out loud toward his friends whom listened on curiously.
"The Lizard King shall lead The Five,
From out of the Southern gaol shall cut HIS bloody swathe,
True hate shall find a way,
In HIM the darkness stands revealed,
HIS eyes are void as a dead man's gaze,
As cold as the light of a dying star.
FOR WE ARE MANY."
The young fighters expressions could be described as a mixture of confusion and unsettlement. They had next to no clue what the poem could be even referencing, let alone the supposed significance the poem was supposed to have for participants of this challenge. Even so, Benimaru took the time to tease Kyo as he sometimes did regarding his own poem writing talent.
"Heh, you should take a lesson or 2 from the author on poem writing, Kyo!"
Kyo snarled a bit at his friend's jab at his poem writing, but brushed it off as he began to put 2 and 2 together. His intuition was telling him the poem was where they needed to direct each of their drops of blood, otherwise its inclusion in this whole thing was rather pointless. Maybe letting a drop of their own blood onto the poem would reveal some kind of clue as to what to do next.
"Wait here. I'm gonna retrieve something from the kitchen."
His friends simply shrugged as Kyo got up, and went to the kitchen as he said he would. Benimaru was still puzzled at what the poem was trying to tell them, while Goro's concerns were beginning to intensify with the more thought he gave the matter. Nothing about this invitation seemed right or normal for KOF standards. Sure, it was technically the month of Halloween, but none of them really celebrated the holiday anymore, whether due to their lives as fighters or their own personal affairs requiring more attention. Furthermore, who, or he supposed he should ask what was even a "Lizard King"?
Before either of them could say anything, Kyo had returned with a small knife he'd gotten from the kitchen. Wasting no time, Kyo explained his plan to figuring out the riddle the poem had presented them with.
"So that letter mentioned something about needing a drop of each our blood, right? Well, my guess is we'll need to let a single drop on the poem for it to work. We just make a slight cut on one of our thumbs, and let the blood trickle down the poem. Who wants to go first?"
"Not me! My blood's too precious to be spilled so carelessly. Why not Goro?"
Goro's expression seemed more stern than it usually was. He was never much for words, but it was clear by this point that this "competition" wasn't, nor would be the same as they'd been used to for so long. Before his friends and himself would be getting themselves into something they shouldn't be getting involved in, he finally spoke up to make his concerns known to his friends.
"Are we sure about this? This competition appears rather... different compared to what we've all done before. There's something very ominous about the details and lack of location. For all we know, this could be a scheme devised by Orochi to lure the 3 sacred clans out of hiding. We would be playing right into its hands if such is the case!"
Kyo huffed at what he considered his friend's paranoid and overactive imagination. He always knew Goro didn't much care for anything having to do with the macabre or the occult, but seriously, an "Orochi hosted competition"? If the snake God wanted a fight or could even be sensed, he no doubt would have already done so by now. Additionally, so what if Orochi was behind all this? It was never like him to back down from any challenge no matter the danger, and as a Kusanagi heir, it was also his duty to seal up the Orochi should it ever get loose to begin with.
"C'mon dude, do you really think if Orochi were loose, I wouldn't have sensed him by now? If you guys are really gonna wuss out over one stupid poem and a little blood trickling, then I'll just go first!"
True to his word, Kyo analyzed the poem for where he should let some of his blood trickle down. Surprisingly, he noticed there was stuffing taped top-center. It reminded him of stuffing from a toy animal or something. Wasting no further time, he took the knife he garnered from his family's kitchen and made a slight cut on his right thumb. He then proceeded to let slather some of his own blood on the stuffing taped to the poem. Once done, he immediately checked to see if he felt any different from before, only to notice he was perfectly fine and completely the same.
Placing the poem back on the table, he put his arms behind his head and stretched his legs out in a relaxed and cocky manner, just as he was known to do when suffering through yet another boring teacher lecture when in school.
"See? Nothing to worry about! Now are you guys gonna grow a back-bone, or do I have to win this whole thing by myself?"
Benimaru and Goro looked at each other before shrugging. While the judo champion still seemed slightly apprehensive, Benimaru couldn't stand to see himself be upstaged by anyone, even if that person happened to be one of his closest friends! Rather than cut, he decided to bite one of his thumbs with just enough pressure to draw blood, and then allowed the blood to trickle down the stuffing as Kyo had demonstrated only a moment ago.
Crossing his arms, Benimaru looked insulted he needed to draw his own precious reserves of blood simply to participate in a competition, but decided to not make any additional comment on it as now it was Goro's turn to join in the proverbial "blood pact" his friends had been forming. He gently asked for the knife Kyo had gotten from the kitchen, and proceeded to take it back in order to clean it appropriately, so that the rest of the family didn't need to know what they were up to. He then returned to where his friends were at the table before finally deciding to join them in this endeavor.
Although he was still relatively concerned and more than a little suspicious, he also knew he couldn't just let Kyo and Benimaru get themselves into danger without being there to assist them however he could. He too bit into one of his thumbs to draw blood, and allowed it to further wet the toy stuffing on the poem, careful not to let any of it smear the text as he did so.
For a short time, the 3 close allies simply sat in place, waiting around to see if anything was supposed to happen. Kyo had hoped doing what the letter had told them to do would have unlocked some hidden clue as to where they'd even need to go to participate, but so far nothing was happening.
Benimaru attempted to break up the awkward silence by chiming in on the fact that nothing, as of yet anyway, was transpiring, despite them all doing precisely as the letter had instructed.
"Ookaay... well, let me make it clear that'll be the last time I ever let Kyo convince me into being bl-"
"Uhh guys, does anyone else feel... off?"
Goro could feel an odd sensation threatening to overcome him as his massive body began to rumble and twitch. It was as if though all the chi from his body was being drawn out all at once, and he had no way of stopping it whatsoever! In one way, it should have felt empowering, but with how quickly it came over him, he almost felt as if though his body was being invaded by some unknown force. It was a terrifying sensation to behold, and he could only pray his friends weren't experiencing the same thing as he!
To his horror, Kyo and Benimaru were experiencing much of the same fate! The 3 friends collective, uncontrollable, vibrating and rumbling was beginning to even shake perhaps the very house itself. Benimaru was looking increasingly pale since this unexplained phenomena had begun to take place, whereas Kyo was looking nowhere near as cocky as he'd been just a few minutes ago. Of course, the young high school delinquent had too much pride to exhibit the full extent of his concern, but it was increasingly apparent all the same.
Unfortunately, he was nowhere near quick enough to stop the ongoing process of what was by any rational manner of thought, some matter of supernatural anomaly.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
Before they knew it, team Japan found themselves falling into the portal which literally formed around them in a matter of seconds, with no one the wiser to the incident besides themselves. Shortly afterward, it closed itself off, leaving what had just happened to all else akin to a tree falling in the woods, with not a single living soul around to witness it.
Wherever the 3 youthes were now, it was clear it was not of this world, but then where were they taken to? Furthermore, what of the other KOF teams throughout the world? Had they been given their own individual invitations as well, and had they been experiencing the same supernatural phenomena as Team Japan?
No matter the case, it was clear the KOF cast were in store for a Halloween festival they'd never experienced before. By the end of it all, no matter whom survived and lived to tell the tale there after, the challenge ahead promises to redefine the true meaning... of fear.
Author's Note: I believe this should about do it for this introduction of a fright-filled, KOF competition promising gruesome voodoo spectacle! Before I immediately begin to work on chapter 2, as well as the remaining teams of whom will be participating in said competition, allow me to make clear some vital details regarding the progression of this story.
I am not a romance or ship writer. This is because my writing skills in particular lack the ability to meaningfully progress character relationships forward, and additionally I do not wish for anything in particular to detract from the horror or fear aspect this story aims to deliver. I am neither in favor of, nor biased against any particular pairing specifically. It is (as of now of course) simply not the focus of my literary works as of yet.
Lastly, the teams featured in this story were simply the ones I found to be the most interesting to write around, nothing more than this simple fact. I understand if this causes disappointment within some of the viewer count whom decide to give this story a chance, but I sincerely hope you are capable of transcending said disappointment in order to give my work a chance. Though if it is not possible, that is perfectly fine as well.
That being said, do enjoy the chapters to come, and may all whom come to read be granted a happy, healthy, prosperous, and ultimately mortifying Halloween!!! Till we meet again, or as frequently stated in the game "Shadow Man", FOR WE ARE MANY!!!! ;)