Blood

Chapter 1: Devils at the Doorstep

By Fool's Gold

Disclaimer: Garou Densetsu (Fatal Fury), Ryuuko no Ken (Art of Fighting), The King of Fighters, and all related characters are the property of SNK-Playmore. No profit has been made from this fic.


On hindsight, Rock reflected, Alaska would have been a better place to start. He paced down the streets of Second Southtown with little enthusiasm, wondering if he hadn't made a stupid mistake when he'd made the decision to return.

It had all started so well. The money in his bank account was more than enough to support him for several months, and he'd been able to rent an apartment on the north side of town for a reasonable price – and more importantly, without too many questions asked. It stood to reason, therefore, that the next act would have been to get a job. And so he had woken up one morning, grabbed a copy of the Southtown Classifieds, and started looking for job vacancies.

That was when the trouble started.

By rights, there should have been no lack of opportunities in a place like Second Southtown. The entire town was on the rebound following the Zero Cannon's devastation, and the local industries were growing rapidly under the influx of capital that had been poured into the town's reconstruction. There should have been work aplenty for all who sought it, for every practice and profession.

That was, every practice and profession, except the ones that Rock Howard sought.

His first option had been to return to the club where he had previously worked as a bouncer, the "Old Line". He liked the job: it was pretty calm most days, the music was good, and on the rare days when things got a little rough... he was ashamed to think about it, but the fights allowed him to vent a miniscule part of his rage in the only way he knew. It wasn't as though anyone complained – they knew they were asking for trouble, and soon enough, his reputation had been enough to scare most patrons into orderly behaviour.

On the first day, he had called up the owners, having seen their ad for hired help in the newspapers. They'd agreed to hire him for a trial period – after all, he had done a satisfactory job prior to his departure – and so, he'd gone to sleep that night in confidence of gaining a new job.

It came as a shock, however, when they called the next morning to inform him that his services would not be needed, citing "prior applicants" as their reason for rejecting him.

Their ad reappeared in the classifieds the next day, and Rock had departed, puzzled, in search of other work.

But everything went downhill from there: it seemed as though the harder he tried, the less jobs seemed to be available for him. Companies that had placed "Wanted" ads in the news now rejected him without even granting him an interview; if he was unlucky, the receptionist would cut him off the moment he even mentioned his name. Some of them gave the reason for their rejection as either "not meeting the stated qualifications" or "overqualified", if they were kind enough to give him a reason at all.

Rubbish, he thought. I applied for the exact same posts of chef at two rival diners, and I ended up with one of each reply.

He'd taken to wandering from building to building, knocking on doors and begging for work like a vagrant, albeit one with a much neater appearance. But none of them had given him much of a chance. The security guards had to politely reject him, usually after some consultation with their bosses, and so far he'd been turned down by at least twenty-five companies.

It hadn't ended there. He'd begun to notice that people on the street regarded him strangely, as though some alien or outcast walked their streets. Of course, part of him attributed it to his red eyes – you didn't see many such people around who weren't albinos. Another small part thought that he was overreacting to his current failure; he was just being paranoid.

That must have been my optimistic side, he mused cynically. But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that people were saying... things about him. Everywhere he turned, he saw pointed fingers and heard disparaging whispers, even though no one cursed him to his face, and the stares were beginning to take their toll on his already-depleted hopes.

And so, after two weeks of unsuccessful searching, he found himself walking dejectedly back to his apartment with nothing to show for his efforts except sore feet and a very heavy heart.

The sounds of unfamiliar speech began to drift into his ears as he walked northwards. It sounded vaguely related to the Japanese that his mother had taught him in happier times, yet he was unable to understand a single word of it.

Suddenly, he recalled where he had heard that language before. Three years ago, a pair of brothers had entered the tournament, speaking in the same tongue as the language that he heard now. They'd become fast friends, seeing how Terry knew their father, and they'd managed to build a short-lived friendship during the brief span of the competition. But Rock seemed to have picked up a small part of Terry's incompetence with languages; no matter how hard they tried, they could never teach him how to speak their tongue correctly.

It's Korean. I must be approaching Yok Chong Market.

A moment later, the smell of Korean cuisine wafted towards his nostrils, and he found himself to be correct. He also found himself to be terribly hungry: in his futile attempts to find work, he had inadvertently forgotten about lunch.

I'd better get something to eat. The stress already puts me at risk of stomach ulcers; no need to make it worse.

His stomach growled in assent.


"Hey, isn't that..."

"Yep. I'd recognise those eyes anywhere. Hang on, okay? I'm going to have a little fun."

"Now wait a minute! Where do you think you're going?"

"Relax, little bro. I promise I won't do anything life-threatening, okay? It's just that we haven't seen him for quite a while, and he needs a proper welcome and all that..."

"...if you make an ass of yourself, I'm going to walk off and pretend I don't know you."

"You always say that."


"Finally..."

Rock stopped, dead in his tracks: the words had been in English. And that voice sounded familiar...

"...the Rock... has... returned..."

He turned around, only to see a brown-haired man making a complete fool of himself.

To all appearances, the man was a nutcase. One foot rested on a stool that he had appropriated, while the other was placed on the table, much to the consternation of the shopkeeper who owned the articles. His hand was raised up to his lips, as though he was clutching an invisible microphone, and he stood on his precarious perch like some parody of a conquering general. Beside him, on the ground, a younger, blue-haired man looked the other way and put on his best "I Don't Know This Moron" look.

"...to Second Southtown."

There was only one guy who could possibly have been that flamboyant.

Kim Dong Hwan leapt down from the table, dragged his brother from his seat, and yelled, "Welcome back, Rocky! Where've you been?" The self-proclaimed taekwondo god was ecstatic on seeing a long-lost acquaintance, and obviously didn't try very hard to hide it.

Rock cringed, completely embarrassed by the unwanted attention that he was suddenly the centre of, and barely managed a feeble, "Hey."

"Sorry about my brother. He's a little... exuberant." Kim Jae Hoon muttered conspiratorially. Rock remembered him too: the younger brother had always been the more serious of the pair. Evidently, three years hadn't changed much.

Dong Hwan draped an arm lazily over Rock's shoulder, much to his discomfort, and said, "Hey. Lunch is on me. And while we're at it, you can tell us all about what's been happening these days. I'm sure you've got lots of tales for us."

Rock wasn't sure if he wanted to talk, but the offer of lunch was remarkably tempting to a hungry man.


It's amazing how anyone can eat that much, thought Rock, as he watched Dong Hwan start on his third helping of beef and rice. He himself had barely been able to finish his large helping, even though he'd been hungry like the wolf – bad pun, Rock. Bad pun.

"...so anyway, it turns out that Dad had survived by the skin of his teeth, and now he's back. He's retired, anyway – he's leaving the 'justice' stuff to Jae now." Dong Hwan's words were muffled by the rice that he'd shovelled into his mouth.

At least it's the right men coming back to life now. He remembered Terry's accounts about his father, and how he'd survived the fall off the roof of Geese Tower through means unknown... it seemed rather unfair for the good to die young and the wicked to keep coming back over and over again.

Jae Hoon glared disapprovingly at his brother's uncouth manners, and turned to their guest. "So, where have you been these three years? You disappeared right after the tournament, and nobody knew where you ended up." He took a sip of his soup, and continued, "We asked Terry, but all he would say was that you'd gone away."

Well, I just quit from my previous job as the right-hand man of the guy who succeeded my estranged father as the boss of the Southtown underworld.

"...I've been in business. I just resigned recently."

"What kind of business?" Jae Hoon's dark-blue eyes suddenly focused on Rock, boring through his cover story like a diamond-bit drill.

Dong Hwan looked up from his rice just long enough to mumble, "The word on the street is that you were hired by that poof, Kain."

It looks like there's no hiding anything from these guys. Rock shifted uncomfortably in his seat for an interminable period of time, as though Jae Hoon's stare had lit a fire under his seat. He wouldn't put it past the younger Kim's abilities either – Rock had witnessed his fiery techniques first-hand during the Maximum Mayhem tournament.

He finally elected to tell them the whole story. After all, Terry had trusted their father in his time; Rock knew that he could probably trust the man's sons.

"Okay, I know this is going to be a little hard to believe..."


"...and I've been unemployed ever since," Rock finished. There was a brief, stony silence as the two brothers listened, digesting the cold facts of his tale. He continued lamely, "I mean, I didn't want to do Kain's dirty work, but he kept holding that secret over me..."

"Don't worry, we're not going to judge you for that," replied Jae Hoon, after a while. "If he coerced you into supporting his crime syndicate, then I don't think anyone can hold you accountable."

Dong Hwan had listened in silence – a miracle, thought Jae Hoon, rather unkindly – until now. "Some uncle," he remarked indignantly. "Never lifted a finger to help your mom, didn't pick you up after your parents died, and now he pops up like a jack-in-the-box and forces you into partnership? If you ask me, you should have given him a few more punches for your mom's sake." He scratched his ear contemplatively.

Rock wished he had, too, but the risks had been too great: he knew it would have cost him his soul. "I have a violent pedigree... unlike your family," he muttered, hanging his head in resignation. And it comes from both sides of the family tree – my father's evil nature and my mother's cursed blood... so there's no escaping it, is there?

Jae Hoon thought over the possibilities for a long while, eventually saying, "Perhaps that's why you can't get a job. Considering that the people know about Kain's growing control of the Southtown underworld, and that his ex-right-hand man, a guy named 'Rock Howard', has fallen out of his favour, it stands to reason that the companies are afraid to hire you..."

"...or that they're being compelled to reject me."

"Perhaps." Jae Hoon looked thoughtful. Suddenly, a look of alarm crossed his face. "Is your life in any danger? After all, Kain's a mafia boss; there's no telling..."

"Not likely. If he wanted to kill me, he would have done so immediately after our battle." He shook his head. "No, he values blood ties too much for that. He intends to lure me back into joining him again. Either that, or he wants to chase me out of town." Rock was crestfallen at the thought. To think that his new start should have run into such difficulties, courtesy of his now-estranged uncle... the idea was truly depressing. All of a sudden, Alaska seemed more and more enticing.

As though his thoughts had been read, Dong Hwan spoke up. "What now, Rock? Tuck your tail between your legs and run away?" The query came out sounding more like a challenge, but Rock knew that he had to face up to the reality: he would either have to find a solution to the problem, or admit defeat and leave the town.

"I don't know." He buried his face in his hands, hunching over the empty plates of their meal. "I can't let him win, that's for sure. But that means I have to find some means of employment in Second Southtown."

Dong Hwan abruptly snapped his fingers, creating a small spark of lightning that caught Rock's attention. "I have an idea."

"Oh, no," moaned Jae Hoon in mock dismay. "You know, Rock, when he does that, it usually means that he hasn't used his brains."

"Shut up, Jae." Dong Hwan nudged his brother in the ribs. "I'm serious."

"That's a first."

"...I left myself open for that. Anyway," he continued, getting more and more excited, "I'm working as a bouncer at a bar right now. It's a small place, and the owners don't exactly like crimelords, no matter who's the guy in charge. If I could persuade them to let you work for them, maybe taking over part of my shift..."

"...then Rock would have a job, and you'd have more free time to eat, sleep and chase girls, right?" interjected his brother. "Sounds like a good idea." Jae Hoon grinned from ear to ear: it wasn't every day that he received the chance to irritate his brother. Most days, it was the other way around.

Dong Hwan pulled a face at him, and concluded triumphantly, "I'll tell you what. I'll notify them and let them set up the interview, and you can thank me later after you get the job."

To Rock, this was an incredible stroke of luck; he hadn't expected such a good ending to his futile job hunt. And he was immensely grateful to the brothers for having helped him out of his predicament. "Thanks for helping me out, guys. I don't know what I'd have done if you two hadn't come along."

"No problem," replied Jae Hoon, scribbling something down on the back of a scrap of paper and handed it to Rock. "That's our address and phone number. If you need anything, give us a call. Speaking of which, where're you staying?"

They exchanged contact information, and Rock rose from his chair. "I'd better be going now. Once again, thanks, guys." He walked out of the market slowly, feeling rather more optimistic than when he'd entered.

The Kim brothers watched him shuffle off slowly, wondering what strange fortune it was that had led the three of them to meet.

Finally, the elder brother broke the silence cautiously. "So, what's your opinion?"

Jae Hoon shrugged. "He's a good person – Terry brought him up well. But he seems to have too many burdens to bear for a guy of his age." Turning to his brother, he stared at him with serious eyes. "I mean, after what he's been through, and what he said about his families... there's no knowing if he'll be able to lead a normal life. He needs all the help he can get."

Dong Hwan, ever the unflappable one, stretched and yawned. "That's what we're here for, eh, little bro?" He winked. "Remind me to check with them tomorrow, okay?"

"You're awfully self-confident about this, aren't you? 'Thank me later, after you get the job'? Yeah, right."

"Okay, so I put on a little show to boost our friend's confidence. Big deal."

"You're right," muttered Jae Hoon. "And I suppose we can be confident about this..."

"Hmmm?"

"...if they're willing to hire you, they'll take on anybody."

"HEY!"


The next day was glorious. The sun blazed brightly in a clear sky, the air was fresh and crisp, the birds were singing... and Dong Hwan wasn't noticing any of it, considering that he was still fast asleep.

Jae Hoon returned home, having taught the morning's batch of students in the gym, and was aghast to find his brother sprawled over the bed and snoring away. Typical Dong Hwan, he thought, and proceeded to do the one thing that would wake him up.

Dong Hwan awoke to find himself soaring through the air, and barely righted himself in time to avoid landing on his head. His younger brother then proceeded to toss the rest of the pillows at him, yelling, "It's ten-thirty, you lazy bum! You'll be late for work... again!" Jae Hoon grumbled, continuing, "I don't have to hurl you out of bed every morning, do I?"

The sleeper rubbed his bleary brown eyes, mumbling, "C'mon, Jae. The bar opens at eleven. I can afford to take my time, can't I?"

Jae Hoon's face was contorted into a mess of exasperation and pain. "Not today. Remember, you owe someone a favour... and you'd better be on the good side of your bosses when you talk to them."

"...Oh, crap."

In a flash, Dong Hwan was in the bathroom, trying desperately to make himself look presentable. Jae Hoon had never seen his brother move so quickly, unless he was in a fight... or eating... or chasing girls.

On second thought, that meant practically all his waking hours.

Dong Hwan catapulted himself out of the bathroom, frantically changed into a decent set of clothes, and was out of the bedroom door like a streak of lightning. Jae Hoon could hear his mother's voice yelling from downstairs.

"Dong Hwan! What do you think you're doing?"

"Sorry, Mom! Gotta run!"

A sigh of despair escaped Jae Hoon's lips. Some things never changed...

Twenty-nine minutes later, an exhausted Dong Hwan stumbled up to the door of the bar where he worked, panting from the sheer exertion of chasing after buses that perversely seemed to flee from him, and collapsed on the ground.

The bartender, co-proprietor and ex-bouncer of the Illusion Bar stepped out, her sharp gaze locked onto her wristwatch. "Not bad," she said, with the barest traces of a French accent in her English. "You're on time today. Who knows, if you make this a habit..."

"No thanks, it's bad for my health." In spite of his condition, Dong Hwan was still in a reasonably good humour.

"Very funny, Dong Hwan. Now, obviously nothing short of Orochi would have made you wake up early, so what was it you wanted to see us about?" She brushed the fringes of her short, blonde hair, bemused by the young man's comical appearance.

Dong Hwan picked himself up from the pavement and put on his most charming smile, trying his best to convince the woman of his cause. "You see, Mrs. Sakazaki, there's this friend of mine..."

"When you smile like that, it usually means trouble. Let's go inside."

The two of them walked into the bar, the bartender hanging the "Closed" sign behind her.


They sat in one of the booths in the bar, negotiating the terms of Rock's employment. Dong Hwan had made a rather convincing case, but the woman known as King hadn't made it this far in Southtown without being particularly shrewd. She pursed her lips in thought, tapping a finger on the table, and commented, "Well, we are a little short on help right now, and he is a friend of Terry's..."

"So you'll hire him, won't you?" Dong Hwan's voice was eager.

King raised a gloved hand. "Not immediately, Dong Hwan. We'll have to interview him first. My husband's pretty wary about the hired help these days, considering my condition." She sat back in the chair, waiting for Dong Hwan to respond to the slight.

He obliged. "I'm recommending him, and if you want to, you could always give the Bogards a call if you need character references."

"I know, but it's policy." Her eyes suddenly grew distant, remembering the battles of times past. "It's been a while since we last saw him, you know, back in the King of Fighters tournaments. He was such an adorable little kid back then... but time changes everyone, and you did mention his 'previous employment record', if I remember correctly."

"Don't worry about it. My brother and I will vouch for the guy."

King thought that Dong Hwan would have made a good salesman, with his permanently confident demeanour that never seemed to disappear. If only he'd learn to talk less and listen more... and grow up. Aloud she said, "Still, we'll have to set him up for an interview. My husband will insist on it. Anyway, you can tell your friend to drop by the bar tomorrow morning, before opening hours, and we'll interview him. Eight o' clock should be fine." She wagged an admonishing finger at the present bouncer. "And he'd better not be late, unlike a certain someone... now get to work!"

"Sheesh, Mrs. Sakazaki. You sure know how to make a guy feel bad." Dong Hwan's cheesy grin grew wider than ever, and he stepped out into the open air. The young man rifled through his wide pockets, finally pulling out his cellular phone, and dialled Rock's number.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded a little more cheerful than he remembered.

"Hey, Rock. It's me, Dong Hwan. Your interview's at eight o' clock tomorrow morning. Go down to the Illusion Bar on the east side of town."

The words sparked a distant memory in Rock's mind. Why does that name sound so familiar?

"And don't forget to tell us about your success, okay?"

"Sure." Rock hung up the phone with a click, and started his mental preparations for the interview.

It's just a job as a bouncer... I mean, how hard could it be?


Me and my stupid overconfidence.

Rock found himself shrinking into his seat before the man on the other side of the table. Not that the man was physically imposing: he stood no taller than Rock, although he was of bulkier build, but Rock had faced off against opponents the size of linebackers without flinching and won easily.

No, he decided, the man's power came from within. He could sense the older man's aura – a fighting spirit that could have overpowered all but the strongest of fighters. And there was a familiarity about that aura that he recognised: from the days when Terry had brought him to the fighting tournaments, he had learnt to identify the strong contenders simply by sensing their power, one fighter to another. Terry had reflected such power; so did this man sitting opposite him now. And his presence, though not particularly menacing, still threatened to make this one of the toughest interviews that Rock had ever gone through.

"Name?" The man's voice was gruff and impersonal.

"Howard... Rock Howard." So far, so good.

Unfortunately for him, the interviewer's eyes narrowed in suspicion upon hearing that name. "Sounds familiar."

Rock swallowed hard.

The man at the table continued, "Age?"

"Er... twenty-one since last month."

"That's what they all say." It was the truth, according to Rock's ID, but the interviewer just wanted to see what the boy did under pressure.

Rock squirmed, but replied weakly, "It's on the card."

"Okay." He took some notes and continued with his next question. "Family?"

"Dead." I thought my mother was alive, until recently. "Legal guardian, Terry Bogard."

"Yeah, I've heard the name." The man did not seem impressed. He scribbled on his pad for a little while, and then went on to ask, "Any criminal record?"

Rock was silent. He sat in the chair, stock-still, facing off against the formidable man opposite him. What was he to do? It went against his grain and upbringing to lie, but to reveal the truth about his time in the underworld would probably cost him the interview, as well as his last chance at employment. He'd been denied work for telling far less.

And so, the two of them waited in silence. To Rock, it seemed as though the man had suddenly grown in size, looming over him like a dangerous beast, waiting for him to fumble. The bar seemed smaller now – or was that just his imagination? In his mind, he saw himself as the cornered prey and his interviewer as the ravenous dragon, toying with its prey before devouring it whole. There was no escape from this booth; he would have to fight his way out... He forced himself to maintain a calm exterior, knowing full well that he would surely turn out to be the loser if things came to blows.

And suddenly, the oppressive aura vanished, and the bar returned to its rightful state. Rock slumped into his seat just a little, relieved.

"Very good, young man. You're hired."

The interviewer stroked the faint stubble on his chin, continuing, "You're a little impulsive, but you've got a good heart and a fighting spirit to back it, like the reports said. Lesser men would have panicked or started a fight by now."

Upon hearing this, the female bartender turned to the booth, calling out, "Ryo, were you trying to intimidate the applicant again? You know, it's not good for business."

He smiled back at her fondly. "Just checking something."

Rock froze in his seat. Like the reports had said? Who were these people? The name "Ryo" was, once again, another vague memory in his head, but he couldn't place it either.

"Excuse me for asking, but your name sounds familiar..."

The blonde man laughed heartily. "It had better be! I'm surprised Terry didn't mention us more frequently. I'm Ryo Sakazaki, and that lady over there tending the bar is my wife, King." He extended his hand in greeting.

Rock accepted the handshake with clammy palms, finally remembering where he'd heard the name before. "Wait... you're the current master of the Kyokugen school of Karate, aren't you?" That had explained the man's latent power – he was another one of Southtown's fighting legends! Terry had described his powers as, "probably rivalling mine"; no mean feat for any fighter. "There was a guy from your school in the Maximum Mayhem tournament..."

Ryo nodded in assent. "I see you've met Marco, then. He said you cleaned his clock thoroughly, you know."

The young man was surprised the unexpected praise. He remembered that fight – it hadn't been one-sided at all, from what he recalled. He'd come from the contest sorely punished, winning only by a hair. But then again, the Brazilian exponent was frank, if anything.

Ryo continued, "Anyway, my wife mentioned that you were looking for work, so I took the liberty of checking the facts with Terry – the interview was just a formality. Terry spoke quite highly of you."

No wonder, thought Rock. But there was one thing that puzzled him.

He turned to King, stammering, "N-not to be rude, Mrs. Sakazaki, but..." He trailed off, wondering how to phrase his query. "I mean, Terry mentioned that you were an excellent fighter, and that you used to be a bouncer yourself, so..."

"What's the matter, Rock? Cat got your tongue?" King was incredibly bemused by Rock's bashful nature. "You know, Ryo, you used to be like that once, didn't you?"

"Honey, you should know better than to bring that up... And stop teasing the kid already." Ryo complained, although more for his own benefit than Rock's.

"So... why are you all shorthanded? With Dong Hwan around, two bouncers should be enough to handle anything." Rock scratched his head, slightly confused.

"A word of advice, Rock." King waved her hand at the bewildered boy. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth – unless you're my husband, and even then Tatsumaki doesn't count."

"What?"

"Never mind, it's an inside joke." She smiled cryptically, confusing Rock even further. "With regards to your question, let's just say that I've been prohibited from doing any custodial work for the next half-year or more, due to my current... condition."

Rock caught the looks exchanged between husband and wife, and flushed deeply once again when he realised what they were talking about. He didn't need to ask any further.

He did make it a point, however, to handle things more carefully around the pregnant woman.


Notes: No pre-readers were harmed in the production of this chapter.

What is a pregnant woman doing at the bar? Well... I guess a bartender who drinks on the job is called "irresponsible". Correct me if I'm wrong.

I refuse to call Marco Rodriquez "Khushnood Butt". It's a matter of principle.

For details on Kim Kaphwan's current condition (alive), please read "A Father's Sins, A Father's Sons". It's mediocre, but it includes a little background on the Kims.

I can never figure out King's eye colour: it was green in the KOF2000 selection screen and blue in the ending. Therefore, any reference to the colour of her pupils has been edited out. We apologise for any inconvenience caused.

Inside joke: "Tatsumaki" is Ryo's horse.

Comments, corrections and constructive criticism will be welcomed.