Be careful, Juri.

The words still echoed in her mind and when she closed her eyes, she could see the subtle horror in Ken's face as he had said those words to her. She had heard the gunshot. And he had seen something that disturbed him. Its looming ghost was haunting him, but he had taken the time to worry about her instead. No one had worried about her before.

Be careful, Juri.

There it was again, ringing in her mind, drowning out the roaring of her bike as she raced down the street at a safe distance from a convoy. And there came the discomfort of such positive affirmation. It wasn't meant for someone like Juri. It didn't feel right to get it. It sounded wrong to her ears like a slur had been spoken at her.

She wasn't offended as much as she was put off by Ken's consideration. A little disbelieving. Maybe a little sickened at the fact that she even had limits to such basic, decent behavior which she ought to remind him of. It should be packaged with a reminder that whatever happened, whichever way this experiment of hers went, they were not friends. They would never be friends. Friends were a weakness. In the end, the only person worth trusting was oneself.

And sometimes, Juri couldn't even do that.

The convoy drove through the city until the truck and one van split from the other. After a quick decision, Juri followed the singular vehicle until it drove down into the parking garage adjacent to a massively tall hotel building, that looked the type of place people stayed at if they had more money than sense. Juri parked the motorcycle within walking distance of the hotel and skipped across the street, through its entrance.

Inside, she was not surprised to find the interior fancy. Juri never quite cared for such finer things for the simple fact that she often felt like she wasn't meant to be in such a place at all. The lobby stood empty except for the exhausted receptionist, nose-deep in a magazine. There was still some time left before Dug would emerge from the parking lot, Juri concluded – she hoped.

To keep herself on guard, she rested against a nearby wall that provided her with a view of the three elevators in the lobby. Finally, there were signs of life as the third elevator's door opened and the elusive Dug stepped out. His fur coat was a little damp from the rain, but it didn't deter him much as he fluffed it. In regard to his perceived power, Juri had to admit that she was a little disappointed with how underwhelming and weak he looked.

But appearances could be deceiving.

She had no plan going in, but her best shot was to get his attention. Like a sly kitten, Juri walked towards the receptionist and leaned over the counter, catching a glimpse of the trashy gossip magazine on the desk.

"So, what's the price per night for this place? How many gold teeth is it worth?"

The receptionist jittered as she looked up, a frown resting on her middle-aged face. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, it's called a joke," Juri's lips curled into a smile at the receptionist souring.

"Ma'am, I want you to know that if you don't stop interrupting my work, I will call security," she closed her magazine as if hide that she was doing nothing at all.

"Now, hold up. No need for that," a man's voice stepped closer to the women and Juri could see the elusive Dug from the corner of her eye walking towards them with his hands raised. He stopped by the counter and let his sleazy eyes run up and down across Juri's body. "My, aren't you a pretty little thing?"

"Thank you," Juri answered convincingly enough to sound sincere, yet peppered with nuance to let some sarcasm seep through. She paused for a moment and saw that the sardonicism had completely flown over Dug's head. "I take pride in all my assets."

"I bet you do," a greasy chuckle came from him, almost dripping with oily lust. "How about I take you upstairs and you can see what this humble establishment has to offer?"

He offered his arm, and she took it, casting a triumphant stare at the receptionist as they walked to the elevator which took them to the hotel's top floor. Probably the VIP section as the rooms here were more extravagant penthouses. Ridiculous. Still, Juri pretended to be mildly in awe as she stepped into the common room and peered through the massive window with a view over the city skyline. Distorted specks of light glistened in the reflection of a nearby swimming pool currently being rained on.

Dug headed for the minibar and poured two glasses of something or another, one of which he handed to Juri. He had been so kind to provide her with ice cubes in her drinks, but she had seen enough fucked up shit to catch that the drink was spiked. The foggy appearance and ice cubs sinking to the bottom of the glass were bad signs for anyone paying attention. Dug's drink was devoid of such misgivings, and he drank liberally like it was going out of style. Thankfully, there was a potted plant near the minibar into which Juri discreetly disposed sips of her drink.

"So, pretty lady. What's your name?" Dug asked, his speech a tiny notch slurred. His gaze was unfocused or maybe Juri preferred that conclusion over that of shameless sleaze.

"Juri. And you must Dug, yes?"

"How did you know?"

She put her glass down, walking closer with calculated steps. The distance that shrunk between them had some sort of effect on Dug. His thrapple moved in rhythm with a hard swallow, his eyes widened a bit, his wet tongue flicked his lips like a hungry dog.

It brought some strange, unintentional memories floating to Juri's mind and it occurred to her that she had been playing this role, the easy seductress, so many times before that she lost count. Numerous men, old, young, fit, misshapen, handsome, unattractive. They had all stared at her the same way that Dug did. They all shared that same primal look.

It was a surreal realization.

They would all go broken to bed without their desires satiated though. Dead or wishing for death.

"I've heard great things about you. Wanted to see if you were the real deal," sly as she could be, she took another few steps closer, then reached for the zipper of her leather jacket and ever so slowly revealed the tank top underneath – and her cleavage.

So far so good, judging from the way Dug's breath faltered. She took her time with the zipper until she could shrug the jacket off and toss it to a nearby fur rug. Dug couldn't contain himself any longer. He slithered even closer to her, his eyes resting on her chest.

She could almost see the twitches in his fingers like they were possessed with the urge to touch her skin and tear the rest of her clothes off. So much for feigning decorum. He practically salivated when he lifted his head to address her and not her breasts.

"I can show you that I am in so many ways."

"Really?" Juri grabbed him by the collar of his shit and pulled him close until she could count the hairs on his eyelashes. His breath fell from his mouth in deep huffs of hot air that reeked of brand-name champagne. "Answer this; what do you know of a certain terrorist bomb plot in Nayshall?"

"That's not important, baby," the lustful smile on Dug's face faltered a bit, waning in its confidence.

In the blink of an eye, Juri lifted her fist and struck him square in the face, her hand colliding with his nose until it cracked under the impact. His teeth scraped against her knuckles, stinging and scratching. When she looked at her fingers, she saw fine red lines across the skin under spittle of blood.

"Yeah, well I think it is, baby," she dropped him to the floor, pressing the heel of her foot against his crotch before he was even aware of it. "I don't give a shit about who did it or why but I know someone who does. So, are you going to give me answers or should I snap all of your bones first? Let's see what breaks the hardest. You or your pelvic bone."

She dug her heel harder into his groin, feeling the familiar round shape of a man's genitals pressed against the underside of her shoe. It wasn't the first time she had done this; she recalled how shocked she was by the sensation when she did this for the first time. It was like those soft, squishy balls people used for stress relief. Back then, it had amused her.

Now it was just routine.

When she lifted her foot, Dug squirmed and tried to scurry away but a prompt kick to his testicles stunned him with a jolt of pain that visibly shot through his entire body. Juri remembered hearing somewhere that people could die from getting their balls busted.

What a wonder if tonight would end like that.

"Nowhere to run, loser," she chuckled, digging her heel right into the tender spot of the man's genitals, applying pressure bit by bit in conjunction with the twisting grimace on his face. His eyes flew open, staring at the glow from the overhead lamps. His hands reached out to wrap around her ankle and she would have him know that she'd break those afterward if he didn't speak up – but alas, he did.

"Philippe! He-he owns a circus! R&B Circus! He's the one who transports the smuggled goods to the markets!"

"And you were making sure that it got transported from the harbor, how cute," Juri's lips curled into a smile. Not at the intel she was getting; she didn't care. She did care about the softness under the sole of her foot as she dug harder. "Now, don't you tell on me or I will find you and I will break the rest of you."

It wouldn't matter if he did. She'd welcome the intrusion.

A sound from the elevator shifted the mood of the penthouse, then footsteps quickened to the scene and before Juri could gather her bearings, she had turned around to stare at the wild eyes of a barrel-chested thug with a mustache. His gaze was unfocused, like he had been drinking or snorting – or both. His eyes somehow stretched wider with fury and five words flew out of his mouth with a waterfall of spit.

"What the fuck?! You bitch!" he came charging like a bull.

He was slow and Juri could use this to her advantage, sidestepping the thug and landing a roundhouse kick to his ribs. Much to her surprise – and delight, he hardly buckled. Much to her dismay though, he clasped a hand around her ankle like an overgrown beartrap. He was a powerhouse, his grip revealed that much. How he put her on the floor was a testament to that strength. Through the power of steroids and protein shakes, the thug lifted Juri, swung her in the air like a club, and hurled her whole body against the floor.

It happened fast, it happened hard, and it knocked the wind right out of her. The impact forced a breathless voice from her. Her eyes flew wide open, and she stared upwards at the overhead lamps glaring down at her. Then he slammed her down to the floor again and the air in her lungs was pushed out in a merciless puff. It was a moment's peace before the thug lifted her again and this time, she responded by kicking him in the eye before he could toss her like a rag doll. Juri dropped the floor and took advantage of the thug's staggering while he cried and groaned in boorish wails.

Juri could do one of two things. One was to leave. The other was to break this man. When he looked at her again, his eye was swollen shut with blood streaking down his cheek. Some nostalgic schadenfreude filled Juri at the sight. She wished she could have returned the favor to Bison. Of what remained of the thug's sight, he glared death and murder at her before he reached for a nearby bottle and flung it at her. She ducked as the glass flew above her head and split into shards and alcohol against the wall.

A distraction it was, as the thug came charging at her again. He lurched at her like a rocket that flew a little too slow for comfort and tried tackling her to the ground. Juri was slippery, stepping back ever so slightly until she spotted Dug crawling away like a worm.

In a lightning-quick move, she slithered towards him and jumped out of the way when the thug tried to body her. He landed on the man with a sound thud, but it didn't last long as he launched his massive, terrible flesh at her yet again like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

This offensive had a difference to it; the addition of Dug now staring at Juri with unrestrained indignation. In his hand was the remains of a bottle. Finally, Juri thought with a smile. Finally. The night then became a blur when the Feng Shui Engine awakened, so much so that when Juri regained herself, she stood over the unconscious bodies of two men a whole head or more taller than her, bloodied and bruised. Her body ached and she couldn't pinpoint its source, but she wasn't in the mood to look for it either, staggering to the elevator while the edges of daylight began to crawl across the twilight sky.


In the early hours of the morning, Juri returned to Ken's mancave, her body growing heavy with lack of rest, still throbbing with pain. She tried the door handle, not surprised to find it locked, then knocked on the door with loud pounding until the lock clicked and the door opened. Ken stood and stared wide-eyed at her. There were bags under his eyes, and he looked a shade paler than normal. He blinked rapidly and yet kept his eyes glued to her like an overbearing parent while she limped into the abode.

Instead of a hi, a good morning, or anything socially acceptable, Juri greeted him with her honest opinion.

"You still look like shit."

Be. Careful. Juri.

Those words of his echoed back to her at the sight of his stupid face.

"It's been a sleepless night," Ken let out a deep breath. His lips twitched upwards a notch, probably happy to see her alive. Not well. Just alive. Wellness could be worked on later, she supposed.

Be. Careful.

"I got your info," Juri announced as she made her way to the table and sat down, lazily scribbling names and hoping it was halfway legible. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Ken tentatively walking to her, his gaze fixed on her over the paper.

"Thank you," he said, genuinely. Calm. Actually, the calmest she had seen him since this stint.

Careful.

Putting the note on the pinboard, Ken stepped back to admire his growing conspiracy – she assumed. She hadn't noticed it before but when she examined the board, she took note of the news articles, both old and new, the mugshots, and the red string that was probably meant to connect them all.

Momentarily, involuntarily, Juri closed her eyes but didn't account for the fact that her body would take it as a sign of rest. The world felt like it was moving too fast for a second to the point where she almost felt sick. When her eyes opened, she came to find that she wasn't laying down on the floor. She was still standing and as she looked upwards, she came to understand why.

Ken held her by the arm. His grip was like a vice, hard and unrelenting. Briefly Juri's mind settled for remnants of M. Bison. Compared to him, Ken was less bulky but they both had that same firm grip. Tight for different reasons. Still, Juri's body gave out. Felt it being pulled upright into Ken's warm chest. Felt the ghost of his faint breathing against her skin with how close he was.

For whatever reason, Juri just assumed he would be cold to the touch. A man who lost the warmth in his life should feel like ice. Instead, he was warm, warm enough to make Juri think holding a hand really close to an active stove. Like something inside of him was radiating warmth. If she cut him open, would he be like a cast iron?

"You look busted. You okay?" he asked while he was dragging her to the couch.

"Huh? Fuck you, I'm fine..." the words didn't have as much bite as she'd like but her point was made loud and clear with the huff that came from Ken.

"Okay," he answered in an exacerbated sigh that hardly matched his gentleness in easing Juri onto the couch. It was the soft surface that pushed her usual alertness into a state of much-needed rest as the world went mercifully black.


Juri reawoke exactly where she was left. On the couch but with the addition of being disoriented and slightly sick from exhaustion and pain. And a blanket pulled over her. Ken was nowhere to be seen, so a musing silence filled the entire abode. The common room was pitch-black except for streaks of sharp orange that slipped through a crack in the curtains, casting light right above the couch. Juri couldn't tell if it were streetlights or the afternoon sun.

Gingerly, she rolled to the edge of the couch and tried to swing her legs onto the floor. She didn't try to stand up, she just sat there and waited for her senses to come back. The orange glow hit her shoulder and she became certain that it was the afternoon sun. Slowly, she wriggled herself out of the jacket, then shirt, then pants. Until she sat in her underwear.

The glow into the common was brought enough to illuminate a dark smear across her thigh and her mind assumed it was blood. Rubbing at it, Juri realized it was a furiously bad bruise. Now where in the hell did she get that one? Too fresh to be from the incident in the warehouse, too old to be from the hotel raid. Maybe from the bar brawl.

Probably when she used the Feng Shui Engine.

Her prized trump card was making each battle bit of a gamble. Unlike the one stolen by Bison, the current model took a stronger hold on her mind and a more brutal toll on her body. She never had much of a problem with it as long as it helped her get shit done. It was just that the timing was precarious. It ran out faster. Such thoughts never crossed Juri's mind before as she had used the device like it was a fifth limb.

Juri rubbed her shoulder, feeling the fading warmth of the sunlight across her skin, and winced at whatever was hurting there. At one point in her life, she came to realize that she may have found herself in an ouroboros. Hurting others, getting hurt. Spill blood, get blood spilled. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. For a while, it had made her happy.

It filled her with something, a hormone, a dopamine rush, a kick like a drug. It prevented her from feeling on the inside so she could focus on the corporal. What went on inside was, well, it was a minefield. It helped that she always had a goal in mind. Kill M. Bison. Revenge against Bison. It all came down to Bison.

Bison.

Bison…

Bison was dead.

So now what? What about the gloomy haze?

Juri didn't have an answer for that and she sure as hell wasn't going to waste brain power in trying to answer it. She kicked the bundle of clothes at her feet and lay down on the couch again with a groan, pulling her knees to her chest.

She didn't bother with getting under the blanket again, she just lay there in a ball and listened to the silence. To the drum of her pulse. To the bustling but distant life of Metro City. To her body throbbing with aches.

When Juri concluded that there was nothing left for her, she let herself close her eyes and surrender to the darkness.