It was conflicting feelings that numbed Ken's mind when he showed up for work. On one hand, he had lost his one lead. It didn't help that the R&B Circus' ringmaster had up and gone into hiding after the failed mission. Furthermore, he was stuck with Chun-Li and her daughter. It was like a slippery slope before all the others would be back and he'd be met with a shell of his past.

On the other hand, Chun-Li and her daughter. It was like a soothing band-aid on the shambles that was his life. More selfishly, though Chun-Li wasn't involved with law enforcement anymore, but she had connections, resources. Tool to give Ken what he needed – and wanted. Such thoughts were comforting.

The sun was particularly baking today as opposed to the earlier storm which had left the atmosphere humid. The weather sort of just shifted in whatever direction it wanted to. Particularly schizophrenic. It didn't deter his work ethic. It didn't cross his mind twice.

The police cars now surrounding the Eagle Shipping Company sure as hell did.

They had enclosed the entire area during this late morning with officers wandering the halls like specters wanting to make their presence known. Ken watched them putter around, watched as they stalked his coworkers. It struck a weird note with him as they prowled the premises like wolves.

And then he saw it.

The police chief and the leader of the operation was a tall, heavyset, middle-aged police officer with a beard that surrounded his entire jaw and mouth. He had his cronies line up nearby dock workers, then strip search them. From where Ken stood, he watched one cop pull out a little bag of white powder and swing it in front of the shocked face belonging to the newest recruit, Jack.

Faked contraband.

Quietly, Ken neglected to go outside, walking to Simons' empty office. Aware that it was the only available room with a sturdy door and a good lock, Ken used the time to take his phone and dial the first person on his contact list. The knock at the door came after the second ring while he stood behind the desk. His breath hitched at the sound of multiple footsteps and voices gathering right on the other side.

He outright winced at the impact of fists against the doorframe. As soon as Juri picked up, he uttered the words in a mechanical, comprehensible stream. It surprised him at how leveled his voice came out despite the slight sense of panic eroding him.

"There's an illegal police raid happening at work. They're staging possessions of drugs to justify detaining people. They are picking me up too. I suspect I might be going to the jailhouse, but I don't know why."

Juri uttered something or another, but Ken didn't quite catch it as the police chief lost patience and ordered Simons to get his keys out. It was his office after all. And he did, flinging the door open. Hidden behind his shades, Ken couldn't get a good tell of what he was feeling but he didn't particularly care either. Not now when he would have to fight his boss – and Metro City's police force. He hung up in the split second before five or so cops jumped over the table like leaping cheetahs, all in the blink of an eye before impact hit from getting thrown to the floor.

Ken's head collided with a nearby shelf, sending stars into his vision. He worked through the pain with all the strength from Gouken and Ryu embedded into his very essence and tried wrestling himself from the clump of men on top of him. His legs remained trapped, but he had one arm free, raising it to punch the nearest head. The mass wriggled just a bit to give him room for standing up so he crawled out from underneath and just barely got his bearing before a command came hollering from the police chief.

"Taser!" he barked, from the doorway, cowardly prick that he was.

Before Ken could properly get his footing, he felt prongs jammed into his abdomen and seconds later, an electric shock that made him drop onto the floor like a poleaxed mule. Every muscle in his body clenched like the worst Charley horse imaginable. It lasted for a moment, but adrenaline and residue aching pumped through his blood. Dazed, Ken let his arms get wrenched behind his back and handcuffed before that cowardly police chief tased him again.

Ken's senses returned in waves by the time he found himself in the back of a police van, packed together with confused coworkers, situated between confusion and panic. All with a singular question lingering in their minds.

Why?

Unfortunately, Ken didn't have a definitive answer, only half-baked theories. Very much unlike his youth. Back then, when he began dyeing his hair blonde, the inside of a police car or van was a common sight. Back then, he could always explain why he'd sit stuck in a backseat with cuffs around his wrists. Break-ins, petty theft, vandalism, street fighting, shoplifting. Then Gouken happened. And Ryu. Ever since, Ken managed to stay off the police's radar.

Something about the combination of discipline and principles. Duty. Loyalty. Friends. Family. It kept his nose clean. Pulled him towards the life of a good, unassuming citizen. Not the world's biggest surprise that those perks had ended now. Between his life getting ruined and his family living away from him, who was he to call himself a good, unassuming citizen anymore?

The police van drove for a long time, certainly heading in the wrong direction for the police station. The sirens weren't howling so this was a covert operation. For the life of him, Ken couldn't quite grasp where they were going but his stomach bottomed out once the smooth asphalt of Metro City's roads turned to gravel, hitting a bump along the way. A large rock? Somewhere in a wasteland where no one would find the bodies?

Finally, the van came to a stop and the doors to the back were opened. Several cops ushered their arrestees out, lining them up like criminals doomed to the gallows. Surrounded by nothing but forests and endless green fields, stood an old prison building. The perfect spot for an unsolved murder. Ken looked over the green fields and found himself thinking of Juri. Of how on earth, she was going to come out here. If she was going to come for him. Of how long it would take before she found him – or his corpse.

He thought of Eliza and Mel.

He swallowed and was steered inside behind the soft sobs coming from one of the few women at the Eagle Shipping Company.

The prison's interior looked far better than what its outside appearance would suggest. The walls were covered in dust and filth, but they looked newer than the building itself. Due to the time of day, the sun didn't penetrate the windows, casting the halls into a murky dimness. The height of the ceiling stood out as endless in the shadows, especially the gap between the light and the dark with the painted brick walls that separated renovation from original structure.

An old prison alright.

Some place where hardened crooks and innocents were thrown into cells, then gassed dead or put in the electric chair. Then shot dead or worse once the state got rid of the death penalty. Or whatever torture methods, these psychopaths liked to play with.

It would make a good museum, Ken thought just to soothe himself.

The "inmates" were taken to the common hall of the prison. That one place where prisoners would mingle as seen in movies. It was here where Ken was forced to sit down on one of the many benches, surrounded by corrupt cops. Nearby, he could hear the whooping laughter of the ringleaders, and his gut tightened.

The police chief, Phillippe the clown, and someone new. And the tentative responses from Simons as he was getting grilled with questions. The cries for help from Ken's coworkers muted whatever was being asked. It all came to a quiet from heavy boots stepping against the linoleum floor.

Ken's breath hitched as he looked at the feet of the police chief and at the sight of the rotund man staring him down. Edi. E, it read on the nametag embroidered into the shirt of his uniform. The man had mean eyes, and a narrow stare, even under the occasional pink bubble and pop from the gum in his mouth.

"Joseph Gardner?" he asked, his voice as ugly as his stare and his loud chewing.

Ken blinked long and hard. "Yes, sir."

"Really now? You do kind of look familiar to me. But no matter what or who you are, I'll get some information outta you real soon."

Ken kept his mouth shut as he watched the police officer wander around his captives with a gun now resting firmly in his hands. He stopped by one of the dockworkers, Mary, and put the gun to her head. A twisted smile formed over his lips at the soft gasps that came from her.

"See, some of my friends have been attacked by a lady with a glowing eye. At first, I thought it was one of my less-flexible coworkers but none of the bitches I work with got eyes that glow. And according to my buddies, she knew some details, no cop under me would know so quickly. Details pertaining to a certain shipment that came through the Eagle Shipping Company. I find that curious. Almost as if she was told before the shipment came through."

Silence filled the jail with such tension, it was nearly choking. Impatient, Edi clicked his gun, pressing it harder into Mary's skull, moments away from blowing her brains all over the floor.

"She's with me. I'm the one who told her," Ken interjected and looked up at Edi, who stood with surprise on his face. The police chief snapped his fingers and from somewhere, probably right outside this hall, footsteps walked across the floor. Phillippe the clown, sans makeup, Simons, and someone Ken hadn't seen before; a hulking beast of a man with blonde dreadlocks and a wide grin on his face.

"Admitting it, I see. How admirable, mate," the clown snorted with a sneer. Was he even a clown anymore?

"Shut the fuck up, Phillippe. It's your fault we're in this mess. You and that buffoon, Dug," the man with the dreads pushed the clown to the side, ignorant to the scowl he received in return. He made his way to Ken with heavy, booming footsteps. Befitting for his massive frame. "So, Mr. Gardner. Who are you working for?"

"Myself," Ken answered promptly, serious as the situation permitted it. He saw Edi lift the gun and his chest filled with hope. The guy had to be a piece of shit, but he also had cop instincts that lit up like a neon sign. The ability to tell when someone was being honest was a blessed gift.

"Edi?" the man with the dreads asked when Ken didn't go into further elaboration.

"No news on rival gangs but…" the cop's mouth curved into a sneer that reeked of suspicion in a way that continued his statement with yet.

Ken held his gaze. "There is no gang. All I need is answers for me, myself, and I."

"Answers to what?" Dreadlocks asked.

"Nayshall Bombing Plot."

Ken at least seemed to be humored even if none of the ringleaders seemed particularly convinced.

"Why would you be sniffing around Metro City for something that happened on the other side of the planet in some shithole country? What is that incident to you?" Edi lifted his bushy brow in utter disbelief.

Ken rolled his shoulders into a shrug. "The trail led here. I got caught up in it."

"Crikey, caught up?" Phillippe snorted again, throwing the words back at Ken with a mocking echo. The clown wasn't that important so who gave a shit about what he had to say anyway?

"Because of that woman?" Dreadlocks lifted his brow behind the thick pair of shades over his eyes. Ken was able to shake his head with sincerity and without the worry that he had pulled Juri into danger.

"She stuck around for her own reasons."

A sincere laugh came from Dreadlocks. "Maybe she's the head honcho. Gotta be part of something big if she's into smuggling and terrorist operations. Some deep-level mafia shit."

Oh. Ken deflated a bit, his shield of certainty crumbling just a bit. Yes, S.I.N. was gone and so was Shadaloo but who knew what had risen from the ashes. Juri said she didn't answer to anyone, but she had no obligation to tell the truth and Ken had no obligation to believe her. No, Juri was a hard person to answer for.

"Regardless, I'm the one you want so you should let the others go," Ken asserted and looked at Simons. "Including him."

"No. That's not how this works, you little twerp. They are witnesses and they gotta see what happens to anyone who rats us out," Edi spoke up, attracted to the smell of power imbalances. That confirmation annihilated all the vestiges of hope, Ken had. "You call your girl boss here so we can have a real talk, why don't you? Maybe you'll live to see tomorrow."

Maybe as in not likely.

Against the three of them plus half a legion of cops, Juri would be walking straight into her death. To lure her out here would be a lethal misstep and Ken wasn't about to take the bait.

"Fuck you!" he spat with all the vitriol filling his heart. He stood up but there wasn't anywhere he could go. And then there were the handcuffs. Still, he moved about so his coworkers wouldn't get caught up in the inevitable scuffle.

He managed to rush past Axl before Edi punched him square in the jaw, the blow sending him staggering before his legs connected with a nearby bench. His body toppled over and he smacked the side of his head hard against the dirty linoleum floor. It occurred to him that he may, may have fucked up before he even knew it.

But should he have asked Juri to kill then? He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he did. Assuming she'd even survive. It astounded him that he could even think like this while he was being pulled by the roots of his hair, and dragged into a nearby cell on the ground floor by half a dozen cops. He was tossed to his side, nearly colliding with the lavatory but quickly he jumped to his feet. Dreadlocks, Edi, and the clown arrived, drawn by the violence they invited.

They stared at Ken like rabid, hungry animals. They had done this before, using this prison as their personal playground. Having a little fun on the side while they got rid of anyone threatening their revenue stream. Sort of like corrupt businessmen taken to their most extreme. The cell wasn't big to hold the lot of them, but Ken could see himself fighting his way out of here. Without a taser, his chances were increased somewhat.

He hoped.

They tried to attack like the dogs they were but Ken stepped to the side, lifted his leg, and smacked the heel of his boot against the skull of one of the cops, sending the fucker collapsing to the floor. The impact stilled all of them but Ken. Absolute, frozen, slowing down time for him. He went for the metaphorical kill, using his kicks to the best of his ability. The shock passed quickly when he kicked a couple of cops in their ugly mugs.

Without the use of his arms, his balance was hindered but it was due or die with these psychotic assholes. He took a gamble, leaping to the best of his ability, rotating his legs just as he remembered performing the Tatsumaki countless time. On the second or third impact, he had taken down the cops that stood in front of the entrance to the cell, harrowingly avoiding landing on some officer's face.

Out in the open, Ken took a moment to look at the astonishment written on his coworkers' expressions. All collectively in shock. The circle of cops had dissipated, Ken noticed. He snapped his eyes to the exit of the hall and then to the group of innocents staring at him. A moment's hesitation would be the end of them all.

"Run!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, a second away from being tackled to the ground. Under the grunts of Edi's mass pressing down on him, he scantily heard tens of footsteps scurry across the floor with no goons chasing them.

Ken shot his eyes open, staring into the furious glare of a man pinning him to the floor, just long enough to notice a baton being swung above his head and slamming against his temple. Without his arms to brace for protection, the impact made his skull rattle. His eyes squeezed shut and he didn't see the second blow coming, hitting hard against his nose, splattering blood everywhere.

"You little shit-disturber. All for protecting some bitch!" Edi stood up and promptly kicked Ken in his stomach to knock all the air out of him. Still pent up with frustration, he delivered a blow against Ken's back that left him writhing on the floor.

"Simons, I don't recall you saying he was such a troublemaker. Like that fucking prick, the mayor."

There was no response from Simons, not that anyone waited for it. Edi grabbed Ken by his arm and dragged him back to the cell. He tossed the man inside and slammed the door shut, locking the gate. Dreadlocks walked to the closed entrance with a grin on his face and a device in his hands – Ken's phone. He tapped the device and held it in front of his mouth.

Ken's stomach dropped to his knees as the ringing echoed through the hall. On the second ring, someone picked up and Dreadlocks immediately went for the prowl.

"Hello, am I speaking to a Ms. Juri?"

"Uh-huh. What do you want?" she sneered down the phone line.

"You see, we got a friend of yours. A Mr. Joseph Gardner. If you want him back, come by the old penitentiary, and you can pay his bail. I'd advise you to come alone lest we have to kill him in retaliation."

Silence, then a wicked chuckle from Juri. "You gotta give a little more than that. How can I know he's still alive? I'm not wasting money on a corpse."

"Say hi, Joe," Dreadlocks smiled and that could only mean horrible things. He snapped his fingers and Edi unlocked the cell, locking it behind him.

Like a jackrabbit, Ken jolted to his feet and warily stared at the taser in his hands. His footing was unstable from the beating and with his back pressed against a brick wall, he could only close his eyes and mentally brace himself. A second passed, then came the shock that ripped out the sound, the sign of him being alive.

"We played a little rough with him as you can hear. Consider it our traditional hospitality," Dreadlocks said calmly when Ken had stopped screaming.

"Okay," Juri sighed. "Give me to sunset. Gotta scraps the money together for his bail, right?"

A laughing snort was the answer from Dreadlocks. "You do that, sweetheart."

Time passed in a blur while Ken remained in his prison, enduring the occasional beating. It would seem that he had taken the role of an unwilling punching bag when he wasn't gritting his teeth from the ache or listening to inane banter between Edi, Phillippe, and Dreadlocks – whose name was actually Damnd.

They had invited another member to their group, making it a quartet. A man named Serge. He had the air of someone ruthless and unpredictable but wholly uncertain with the way he'd look to Damnd. In fact, all of them would look to Damnd for approval, especially when it came to dealing with Ken.

Evidently, he was the leader of the group.

Most of the cops had left for work or home, okay with what was occurring. One had to wonder if the weight of their actions ever hit them as they lay their heads on their pillows tonight. Wonder if they ever felt soul-crushing remorse for being complicit in illegal arrests, abduction, and assault. Or did they crumple under the knowledge of what they had done as they went home to their loved one? Hell, maybe they were afraid of being on the other side. Maybe they had been dragged into this so often, it was just routine for them.

Better some random dock worker than them, right?

Ken didn't think to ask the ringleaders questions regarding his mission either. He'd get a beating for it if he tried. He'd get a little less if he kept his mouth shut. So, he held his tongue, listening to the silence that loomed under the banter. When they came for another round of the knife game, Ken hardly acknowledged them. Slowly he lifted his head against the glare of a flashlight and several portable lamps. A faint scent of fast food hit his nose from when Serge had left to get food for everyone – except their captive.

It was hard to feel hungry when you could only feel pain.

An ugly chuckle came from Edi. "Well we've been generous to give that lady-friend of yours some extra time but I think she stood you up, Joey. Guess you-"

A sudden sound from somewhere in the prison stilled them. All except Ken. It was possibly just the building settling. He didn't catch the beginning of it anyway. He did however catch the sound of something rolling across the floor. Sunset had long since come and passed– Ken assumed. He listened to the silence dragging on, looking at Damnd listening for sounds of something else moving in the dark. Obviously, this wasn't a common occurrence. These sounds were not normal – whatever they were.

"What's the matter? Afraid of the quiet darkness?" Ken asked, voice shaking, hoarse, loud in case anyone out there might would hear him. "If you make some noise, the silence can't get to you. In fact, you might get to mute the echo of all the awful shit you've done."

Damnd ignored him but looked at one of his underlings, thinking the same thing as Ken. His smile remained but the way it slightly faltered was a sign of his concern. "Serge, go and do some patrolling. I don't want that cunt doing any sneaky shit."

Serge huffed but did as told, vanishing into the darkness with a flashlight. In the meantime, Damnd stepped away and Phillippe took his place, eager to blow off some steam as he had been rebuffed all night. He swept in and grabbed Ken by the collar of his, by the chain around his neck. A smile stretched across the clown's face in the second before he sucker-punched Ken to the back of his skull with a borrowed baton.

Part of the metal collided with Ken's ear, almost making him deaf from the resulting pounding. Phillippe punched him again before he could even begin to register the first blow, then kneed him in the stomach, against his already sore abdomen. It almost turned his gut inside out, but Ken could hardly grasp the damage done to his body upon getting dragged by his hair into a fist against his jaw. When his eyes opened, he saw a hand inches away from his face, considering another punch.

Ken made the decision for him, snapping his mouth open to bite the top of the clown's hand, hard enough to feel the spasms of pain, hard to taste flesh and blood. A feral whine came from Phillippe while he staggered backward. It was a shortly lived triumph, but Ken took that sadistic sense of victory.

Unfortunately, he sat without a plan for escape as one of the few remaining cops stormed to the cell and slammed a baton hard against Ken's ribs. He swallowed his pain and hobbled out of the way, then charged at the cop, his head colliding with his stomach until they both went tumbling out of the cell.

In the confusion, Ken scrambled to his feet, drawn by the adrenaline of having to fight for his life again. He knew it to be a dumb move to struggle back but alone, Juri couldn't handle all of them, certainly not with their batons and tasers. He took one step, then two, until Damnd swept his legs from underneath him and he fell to the floor.

Before he could make his way back up, Damn lifted his boot and curb-stomped him against the floor, making his head ring. Rudely thrown into a haze, he struggled to properly move despite every nerve of his screaming at him to go, go, go! Edi pulled him off the floor and pulled him too close. Too close for Ken not to swing his head back and headbutt the cop in the nose with a satisfying crunch. Edi roared and kicked Ken in the kidney with such force that it forced a cry of shock and pain out of him.

"Serge!" Damnd called put to silence. His smile faltered just a bit more. An admission in itself. He had enough fun and games, either from uncertainty or plain old fear. He grabbed the staggering Ken by the hood of his jacket and threw him against the table, sending food boxes, napkins, and half-eaten cold fried flying everywhere across the floor. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Edi spitting courses and holding his nose gushing blood.

Ken could have smiled but he was aware, too aware, that he had more or less lost. With Phillippe now standing over him on top of Damnd's Massie frame, there was no way he could break free. Those masks of fury guaranteed only one thing; sadistic beating followed by certain death.

Another noise from somewhere caused Phillipe to look up – the only one to do so. Something irked him. Edi with blood all over his face however rested his full attention on Ken, for better or for worse. He stormed over, spat in his face, pulled out a gun from its holster, and pressed it harshly again the man's cheek.

"You lil' bastard! I don't care about that skank of yours. I'm gonna kill you right fucking now! Let's see what she says when she finds your corpse riddled with bullets! And then I'm gonna kill her too!"

You'd be signing your own death warrant, Ken wanted to say. He did in fact say nothing. He smiled instead. A mockery. A warning. It conveyed far more than words could. Almost simultaneously, the faces of the ringleaders twisted, changing from sadistic glee and rage to fear. It lasted for a moment, but it was the sign of victory Ken needed.

And then he heard it.

The sound of an engine racing down the hallway, coming closer, zooming across the linoleum floor, faster, louder-

Until a motorcycle raced past them and did a U-turn at the end of the hall. The ringleaders forgot all about Ken and stopped pinning him. Partly bent over without the arms or strength to keep himself standing, he slid down onto the floor in a puddle of himself, landing on his shoulder in the meantime.

Dull pain shot through the entire half of his body but at this point, he could hardly muster up the power to yelp in discomfort. Somewhere along the line, he must have injured that part. He didn't know how. His head throbbed something fierce like a grape about to burst. His eyes fell to a close as the screaming began. He heard footsteps, multiple of them, conflicts, fighting, voices, his name, the sound of a scuffle. Someone yelling stop.

It all began to fade into a haze.

Someone stood over Ken, speaking to him but he couldn't make out the voice or the words. He felt his body being heaved off the floor and eased onto something, multiple arms and he was moved. His only reaction was a sharp breath through his teeth as someone touched his shoulder. Time stopped moving entirely as he lost all senses of well, everything.

Long into the night, in the back of a vehicle, he became awake. And then he caught the scent of flowers. Hyacinth, roses, and cherry blossoms. Only then did he open his eyes to complete darkness. But he followed the scent, lunging forward for it until his face was pressed against the soft chest of a woman.

Ken could feel Juri jitter, startled by this development even if she sat still. He didn't care. He'd stop if she said stop but she didn't say anything and he didn't stop, hiding his face in her bosom, breathing in the smell of flowers, of survival, of relief. She allowed it if only tentatively. Thankfully, she didn't say a single word, just holding Ken close until the terror and adrenaline had passed his body.

I feel like I should almost dish out a lil' apology for the number of times I brutalize Ken mentally and physically in this.

I shall not.

Because this isn't even half of it. Oh no, no, no.