HELLO EVERYONE!

I'm sorry for the long delay: I didn't get a computer to really type at until last Sunday. Well, I'm back now, and I promise to keep this story going!

thunder: no, Doren has no relation to Mr. Ariel...funny how they're both involved in Israeli political affairs though, isn't it? And believe it or not, Natasha has inspiration from my piano teacher at college! Both of them are Russian(and very very pretty) and know how to make their own vodka!

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Even though the previous King of Iron Fist Tournament had only been concluded a mere two weeks ago, the masses' lust for battle brought them to other fighting tourneys. Sumo tournaments, boxing matches, and martial arts entertainment was still rampant in Tokyo following the famed King of Iron Fist. Perhaps one of the more popular outings was professional wrestling. Even though it occasionally gained criticism because it usually followed a script of sorts, the crowds continued to pile into the stadium to watch the muscle-bound behemoths grapple with each other.

One such competition was being held in Tokyo at the Saitama Super Arena. The arena, also known the symbol of the Saitama New Urban Center, is located on the outskirts of Tokyo. The arena frequently holds a variety of different events, including concerts, sporting matches, exhibitions, and trade fairs, among other things. Jin Kazama had chosen this arena as one of the locations for the first two rounds of the previous King of Iron Fist tournament, continuing to add to its fame.

Once the crowd had gathered, the vendors within the arena shouted out their menus as they passed by the rows and rows of fans that had purchased tickets to be allowed access into this particular wrestling event. After a few minutes of this, the lights began to dim as all eyes focused on the center stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to this special event featuring some of the greatest grapplers in the world today! Our first match featuring the number one ranked wrestler in Europe, and a King of Iron Fist Tournament veteran!" The announcer standing in the ring shouted into his microphone as his voice echoed over the cheers and screams of fans. The spotlight turned to the far southeast end of the arena to reveal a door. The faint sound of bagpipes emitted from the door as the announcer began the first competitor's introduction.

"He's 6'10 and weighing in at 340 pounds of muscle, he is undefeated in his career in the grappling circuit. Coming from Scotland at 36 years old, please welcome the Pancratium Paladin of Pain: Angus 'the Annihilator' McGregor!"

A giant of a man with a long red beard and a bald head came walking down the runway sporting a dark red t-shirt and long plaid trousers with two beautiful Japanese women at his side playing two instruments that were quite different from each other: one playing bagpipes, and the other with an electric guitar. As the two continued to play a heavily remixed version of "Scotland the Brave," Angus approached the ring and jumped over the ropes, landing with a powerful thud within the stage. As he came down, he let out a primal roar as sparks shot out of flame jets just next to the turnbuckles.

"And his opponent this evening: he's the reigning WNW champion and has qualified in the last four King of Iron Fist Tournaments," the crowd began to get itself into a frenzy as jungle drums began to beat across the arena whilst the spotlight rushed over to the northwest runway to the ring. Inhuman snarls emitted from the door at the end of the runway while the announcer finalized the introduction. "Weighing in at 198 lbs at 6'7", behold the Anger of the Beast: coming from Mexico at 31 years young, heeeeeeeeeere's King!"

Welcome to the jungle
We got fun 'n' games
We got everything you want
Honey we know the names
We are the people that can find
Whatever you may need
If you got the money honey
We got your disease

Another muscular powerhouse came running down to the ring wearing purple spandex with golden boots and gloves. On his waist were the words "King: Anger of Beast" and his white t-shirt sported in yellow "Welcome to the Jungle." Of course, what made him stand out the most was not his colorful attire, but his trademark golden jaguar mask that hid his face. King was a champion of champions: kids looked up to him, he gave money to orphans, and he stayed away from shady organizations. And just like the predecessor who wore the jaguar mask before him, King competed in the King of Iron Fist Tournaments regularly.

Jumping into the ring by slinging himself over the ropes, King struck a dynamic pose for the crowd, who acknowledged with deafening cheers. King didn't think that he would ever grow tired of the spotlight, because as long as the spotlight was on him, he would receive more money, and that meant more money to the orphanage.

"BAH! Your wrestling is all smoke n' mirrors," Angus snatched the microphone from the announcer within the ring and pointed arrogantly at the masked wrestler. "Today, ah'm going to show you what wrestling's all about!" Tossing the microphone back to the announcer, Angus flexed his muscles some more and received a mix of cheers and boos. The two grapplers got in their respective corners as the announcer stepped out the ring, waiting for the match to officially begin at the sound of a bell…

DING!

Jumping into action, King and Angus latched onto each other and grappled, much to the excitement of the crowd. Neither fighter budged as their bones creaked from the pressure being applied on their bodies, attempting to get the other in a position that they could exploit. After a little over seven seconds of the standoff, King lost his footing and Angus lifted the luchadore off the ground and held him over his head. King struggled to get loose, but Angus kept his grip and brought him down by throwing him downwards while getting into a sitting position in perhaps the perfect union between a power bomb and a pile driver.

"GA-HAHA," the crimson-clad oaf let out a boorish laugh as he fell on King stomach first with a body splash. "Come on, laddie! I didn't come all this way so I could face a punching bag!" The ringside judge quickly got on his belly and began the three count. It looked as if the match would end far sooner than anyone paid money for.

Breaking free from Angus' pin at "2," King rolled away and regained his footing. As he bounced on the soles of his feet, King's ki began to flow across his body and began to circle the Scottish wrestler in front of him with small jumps and skips. Angus let out an angry shout and ran towards the luchadore with his arms opened wide. The Scotsman was evaded easily as King stepped to the side and Angus ran right into the ropes. Bouncing off the ropes, Angus ricocheted back at the luchadore and was rewarded for his brash assault with a drop kick to the back of his head.

Angus toppled over and fell to the mat as he gripped the back of his head in agony. With a gesture to the crowd, King ran over to a turnbuckle and climbed up to the top, pointing skywards as he prepared to begin his aerial assault. Leaping high into the air, King plummeted downwards to the Angus with his world-famous High Elbow Drop. However, Angus rolled out of the way, thus causing King to miss his mark and land on the mat with a thud followed by a snarl of pain.

Looking up to see Angus jump into the air to land on him buttocks-first, King scrambled back up and caught the Scotsman as a boy would catch a ball in a schoolyard. Holding Angus over his head in the same fashion that he had held him seconds before, King threw Angus to the mat hard with a devastating power bomb. Crouching over his fallen opponent, King got Angus in a headlock as the judge once again began the three-count. Somewhere between "1" and "2," Angus rolled over and performed a sit-up to yank himself free, with King now underneath him. Avoiding a pin, King used all of his strength to push the behemoth off of him.

With another boisterous belly laugh, Angus watched King get back up and slapped the luchadore in the face with an open-palmed slap, and followed up with a second slap that sent the Mexican reeling back. Quick to recover, King ducked under a forward kick and sent his foe airborne with an uppercut, then grabbed Angus in midair and tossing him to the ground with his Running Jaguar Bomb.

Angus stood back up and pushed the charging King into the ropes and mashed his face with a clothesline that sent King right back into the ropes. Attempting to avoid getting hit again, King grabbed onto the ropes as he came to them and used the momentum to swing over them and come back at Angus with a drop-kick, his Tiger Feint maneuver, which sent Angus flying to the other side of the ring. The crowd once again erupted in cheers as Angus kept his footing and shook his head from dizziness while King once again posed for the crowd. However, Angus recovered faster than expected, and sent King to an opposite turnbuckle as the luchadore came charging towards him with a chest thrust.

The two grapplers stood in their respective corners to catch their breath. King's matches in the King of Iron Fist Tournament had helped prepare him for facing a foe as big as Angus, and Angus's long career in Europe had toned his endurance to withstand King's powerful technique. The sweat and blood on their bodies oozed from their pores and wounds the crowd continued to cheer despite the temporary break in fighting.

Unfortunately, the fight would not be finished in a proper manner.

The ring began to shake violently, causing the two grapplers and the ringside judge to look around puzzled as they struggled to keep their footing. After a little over three seconds of violent shaking, the center of the ring burst open as something popped out of it like a mole emerging from the ground. When the dust settled, the crowd murmured to each other in confusion: there was a new fighter in the ring.

The figure had a similar size and build to King, but his appearance was far different. He was covered in crimson armor all across his body, with a demonic skull emblem splashed across his chest and his back. His shoulderpads and kneepads also had a bony shape, except they were white and had the form of a human skull. His face was covered with a metallic version of an ancient Aztec mask, and his eyes glowed a dull yellow. Emitting steam from the jetpack on his back, the mystery challenger dashed over to Angus and lifted him over his. Before the Scotsman knew what was going on, the mystery man's jetpack roared as they were propelled into the air, where he spun Angus around by the legs and flung him out of the ring where the Scotsman crashed through the windows of the luxury booths and landed on a couch within.

Landing back in the ring, the interloper pointed at King, then rang his thumb across his neck: it wanted to challenge the tired luchadore. King, not being one to say no to someone who interrupted his fight and thus prevented him from getting money for the orphanage, let loose a snarl and ran towards the interloper, preparing to bash him with his most powerful striking technique: the Jaguar Lariat. However, the interloper narrowly sidestepped the attack and grabbed the luchadore by the neck and once again took to the air with that awful jetpack. Once the two had reached the ceiling of the arena, the interloper altered his grip on King so that he was clinging to his back, and the pair went spiraling downwards headfirst into the mat with a sickening slam. King seemed to stop moving safe for shallow breathing as he lay in the ring.

The boos and hisses of the crowd echoed throughout the dome as the interloper looked over the fallen King. Turning to his left, he saw numerous policemen come through the door and make their way to the stage. With the crowd now well aware that what the interloper had done was not part of the match plan, the booing continued to increase.

He had no intention of staying long…he just wanted to collect his prize. The interloper grabbed King's head just as the luchadore began to stir. The two stuggled violently, until the interloper kicked the Mexican in the head and yanked the jaguar mask off. King's long brown hair flopped down from the mask and fell over his face as the police fired upon the interloper who jumped down into the hole he made into the ground and vanished.

As King lost consciousness, he could only think of one thing as the police circled the hole in the ground: how he had just lost his most prized possession.

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20 minutes later…

King, along with Angus, was given a clean bill health by a ringside doctor shortly after the intruder attacked. Once he had gotten confirmation that he could walk, the luchadore quickly ran past the crowds and into the locker room. He had just lost his life's work: the mask of King. His predecessor and sensei had entrusted him with that sacred façade, and he lost it to someone who simply took it from him in only one attack.

"There he is, lad. Hope ye talk some sense into the poor soul…"

Upon hearing Angus' voice, King looked up and saw a blonde-haired young man dressed in a light blue knit shit and navy-colored leather pants, with a pair of nose-pinch glasses sitting on his face. "'ello, chum," the man said with an English accent as he walked up next to the bench where King was sitting. "How are you feeling?"

"…I have just lost everything I have worked to achieve," the Mexican's long hair cloaked his face in an almost-symbolic fashion. "Why are you here, senor Fox?"

"I just wanted to see how you were, King," Steve pushed back his glasses slightly as he took a seat next to the wrestler. "We King of Iron Fist blokes have to stick together. After all, we're both champions of our trade who have faced adversity…so I can relate to losing because of something that went wrong from the outside…"

"Please do not call me by that name," King hung his head down in shame. "I have no right to it anymore. I am a champion no longer…"

"Oh, come now," Steve chuckled slightly in a vain attempt to lighten the mood. "Wrestlers switch names all the time! Surely you could find work under a different stage name. After all, most of the stuff is script-"

"IT IS NOT THE SAME," King bellowed out ferociously while fighting back tears. "When a luchadore loses his mask, he loses the right to continue fighting. It is not just something to cover our face; it is our way of life. It isn't like the professional wrestling back in the United States or Japan or the United Kingdom."

"But you didn't lose it in an official match," Steve protested. "Once we find the felon, you can go right back to helping the children in the orphan-"

"…it makes no difference. He has the mask, and as long as he does, I can do nothing," the Mexican's hair hung down like vines, blocking his face from Steve. "That is the way of the luchadore…"

"…so that's it then…it's over?" Steve stood back up with a frown on his face. "King, the proud and honorable warrior...has been reduced to this blubbering mess because of a mask?" The Englishman's disappointment quickly turned to rage as he watching King sob quietly. "Even though you are no longer a luchadore, you are still a man! If you are going to just throw in the bloody towel, then you had no right to call yourself a champion to start with!"

Steve turned around and headed for the door. "Well, I intend to get that mask back, King, whether you want me to or not…because I can't bear to see your orphans' faces when they realize what a sorry sod you've become…"

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Unbelievable…I had no idea that bloody mask was so important.

Steve walked back into the main area of the Saitama Super Arena as he pondered how King had acted. The man sounded like he had just lost his wife or his child. Even though he knew that a luchadore's mask was his trademark, he didn't expect the King of Iron Fist veteran to beat himself up like that over it. I still have to find that mask, though. Maybe when I get it back, I can challenge King for it so he could feel better that he earned it back…

"I have been waiting for you, ShinkenBlue…"

Steve turned his head in surprise as he heard an eerily-robotic voice call out his alter-ego. Scanning the arena warily, Steve slowly readied his morpher. Finally, the Englishman spotted his quarry standing in the ring with his arms crossed. It was the same man who attacked King and Angus. "Returning to the scene of the crime so soon after committing it," Steve shook his head in disgust. "Have you no shame?"

"The master has charged me with your elimination. I shall comply by bringing you to him, broken and helpless." The interloper continued his robotic speech, as if completely ignoring what Steve had just said. "Prepare for defeat."

"First thing's first: give me King's mask back, and then I'll take you on." Steve walked up to the stage and outstretched his hand, hoping that (but knowing that it wasn't likely to happen) the mechanical menace would do as he said. "That mask is very close to him: you might as well have cut his tackle off with what you did."

"The Jaguarandi mask is a sacred artifact. My master wishes to have it in his possession." The fiend tossed to mask aside to a nearby turnbuckle. "The fleshling should have been better prepared to guard such a prize. I did him a favor by ridding him of it."

"It was not yours to begin with. You only have a right to it if you defeat him in an official match." Steve climbed over the ropes and got into a corner opposite of the grappler. "So how about we make a wager: if I beat you, you give me the mask back, and if you beat me, I go with you no questions asked. How does sound, mister…?"

"…I am Aztechno the Lucha Machine, and I accept your challenge." Aztechno put his thumb on his chest before assuming a fighting stance. "Transform immediately and prepare to be crushed. The wager is valid so long as you do not call for help."

"That sounds fair," Steve shrugged his shoulders as his morpher glowed with power and indigo light consumed his body. Aztechno did not shield his eyes from the blinding glare of Steve's henshin as his ShinkenBlue suit formed across his body. As soon as the helmet finished materializing over his head, the Englishman got into a fighting stance and moved out of his corner. "Come on, mate…let's go nuts!"

Aztechno sprung into action with a puff of steam from his jetpack and began to circle the ring warily in quick jumps to the side. "Boxers are no match for wrestlers. Muhammad Ali was only able to force a draw with Antonio Inoki because of the many safeguards and rules." Aztechno dashed forward suddenly and began to slide his feet on the ground. "There are no rules in this ring. Prepare to be crushed!"

Steve narrowly dodged Aztechno's sliding kick by jumping over him just as he came by. However, he was not out of trouble by a long shot. Crashing into the ropes, Aztechno ricocheted across the ring and pounded Steve from behind with a lunging head-butt that had the Englishman fall flat on his face. Grabbing the Shinkenger's fallen body by the legs, Aztechno swung Steve around and tossed him into a turnbuckle where he crashed head-first. Oy…it's a good thing I'm wearing a helmet, or my face would be hamburger from this here turnbuckle, Steve shook his head from the collision and counted his blessings. Now it's time I showed him some tricks of my own!

"There is one thing that separates me from the great Ali," Steve leapt towards Aztechno and landed on the mechanized terror's foot. "My style isn't limited to pure boxing, and that means I can do dirty little things like this little maneuver!" Latching onto Aztechno's arms and tucking them under his shoulders, Steve bent over backwards and sent the luchadore crashing to the ground in a suplex. Quickly getting back up, Steve dropped right back down onto Aztechno with an elbow drop.

Aztechno, quickly recovering, pushed Steve off of him and regained his footing with Steve still in his grasp. The luchadore laughed with a mechanical whirring as his wrapped his left arm around Steve's neck and began pulling. After a few seconds of Steve stuggling to break free, Aztechno jumped into the air with his foe and the two landed on the ground with a thud with a Bulldog Drop.

Scrambling back onto his feet before Aztechno could mount him for another grapple, Steve rose back up with a powerful uppercut, then brought fists downwards for a potent double combination. Ducking under his foe's counterattack, a powerful lariat, Steve countered with a forward punch that sent the fiend flying back to the ropes. Now to use the momentum of the ropes to bounce him back at me, Steve formulated a plan as he reared back and his fist crackled with power in preparation for his most powerful technique: the Hellfire punch. And here he comes now…

Just when it seemed that Steve had Aztechno where he wanted however, the luchalibre used his jetpack to fly upwards and thus avoiding the lethal blow. Landing behind Steve, Aztechno grabbed him by the neck and began flying around the ring with him. Crashing his head into a turnbuckler, Aztechno flew with Steve into another of its kind until the effect was like a pinball bouncing off of targets. After the sixth collision, the two of them flew up into the air until they reached the ceiling. Oh no, Steve doubled his attempts to break himself free as he realized what Aztechno was going to do next. I have to get out of this grapple, otherwise there's going to be lobotomy all over the ring!

"This is the end. Prepare to be crushed," the mechanized monster repeated as the two began to spiral downwards with his jetpack propelling their descent. "DEAD END DRIVER, INITIATE!"

Oh bugger, this is not good, Steve's world began to spin around violently as he was falling head-first into the ring. I have to break free NOW!

Suddenly, just when it seemed like Steve's last hope had faded, Aztechno suddenly dropped Steve as something had him while in midair and his jetpack went spiraling under control. The Englishman landed in his feet, and after stumbing for a few seconds trying to regain his bearings, he looked up and smiled. Now it was Aztechno that came crashing down to the ring headfirst…and latched onto his legs was a bulky man with long brown hair. Haha…looks like King is finally ready to fight. Steve stretched a bit before resuming a fighting stance. Steven Fox, you're a real piece of motivational work!

"…stay out of this, fleshling formerly known as King," Aztechno got back up and rubbed the back of his head as his gaze turned to the Mexican, who was dusting himself off. "You have lost your mask: you are bound by your code not to fight again."

"It is true, I cannot fight as a luchadore without my sacred mask," King walked over to Steve's side and assumed a fighting stance. "But even if I am not a King, I am still a man, and as such, I must fight to regain my pride!"

"…you have broken our wager, ShinkenBlue," Aztechno turned to Steve and pointed an accusing finger. "The mask is now forfeit, and you must come with-"

"Uh-uh-uh," Steve wagged his finger in response. "I never called for help nor asked for it: he just barged in on his own accord. Therefore, the wager still stands."

"…very well. He is but a normal fleshling now: his Jaguarandi mask is gone."

"The strength of a King lies not a mask, fiend," King dashed at Aztechno with a full run with such speed that Aztechno didn't have time to react. "The power of a King lies in the heart! A monster like you can never grasp that!" Grabbing onto Aztechno's head just as he reached him, King used the running momentum to ram his knee into the machine-man's face and send him crashing to the ground. Not stopping the assault, King leapt high into the air with his ki flashing across his body and sent Aztechno right back down just as he got up with a double-fisted hammer: the Kings' trademark Capital Punishment technique.

Aztecho let out exhaust (which was his way of grunting in pain) as he got back up, narrowly dodging King's elbow. Ducking down and grabbing King's legs, Aztechno swung him around and around until finally letting go and sending the Mexican flying out of the ring. However, King grabbed onto one of the ropes and used his momentum to his advantage once again, turning around and flying right back into Aztechno with a Tiger Feint Kick.

Aztechno stumbled and let off more exhaust as he walked right into Steve, who pummeled his midsection with a series of quick punches that he was unable to hold back. Clearly Aztechno had underestimated both of them: he was not expecting King to come back after losing his mask. After a little over a dozen jabs, he was sent straight up into the sky with a powerful uppercut. "This is impossible," Aztechno's jetpack righted himself in midair and he looked down upon his two foes. "I am Aztechno the Lucha Machine. I cannot be defeated so easily."

"You are right," King reared back and jumped high into the air using his ki to power his muscles in order to catch Aztechno and drag him back down to ground. "It is not an easy task defeating you…but it can still be done!" Pulling Aztechno down, King positioned himself so that his feet were on top of the Lucha Machine's back. Leaping off the back, King landed on the mat while propelling Aztecho downwards…right into Steve's crackling hands.

"Say goodnight, Aztechno," Steve reared back with his ki fully charged as Aztechno came his way. "HELLFIRE VERTICAL!"

With a powerful uppercut that made a loud cracking sound when it connected, Steve sent Aztechno right back up into the air, and he crashed through the roof while shooting fire out of his jetpack. As he crashed through, his body burst into a fiery plume with a mechanical screech. "And so another one bites the dust," Steve dusted off his hands as he took a deep breath. "Good teamwork there, chum."

King nodded his head in acknowledgement as he picked up his mask that was left on one of the turnbuckles and looked at it long and hard. "Today I almost lost everything I held dear," King said out loud to no one in particular. "I have dedicated my life to this mask, and when I lost it, I became but a shadow of a man…it wonder if I am still worthy to wear it."

"Well, let me ask you something, my friend," Steve walked over to the wrestler and placed his gloved hand on his shoulder. "Where does a spirit of a King truly lie: does it lie in the mask, or does it lie in its bearer?"

"…not too long ago, I might have said the mask," King smiled as he put the jaguar mask back on his head. "Your words cleanse my spirit...I thank you."