Freaking Annoying Disclaimer: I don't own Street Fighter or any of the characters, nor will I ever.

Chapter Five

The bell rang for the fifth time that night, and a new fight was on. The reigning champion of that night's event was a bizzare man with bleach-white skin and limbs like rubber. He easily dispatched any competition, mostly playing a very good game of keep-away by punching and kicking from the other side of the cage. A man who looked of Caribbean descent fell to the floor of the ring, groaning before losing consciousness. The announcer didn't even waste time counting to ten. He simply approached the mutant and lifted his arm.

"And the winner again is...NECRO!"

As Remy moved silently among the crowd, he saw the defeated warrior being carried from the ring. His red training pants were tattered, but Remy could still make out the word "MAXIMUM" running down the sides of his legs.
Necro struck a comical pose, vocalizing operatically before leaning against the side of the ring. Remy approached the fight announcer, passing the entry fee across the counter.

"I think I can take him."

The fight promoter shrugged, sighing. "Your funeral, buddy boy. What's your name?"

"Remy," the Frenchman replied. "Just Remy."

The promoter chuckled heartily, leading Remy to the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen!" He rang the bell for attention.

"HERE COMES A NEW CHALLENGER!"

The mutant, Necro, laughed upon seeing Remy. "Hmph. Pretty-boy fighter. He doesn't even know what real combat is." He looked to Remy, nodding once. "Let's get it on!"

"Remy vs. Necro!" the announcer shouted. "Fighters, ready!" He raised his hand, striking the bell.

"ENGAGE!"

"Your judgement is at hand!" Remy dashed at Necro, who tried to throw his rubber arm toward the man's face. Remy dodged it, grabbing Necro's arm and trying to snap it with his knee. Necro laughed at this futile attempt.

"Don't waste my time, Frenchie! Just give up before you get hurt!"

Remy's eyes burned with anger as he looked at Necro from behind a wall of teal tresses.

"What...did you just call me?" He rushed Necro at this, pummeling him with a series of devastating strikes that targeted weaker areas of the body, such as the throat, solar plexus, and groin. At being struck in the latter area, Necro screamed out loud. He may have been a mutant, but dammit, he still had balls!

Remy grabbed Necro, throwing him into the air and jumping back. He pulled back his arm, and glowed for a moment.

"EI NIMURE!" he shouted, throwing nine of the same ring-shaped projectiles that had saved Hayao on the night they'd met. Necro was smacked and twisted about in all directions by the energy attack, and fell to the floor in a tangled mess of bleached flesh.

"Oh, goodness, Necro is down! One!" The fight promoter began to count.

"Two!"

Remy sighed, posing a bit. "Why are you doing this?" he asked Necro. "What is it that makes you fight?"

"Three! Four! Five!" the announcer continued. Necro showed no signs of moving.

Remy, upon getting no response from the mutant, sighed a bit. "I thought so...you don't know, do you?"

"Six! Seven! EIGHT! NINE!" The announcer raised a hand before reciting the final number.

"...TEN!" The bell chimed.
"That's it! It's all over, folks! The winner is...REMY!" He grabbed Remy's hand, thrusting it into the air. "Such a glorious victory, Remy! How do you feel?"

Remy jerked his hand from the announcer's grasp, scoffing.

"Victory, glory, and honor...Those ideas don't excite me a bit."

He stepped from the ring, collected his winnings, and was gone.

The street outside the fighting bar was well-lit, but Remy kept to the shadows to avoid letting anyone who saw the fight see him now. He didn't like the attention. He heard a voice call out to him...in English, oddly enough.

"Hey! Kid! Yeah, you, with the fruity blue hair!"

Remy stopped, but didn't look at the obviously American man standing twenty meters behind him.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked after a second or two.

"I saw you fighting in there." The American took a few steps towards Remy, who didn't seem to pay him any mind.

"Who the hell taught you that style!" The man seemed genuinely concerned.

Remy groaned, brushing some hair from his face.

"I taught myself. Why?"

"The hell you did! It took me years of training under all kinds of mentors..." The man stepped into the light, revealing a shockingly tall hairdo.

"...to learn that very same style!"

Remy turned around to face this man.

"Hmph." He shrugged. "You are American, are you not?"

"Yeah, I am. I learned that style you use in the American Special Forces." The man gave a menacing look to Remy. "I just wanted to tell you that of all the people I've seen use that style...you're easily the worst."

Remy snorted. "As if you could do any better with your precious 'training,' old man."

This made the American laugh out loud. "Well, why don't we just find out?" He looked around him. "No one on this street. We can have it out right now!" He assumed his stance, much more traditional than Remy's.

"Well? Are you man enough to fight with me?"

Remy tossed his hair back a bit, scoffing.

"Geh. Fine, if kicking your ass will get you out of my damn hair." He dove at the newcomer with a flying kick, which was parried and countered with a backflip-style kick that Remy often used, except this man apparently gave it a different name. "SOMERSAULT!"

Remy felt a reinforced combat boot strike him square beneath his chin, and he flew backward, landing on the ground in a heap. He rose slowly, dazed, but threw one of his ring attacks towards his assailant, who blocked it, yawning loudly.

"Here, junior. Let me show you how that attack is SUPPOSED to go!"

He threw both of his hands forward, throwing a similar projectile that was much larger.
"SONIC BOOM!"

Remy tried to jump over the attack, but as he came back down, his assailaint simply threw another which hit Remy square in the face. Remy knelt a bit, feeling quite dizzy. His attacker laughed, dashing to him and flinging his arms forward, summoning a massive close-range energy technique in the process.

"SONIC HURRICANE!" he screamed. But Remy screamed much, much louder.

As Remy crumpled to the ground, nearing unconsciousness, the American knelt down beside him, laughing loudly.

"You've got a lot to learn before you beat me. Try again, kiddo!"

He rose, and Remy could hear that infuriating laugh echoing in his head until, finally, he slipped into a forced slumber.