Chapter 17: Get Rich or Die Trying

And so it was that the roster of the Northern Kingdom's 16th annual National Budokai was decided. Each contestant had fought gallantly to work his way up the pecking order, some more so than others.

"Sports fans!" Mr. Akira blazed, addressing the people in the stands, "Are you ready for the hoe-down of the century!?!" His response was typical. The real martial arts enthusiasts went nuts and the Satan fans were just plain nuts!

Taking this as his queue, Mr. Firecracker decidedly to took the ball and ran with it. "Than you've come to the right place because the quarterfinals of the North Kingdom's National Budokai are about to begin!"

"Thanks Jody! Before we begin however, let's give a big hand to both our current Tenkaichi Budokai Champ, Mr. Satan and\as well as Mr. Siks of the Ironman Bauxite Cooperation for their tireless work in promoting this event!"

There was no shortage of applause from those in the stands. Mr. Akira for his part couldn't help but grimace at the giant Ironman Corp logo painted onto the skybox overlooking the field. Silently, he wondered if there were others in the vicinity who felt the same.

"Hard Copper retains his title through carnage and that slime-ball Siks stands to make a killing off the proceeds…"

Thinking back on last years' Nationals, the blonde announcer inwardly cringed. He was so preoccupied on this tangent, he failed to notice his colleague Mr. Firecracker approaching from behind.

"Alfred, something bothering you?"

Looking back at the dark-haired man, Mr. Akira gave a deep shrug. "Just thinking about the old days…back when Goku and Tien ruled the roost."

"You knew Goku right?" asked Mr. Satan's longtime sidekick.

"Hmm…," nodded Akira. "He redefined the boundary between the impossible and the possible. He was an old friend of mine. When I heard from Yamucha that Goku had recently passed away, it sort of struck a soft spot. I wanted to go to his funeral, but his wife forbade it for whatever reason. Goku-san would never have stood for the corporate takeover of the Martial Arts Society!"

"Well you shouldn't dwell on it too much!" warned Mr. Firecracker. "It was your staunch opposition to some of the Martial Arts Society's reforms that cost you your seniority at last year's Tenkaichi Tournament! Be grateful that I kept you out of the meat grinder!"

"To tell you the truth Jody," began Mr. Akira, "I'm sort of happy now. I've been an announcer at tournaments like this for decades and my experience has given me a vibe. I don't know why but I sense brighter days ahead for the martial arts world."

"It's that Yeung kid isn't it?"

"Mmmhmm," nodded announcer Akira, "But it's not just him. There are several really good fighters that have emerged in the past couple of years. They are leagues ahead of what I've seen since Son Goku and his affiliates retired from sports martial arts! Tien Shinhan coming back alone was an eyebrow raiser."

Upon hearing the name of Mr. Shinhan, Jody crossed his arms with a 'huff'. "I don't really know much about Tien besides the fact that like Son Goku, he used special effects to put on a show for latter day fanfare."

"You've just never seen what he can do," explained Mr. Akira matter-a-factly. "His skills as a former world champion are legendary!"

"However, this Tien Shinhan guy can't possibly measure up to Mr. Satan!" huffed Mr. Firecracker. "This Tien might have been good in his time, but I've seen first-hand what Mr. Satan is capable of!"

"Would you like to make a wager on it?" Mr. Akira goaded.

Grinning from ear to ear, Jody Firecracker chided boastfully, "Stop the presses! Alfred Akira's setting himself up to lose!"

Announcer Akira laughed assuredly at his colleague. "No seriously! I'll bet 1500 zeni that should Tien Shinhan and Hercule Satan meet in the final round, Tien Shinhan will glass him!"

"Agreed!" The two announcers shook on it, finalizing the deal. Little did they realize that the whole stadium was glaring daggers at them for holding up tournament proceedings.

"Ahem…"

Turning around, the two co announcers found the president of the Martial Arts Society with his arms crossed tapping his right foot impatiently.

"Uh….," began Mr. Akira.

"I-I guess we better get back to work," sputtered Mr. Firecracker nervously.

"Errr…, moving right along, we will now set the stage for the first round of the quarterfinals!"

"Mmmhmm," nodded announcer Jody Firecracker, "And I must say Mr. Akira, this first match is a humdinger, for in our opening bout we have the teen terror Rolo Yeung vs. the mysterious contestant Rat the Iron Bullet!"

"As many of you are probably aware, the promise of fast wealth has graced many tournaments with the ever-growing problem of cheating!" explained Mr. Firecracker.

"In light of this, special regulatory proceedings have been enacted across the board," finished the second announcer, "For one, all participants will be checked for weapons before each individual match!"

Yeung and his opponent Rat approached a pair of tournament officials dressed in orange monk attire. The two fighters withstood a battery of examinations that entailed pockets, if any were present, brief pat-downs, and orifices.

As this was happening, Rat cast a sadistic sneer longingly Yeung's way as if the boy were a piece of meat.

'This is it!' said Rat to himself. 'Time to kill this little fucker and cement my title as the greatest assassin of all time!'

When the examinations were through, the two competitors straightened themselves up and entered the ring.

Sure-heartedly, the pair swaggered onto the platform and settled into a standoff at the center of the floor. Rat's laugh drawled heavily on Yeung's nerves.

"What is your deal?" asked a very annoyed Yeung.

Smiling in an ever-so-vile manner, the Buddhist monk-looking man replied snidely, "We've been watching you for a long time boy."

"I don't understand," said Yeung puzzled.

"You don't have to," the older male quipped, "All you need to know is that the Yakuza wants you bumped off and I'm just the man to do it!"

Taken back by this revelation, Yeung stepped away from his competitor. "All this over dead ninjas!"

A wry smile found it's way onto the sinister hit man's face. "Oh…, don't get me wrong! I have my own reasons for wanting to kill you. With your death, I will finally usurp Toa Pai-Pai as the world's greatest assassin!"

"The two fighters may begin!"

"You really shouldn't count your chickens before they're hatched," Yeung chided warningly.

"Oh, don't worry!" Rat arrogantly replied. "They're hatched! Here! Let me end this quick!"

Without another word, the Yakuza killer reached out and rested his palm on Yeung's left shoulder. Much to Yeung's immediate surprise, nothing happened.

"My word…," began Mr. Firecracker adjusting his glasses, "Contestant Rat has just placed his hand on Contestant Yeung's shoulder! What could this mean?!"

"This….is it!?" asked Yeung disbelievingly, "This is what you call "ending it quick!?"" Yeung simply stood there and laughed in his adversary's face. "Dude! Tell whoever hired you that they better get their money back!"

Yeung's smile soon became a visage of terror as viola and behold, Rat's limp palm melted through his left shoulder like some gaseous specter gliding through a wall. Bones and sinew alike parted to accommodate the sinister assassin's grizzly technique.

Yeung had little time to bat his opponent away before the whole of his shoulder was turned into a meaty paste. Blood poured like a geyser from the homunculus-esque wound. Left arm dangling by a flap of hide, Yeung tried vainly to slow the blood loss.

"O-oh no!!" stammered announcer Akira, "Contestant Yeung's shoulder is ruined! We may have to stop the fight!"

Outside the ring, Toa Pai-Pai was pitching a royal, duck fit….

"Damned that dirty Rat!" cursed the cyborg assassin, "He's as insolent as ever!"

"You know that man?" asked Master Roshi.

"Hmm..," nodded Toa. "In my last few years working for the Yakuza, that little crap sack was always trying to up me! He saw me as little more than a glass ceiling for him to surpass! If only I had warned Yeung!"

"You had the whole semifinals to warn him!" snapped Fein.

"You are his master!" added the old Kamesinnin. You had to have looked at the tournament contestant directory too."

"Err…uhh, to be completely honest," began Toa embarrassed, "I only looked at it once…. Eight months ago."

"Ohhhh….nooo…" quivered Fein.

Back in the ring, Yeung was left with a daunting injury. Blood and lymph stained his Crane Dojo uniform as it pooled on the concrete platform. His opponent Rat looked on as if he were a cobra waiting for it's venom to take effect.

"Hmm…, so how did you like my Tazanchi Water-breaking Palm? Now all I have to do is wait for the blood loss to take effect and then it's show time."

"Hsss…, That's a new one on me," Yeung remarked, flakes of blood slurring his speech. "I-I have a secret technique too."

At this, Rat could only raise an eyebrow. "Ohh!? Are you sure that you can use it with only one arm? I was hoping that you would withdraw so I could add my tournament winnings to those I'd receive for killing you."

"Well, sorry to disappoint," said the boy. "Here is my technique."

Without another word, Yeung pointed his right index finger at his opponent. A golden ember began to radiate from his right arm as latent power coalesced onto a single point. When the attack finally reached critical mass, the boy let fly with the Crane Dojo's signature move…

"DODONPA!!!"

As if out of nowhere, Rat the Iron Bullet found himself turned a summer set by the power of a fully charged Dodonpa wave. The beam tore through it's target with such force that the Yakuza hit man was bowled over. Upon hitting the tiling, Rat bounced with a wet "Squirlch!"

Dazed and confused, Rat gripped fitfully at his own, now ruined shoulder.

"What the?!" exclaimed announcer Mr. Firecracker. "Ladies and gentlemen! I have no idea what Contestant Yeung just did!"

"I do!" blared announcer Mr. Akira, "Everyone! Contestant Yeung has just deployed the Crane Dojo's signature technique: the dreaded Dodonpa!"

"An eye for and eye…," began Yeung.

Coming back to the here and now, Rat could only finish, "And a tooth for a tooth!"

Smiling widely, Rat brought himself back up to par with his opponent. "This wouldn't be fun if it were too easy! I'd almost feel guilty accepting the Mob's money if you had just keeled over on the spot! I see now that I will have to fight you seriously!"

"Wait! Hold that thought!" Yeung signaled the announcers for a break in the action.

"Everyone!" started Mr. Akira, "The representative from the Crane Dojo has just called for a time out!"

Yeung then turned his attention to Tien. "Hey Tien! Toss me two sensu!"

Tien smirked at his charge. "I get it!"

The triclops flung a pair of the magical healing herbs into the central ring. Yeung promptly downed one. Within moments, that same old uplifting sensation spread from his gut all the way to the tips of his toes. To top it all off, his bloody, pasted shoulder patched itself together.

"Everybody! I can't believe what I'm seeing! Contestant Yeung's wounds just closed up as if they never were!"

This was not lost on his opposition, who started to back away. It was then that Yeung tossed the remaining sensu to him.

"Huh?!" Rat eyed the suspicious little vegetable cautiously.

"Eat it," Yeung commanded. "You'll get the idea!"

Hesitantly, the killer slipped the rock-hard bean into his mouth and swallowed. It wasn't long before what had happened with Yeung had been repeated with Rat.

Shocked beyond all reason, Rat the Iron Bullet found himself double-checking his own shoulder wound as if what had occurred really were a dream. Rat then began to follow a train of thought…

"I see…," the Imposter monk said smiling devilishly, "So this is your secret?!"

"Say what?" Upon seeing his opponent's demeanor change yet again, Yeung began to worry.

"Your full of surprises aren't you?! I now know why it was that you were able to badger the Yakuza in Gingertown so well."

"Uhhh…" Sweat dropping, Yeung arched an eyebrow at his opposition.

"You couldn't possibly have lasted as long against the Mob without those beans!"

"Believe what you want to," said Yeung.

Rat laughed heartily at his charge. "OH, I will!" shouted the hit man. "In fact, I'm willing to bet that you're nothing without those beans!"

"Come and find out for yourself!"

That one goading was all it took to send assassin Rat on the warpath. Running towards Yeung, the man hurled himself headfirst at the boy like a missile. Straightening his body to the tightest rigidity possible, the assassin attempted to smash into Yeung like a battering ram.

Yeung jerked out of the way as Rat's bald cap grazed his torso at near supersonic speed. His opponent continued on his present trajectory until skidding to a stop at the furthest corner of the ring. The tiled floor behind the hit man smoked as a result of carpet burn from his taxiing.

As a result of friction from the near miss, the section of Yeung's torso that got sideswiped spontaneously burst into flames. The young fighter soon found himself patting out his own roasting flesh.

"What vileness!?" screeched announcer Jody Firecracker. "We're sure that the fighters were thoroughly checked for weapons! How can they be doing what they're doing?! It boggles the mind!"

Getting up, Rat the Iron Bullet turned to admire his handy-work. "I feel for you! Getting sideswiped by my Tezanchi Mongul Cannon Assault is like having a phosphorous grenade go off in your hand! It would have been less painful had you just let me kill you right then and there!"

Paying little heed to his opponent's taunts, Yeung continued to fight the spreading of the flames, lest they consume his whole body.

"HAHAHAHA!" the killer chortled, "It matters not what you do! You're going to slowly burn to death!"

Fear of death broiling over, Yeung's body found itself unhinged from the mind. Instinct became the only fallback. His body took on a demonic red ember as the muscles in his torso began to shift violently around his now cooking wound. Finally, the entire affected area was rejected in one ghastly expulsion, courtesy of the 'floodrush' technique.

There were screams in the stands at the gruesome sight that beheld them. In front of Yeung's body, a blackish, gooey meat-wade lay on the ring floor, a remnant of the rejected, seared flesh. His body racked in agony, Yeung's shoulders stooped. Embedded in his side was a deep sinewy hole.

Looking up at his opponent, Yeung sneered viciously. Taking a moment to spit a bit of blood from between his teeth, the boy again stood tall. "You are deadly…"

Hands on his hips, the assassin Rat smiled with utmost pride. "And you are annoying. It's like having to squash the same cockroach over and over! Really! Why won't you just die already?"

"You realize you stand no chance of winning," said Yeung.

"Strength isn't everything," the bald killer remarked. "I don't need to be as strong. I paid close attention to your prelim matches. You waste your power, you're clumsy, and you are a terrible tactician!"

"Those are fightin words buddy!"

It was then that Yeung zipped out in front of the mob killer and threw an elbow strike at Rat's temple. Rat for his part did something completely unconventional: He blocked it with his cranium!

Jumping back from his opposition, Yeung gasped in shock as he beheld a gruesome discovery.

"My elbow!" Viola and behold, sure enough, the block was a Trojan horse strike that neutralized half of Yeung's attack while damaging his arm.

Rubbing his bald noggin, Rat tossed a shit-eating grin Yeung's way. "Humph! My head is conditioned to withstand an explosion! Face it boy! You're a hammer and I'm anything but a nail!"

Unbeknownst to everyone, Yeung's last attack did some damage.

'This can't go on.' thought Rat. 'That last shot rattled me pretty good! What is this kid?! There's no way I can go head to head with him! I just hope I can land a killing blow soon.'

Outside the ring, Toa Pai-Pai and Master Roshi continued to rabble over the ongoing exchange between Yeung and Rat.

"That Rat..," mussed the old Turtle Hermit, "His entire art is oriented towards killing! His very touch is the essence of bodily destruction…"

Swallowing hard, Mercenary Toa added gruffly, "And what's more! He is able to do this with a style that doesn't even require ki mastery!"

"Yeung is many times more powerful than that Rat, and yet he's still being neutralized!" said Tien.

Just then, a gaggle of reporters and journalists approached the three. Toa Pai-Pai soon found more than a few microphones shoved in his prosthetic face.

"Um…I take it that you are the Mercenary Toa Pai-Pai?" asked one female journalist. "That is, the same one who now presides as Sefu over the Crane Dojo?"

"Uh…I am."

"Then that makes you the one that trained Rolo Yeung?" asked yet another.

"Proudly!"

"Can we have your commentary on the present match?"

Back in the ring, Yeung and Rat found themselves frozen in place by fear of one another's fist. It had only been ten minutes since the beginning of the first quarterfinals match and already blood and lymph painted the concrete floor. Yeung's fist was an unstoppable force, and Rat's fighting form was like that of a fishermen's net. Neither one could move for fear of total destruction.

In the stands, the spectators became restless and began to pelt the field with debris.

It wasn't long before the two combatants entered into another grizzly exchange. Yeung with the Crane Dojo's hard style variation, left Rat reeling back and forth like a human pinball in a tornado, and Rat with his soft style Tazanchi River Fist turned Yeung's body into a fleshy shooting range. Blood geysers opened up all over Yeung's stocky body as Rat's wayward shots found their mark. Likewise, Rat found his bones, cartilage, and sinew cracked, crushed, stabbed, and gauged as Yeung's finger jabs hit home.

It was not that Yeung was unable to see the blows coming. It was simply that he could not completely block those that did hit. Deep cavernous gashes gave his upper body the appearance of some used, autopsy cadaver.

Rat the Iron Bullet, for his credit was not doing any better. Nerve strikes from Yeung left the older man's right leg sealed with crippling paralysis and his acupressure points were puffed up with so much blood and lymph that he could hardly even move. All of his teeth were knocked out, his cheeks were ripped up so much that one could see his now toothless gums, and his left eardrum had ruptured, throwing his balance off.

Again, the two combatants broke off.

"T-this has t-to be the hardest fortune I've ever made…" remarked the bald killer. "Mercenary Toa's training has indeed made you powerful!"

"D-don't sweat it old man!" said Yeung, "I was certain that Hard Copper was to be my only real competition! To think that a monster like you exists!"

"I'm curious as to why you've refrained from once again using that beam attack on me!"

"I'm saving my real power for my battle with Hard Copper," explained the boy.

"Do not dare take me so lightly?!" exclaimed Rat indignantly. "For I have been saving something as well!"

Without another word, Rat's neck musculature started to expand in width and size. Sternocledomastoid stretched and bones popped to accommodate this bizarre transformation. When it was all over, the Yakuza killer looked as if his neck had nearly tripled in length.

Stumbling back, one of the co-announcers struggled to describe what had just taken place. "People! I have no idea what to make of this aberration! Contestant Rat's neck dimensions have increased significantly! What impact will this have on the fight?!"

"Behold my secret form!" Rat declared. "Tazanchi Three-Way Strike!"

"Ah Gross!" screeched Yeung in disgust.

Outside the ring, the other contestants found themselves picking up their jaws. Such was the state of shock and awe Rat's technique elicited. Mr. Satan in particular couldn't believe what he was seeing. The current World Champion staggered away from the ring just a tad faster than the other participants.

"How is it even possible?!" asked Puntar.

"Uhh…freaky!" Spopovitch added.

Back in the ring, the Yakuza killer inched towards Yeung. Blood oozed from battered flesh surrounding the general area of muscle and bone metamorphosis, puddling the tiled platform crimson. Even Yeung, for all his grit, found it hard to stand his ground in the face of this new challenge.

'If I run now, there's no point in my even came here.' Yeung struggled inwardly with himself. In the shadow of any adversity, finding the courage to stand is often a battle in itself.

Back outside the ring…

"Seeing that change in Rat has taken a toll on Yeung's resolve," said Tien. "His spine is beginning to falter!"

"Even a cornered mouse will fight a cat!" Roshi commented.

"Except in this case, that cat happens to be a lion!" Toa corrected.

"Still, I don't see why Yeung is worried," said Fein. "There's been little change in his opponent's battle power."

The Turtle Hermit shot his charge a dirty look. "It's not always a matter of battle power. This changes the whole dimension of the fight!"

It was then that Yeung threw himself yet again into his daunting opponent. The exchange carried on for a number of seconds much like the last two. This time however, Rat swung his now elongated neck and clubbed Yeung right on the noggin.

The youth then found himself dredged straight through the concrete floor. Blood streamed from his facial orifices, telling of a massive internal contusion. Tears of crimson dripped from his eye sockets onto the broken tiling.

At this, the anti-Yeung, Satan fans erupted into spontaneous cheers. Shouts of "Kill that little bastard!" and "Now's your chance Rat!" echoed in the stands. It got so bad in fact, that announcer Mr. Akira couldn't take it anymore.

"Errr….Come on people!" shouted the senior announcer, "For crying out loud! Act like ya'll have some decency!"

"Well boy, it looks like this is it!" drawled the older assassin. "Our battle of the killers is drawing to a close. I prefer to refrain from using this form because it shortens my lifespan. Still, it's potential is evident!"

Yeung for his part could do nothing but lay there convulsing. Lymphatic fluid leaked from his ears and his vision on his left side was going. His right eye gazed up at the Yakuza killer. 'That guy sure likes to talk! Oh God! Doesn't he ever shut up!'

"It's lucky for me that you slipped up when you did boy," mussed Rat. "It will take months of physical rehab to get my neck back to normal, but it's worth it if this is what it takes to finish this!"

Leaning over the downed youth, the Yakuza hit man drew back his head and delivered another ball-and-chain headbutt for good measure. The hit man turned to shoot a dirty look at Mercenary Toa, Master Roshi, and the other contestants congregated outside the ring. With a truly chilling hiss, the bald killer addressed them all.

"Whenever you like, feel free to jump in and save him!" Mr. Satan, Puntar, and some of the other finalists inched back in sheer terror. It was then that announcer Mr. Akira ran into the ring and began yelling frantically.

"Please, STOP!!!" screamed the blond man. "KILLING YOUR OPPONENT IS FORBIDDEN!! QUICK JODY, HELP!!"

Mr. Satan's longtime announcer sidekick Jody Firecracker rushed into the ring accompanied by three stocky tournament hands. The whole lot of them were stopped in their tracks by but a single glare from Yeung's assailant.

Fein made a move to save his former fellow student only to be stopped by a strong hand. Turning, the older black teen found that it was Tien that detained him.

"LET GO OF ME MAN!!" Fein hollered, struggling frantically, "YEUNG NEEDS HELP!!!"

"No, wait! Look!" the triclops commanded.

From the ring floor, Yeung shot to his feet. Grotesque veins popped and an all-too-familiar ethereal red glow washed over his body as his nascent battle power came to the surface. His eyes gleamed with a dim, white ether that sent jets of rectangular parallelism light waves too and far.

Stepping back, the Yakuza assassin nearly shit himself.

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE!!!" The older man made a last ditch go for the youth. Reaching out for Yeung, Rat attempted to take the boy with one final Water-Breaking Palm. However, just before the strike landed, latent instinct kicked in. The shorter Yeung reached out and snared the man's wrists in a vice-like iron grip. Bones cracked and flesh buckled as the boy grinded his larger opponent's forearms to applesauce.

"YOU'RE A MONSTER!!!" screeched the bald killer. He was soon cut off by a near-lethal toe kick that severed his abdominal medial line. The subsequent strike collided with such devastating force that Yeung's toenails went right through his shoe and hacked into Rat's gut like an ax.

Needless to say, Yeung was not finished. In his berserker state, the mad boy struck the bridge of Rat's already crushed nose with a koekowgan(Fist of the Tiger's Mouth) frontal strike. Shaken, Rat stumbled around in a disoriented state, his elongated neck form only exacerbating his balance issue.

What Yeung did next was barbaric on a visceral level. Winding back, Yeung set his opponent up for a skull-shattering robegishi or 'multiway twist.' Bringing his thumb, middle, and forefinger together, the boy concentrated all his power on a fine point in his adversary's skull where the bones of the cranium come together.

A resounding wet 'crick' could be heard as the bones of Rat's skull came apart at the seams. Blood flowed from his eyes like crimson tears reminiscent some ghastly crucifixion scene.

"NO YEUNG!! STOP!!" screamed Toa.

Not hearing his teacher's plea, the young warrior drew back and delivered a powerful, hard right. The ensuing strike broke what was left of Rat's skull. The connective tissue under the face finally gave out and the Yakuza killer's mug flopped limply as he was sent flying from the ring.

"Match over!" screeched announcer Akira.

Yeung fell to the floor from exhaustion. As he was falling, one of the three officials that had entered the ring with Mr. Firecracker, caught him.

Tien followed closely by Toa, Roshi, and Fein, rushed into the ring to help his fallen friend. Upon reaching Yeung, he pushed the tournament official aside and administered him one of only three remaining sensu. Out on the grass however, there was a bit of a wrinkle.

"Uh…Folks, we may have a problem," continued the announcer. Mr. Akira stood over Rat's face with a small mirror to check for breathing. There was none.

"No!" whined Kato, "Senior Yeung's gonna be disqualified!"

"No shit!" Xin remarked.

"Yeung needs our support more than anyone right now," said Gen si. "Let's cheer our Senior on!"

"Yeah!" nodded Den Sum. "We're rootin for ya Yeung!"

Down in the field, the effects of the sensu had taken hold and Yeung was back on his feet. His opponent on the other hand, was being carted off in a body bag.

"You really did it flying off the handle like that!" chided Tien. Yeung jumped to his feet, his body fully recovered. Seeing this, Jody Firecracker and the three other tournament workers in the ring backed away spooked.

"What about my match?" asked Yeung. "What happened?"

"Your opponent is dead!" snapped Tien. "What do you think happened?!"

"Huh?!"

"You didn't know?!" asked Tien disbelievingly.

"I don't remember doing it," replied the boy.

"He must have done it subconsciously," thought Tien. "At any rate, you won the fight. However, you lost the match."

"WHAT!?" Shocked, Yeung sprinted over to where the two announcers and several tournament officials were clustered together.

"What the hell's goin on man?" demanded the youth. As if to answer his question, the eldest of the officials stepped forward.

"Calm down," ordered the man. "We're trying to decide whether or not you can remain on the roster. These are peculiar circumstances."

"Hmmm," began Mr. Akira, "Though you technically killed your opponent, Rat did specifically say during the fight that he was going to do the same to you."

"We will have to commiserate a little longer on what steps we can take to penalize your misconduct," explained still another. "It may have been self defense but the issue is hazy."

"Due to the circumstances however, should you win the tournament or any rounds beyond this one we will be forced to hold your winnings for a probationary period until the matter is resolved in committee."

"Soooo….you'll allow me to finish?" Yeung asked somewhat pleadingly.

"For the time being," said Mr. Akira. "Regardless, be forewarned that if this should happen again, you will likely be disqualified."

"But what if someone else wants to kill me?" asked Yeung annoyed.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Mr. Firecracker said assuredly. "The competent security staff and referees will be there if it comes to that again."

"Why do I not find that comforting?" the youth mumbled.

"Uh…, Mr. Akira, Mr. Firecracker."

The two co announcers turned to Mr. Fei Hong, the presiding president of the Martial Arts Society.

"I believe we have dilly-dallied enough," said the old executive.

"Oh uh, of course!" exclaimed Mr. Akira. "Ladies and Gents! Sorry for the delay. We shall now start the next match of the quarterfinals!"

As if on q, the spectators turned the stands into something just short of a mosh-pit.

"Right Akira!" chimed announcer Firecracker. "As incredible as the last fight was, you are all sure to love what we have in store for this round! Would Mr. Snoozenheimer and 'The Dragon' please present themselves for the frisking?"

A fat drunkard stumbled onto the field in a stupor. His face looked a sickly shade of green and his beer belly strained against a barely visible male girdle. Collapsing to his knees, the man wretched up a putrid puddle of smelly junk that could just as easily turned anyone else who happened to be in the general area green. Cursing, the wasted tub of lard muttered something unintelligible in German.

Coming forward, the tournament official tasked with checking the blubbery German found himself stopped cold. The smell surrounding Snoozenheimer was just as

His opponent on the other hand looked every bit like the trained athletes one came to expect at the competition. 'The Dragon' as he is called was a young Asian male of Tibetan decent who had recently risen to the rank of master.

"As you all know, 'The Dragon' was a strong fighter at last year's competition. Since then, this brash warrior has won numerous tournaments, carving a place for himself as a truly local favorite."

"That's right Jody!" blared announcer Akira, "His opponent on the other hand is a first timer who is renowned for…get this….bar fights! Never in the history of fighting has one man been so stoned when entering a bar knuckle brawl! Let's just hope that his tipsy stumbling doesn't affect his ability to fight!"

"I don't know if you understand Chinese but…I didn't come here to lose!" quipped Dragon.