"It says you're going to fight Terry Bogard next but you're Terry! How's that work?" Rock piped up from the bracket board. He crossed his arms and shoved his little nose in the air as high as it would go - which wasn't all that high. "The organizers must have made a mistake. Very silly."

Terry bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing and checked the KoF bracket. Yep, Terry Bogard vs Terry Bogard. He ruffled Rock's hair and said, "Nah, just an imitator. You get them sometimes."

"An imitator?" Rock wiggled out from under his hand and looked up, curious.

"It's someone who doesn't have his own style, so he borrows mine. Kind of pathetic, really." He put a hand on his hip and started lecturing. "Listen, you gotta be yourself. Find your own style. No imitation's ever gonna beat the original. That's what it means to be a top-class fighter, all right?"

Rock frowned. "But what if he wins?"

"He's not going to win. He's just a fake. A phony."

"But what if," Rock screwed up his face as far as it would go, "what if he wins? What if you get a tummyache-"

"I don't have a tummyache-"

"-or a bright light flashes in your eyes-"

"I know how to avoid the sun-"

"-or you slip on a banana peel-"

"There aren't any banana peels in the ring, Rock, don't be silly-"

"or, or tentacled aliens from Mars invade right when you're fighting him and you're too busy dodging their UFOs to dodge him and he wins?" Rock finished all in a rush.

Terry gave him a long look. "There's no such thing as aliens from Mars, kid."

"Yes there are! I read it in the paper," Rock said with the absolute conviction of someone who hadn't been introduced to the concept of tabloids. "The evil terrorist attack was controlled behind the scenes by invaders from Mars and brave soldiers from the Pene- Pena- the Falcon Squad fought them off."

Terry crouched down beside the kid and sighed. "I have got to stop letting you read stuff from the checkout line," he muttered. Louder, he said, "Look, Rock, that stuff isn't real. They made it up to sell papers."

"They wouldn't let them print it if it wasn't real, and besides, they had pictures! Four soldiers-" he hurried on before Terry could point out that you could dress anyone up in a uniform "-and a tank. And a rocket launcher." He crossed his arms and glared, firm in the belief that no one would ever fake a tank.

Terry opened and closed his mouth a few times before giving up and accepting he was going to have to talk to someone else about this before Rock started telling everyone about batboys. For right now, the match was about to start. He put a hand on Rock's shoulder and said, as firm and steady as he could: "No matter what, he's not going to win. He's just a cheap copy, and I'm the original. The original always wins." Rock chewed this over for a bit, came to a conclusion that made his lip tremble, and Terry cut him off before he could say it. "And don't worry, I'm definitely the original. I've got you, right? No fake can imitate that." He patted Rock's head again and got a tentative smile back.

The two-minute match warning rang.

"All right, time to show 'em what a real wolf can do!" Terry said, to Rock's cheers. He stood up, faced the ring, and froze.

On the other side his blue doppelganger was just standing up too - right next a kid in a bright yellow shirt, the spitting image of Rock.

I will never stop loving the general SNK conceit that 2P characters are just celebrity imitators.

Parents, don't let your kids read the Weekly World News. I did, and look what happened to me.