AN: A little less Juri x Ryu this chapter, though our central characters will be heavily referenced.
I don't own street fighter or any other referenced copyrighted material.
"I think I made the right choice joining downtown drugs, but I'm kinda disappointed we didn't get a bigger fish," noted a plain clothes detective as he walked accompanied by another individual.
The detective was a black man, off bronze in skin tone with a buzz cut and a goatee and noticeable stubble on his face. He wore a grey t-shirt that bore the dark blue insignia of the San Fransico Police Department on the left breast, the shirt tucked into plain blue jeans. He wore running shoes that were colored white with blue stripes and his department issue SIG Sauer was chambered in a holster on his right side. His badge is hung around his neck by a metal lanyard chain, and it swung back and forth as the detective and his companion walked hurriedly down a narrow hall.
"Small fish, huh," replied his companion inquisitively who was dressed the opposite of the detective.
She was dressed more professionally in a navy-blue suit jacket with white pinstripes and matching pants. Under the suit jacket was a sky-blue dress shirt, the top button undone. She too wore a badge but this one was emblazed with the INTERPOL ensign and was tucked into pocket on the left side of jacket. There was a barely noticeable bulge on her right hip, her own holstered handgun. And her outfit was complete by a pair of black dress shoes, the heel slightly raised that made a noticeable clink as continued their way down the hall. She also wore her hair in an ox tail style with unadorned buns held together by white ribbons.
"So, you'd say this op was a waste," continued Chun-li.
"Well yeah," said the detective as he ran a hand down his stubble, "we've got a small amount of narcotics, no leads on any high-level traffickers and this guy's not even a dealer full time. He's part of a crew that jacks luxury cars. Anything he can give us we likely go to auto theft."
Chun-li stops the detective.
"Not quite," she said perceptively, a knowing smile on her face.
"You don't think so," said the detective, somewhat taken a back at Chun-li questioning his take this case.
"Talk about your target, Detective Carver. Let's see where your line of thinking takes us," she said.
The detective returned a tired smile, "You're not just gonna tell me what's on your mind regarding this case?"
She leans back against the wall, still smiling crossing her arms under her chest as she tilted her head at him expectantly.
"Right, right. That'd defeat the purpose of being taken under your wing," said Detective Carver. He released a sign as he started. "Our target is Rich Mccan. Born in the city. Career criminal. He's part of the 'Hole in the Gate Gang', the outfit most known for theft of cars from luxury dealerships."
"Right," went Chun-Li, "but do we have him down for?"
"Distribution of a control substance, to wit two kilos of heroin," said the detective questioningly, unable to see the pieces.
"Come on Joe, you're right on the edge," Chun-li encouraged.
"His gang doesn't usually deal in drugs, but with your friend doing her consultant thing in town the high-end car places don't find themselves being victimized as badly as before." He stopped, then his face lit up as if he had an epiphany. "There's less money to go around so our boy turns to drugs to make his nut!"
"And his gang doesn't have any drug contacts according to our intel, meaning we can possibly roll him up into whoever he got his supply from," finished Chun-li.
"Guy's a cupcake, so they'll be plenty of roll on him. Auto theft still gets their case, and we get ours," said Detective Carver.
"There you go Joe," said Chun-Li, as she playfully slapped his cheek. "You'll make a great investigator one day."
"Yeah, yeah. One day maybe," said Detective Carver.
"Let's go, you've got a report to type up," said Chun-li as she pushed herself from the wall.
"Oh no, I'm sitting in on this one," said Joe.
"You're sure," Chun-li asked, "you're going to be up all night typing that report."
"I'll be fine. Part of learning the ropes," responded the younger detective, "we got a uniform at the interrogation room with our papers and tapes?"
"Sure do," she responded.
Joe Carver was more stout than smart, but that was not to say he was unintelligent.
He recently passed the detective's exam and was assigned to the drug enforcement unit.
He asked specially to work with the INTERPOL officer, which due to the nature of her work the request has practically been granted as she frequently has runs in with the DEU.
Chun-li sees a lot of herself in him. Hungry to bust a case, but that eagerness leaves a less seasoned officer overlooking the details.
She herself was schooled by an elder officer in her early days, her father's old partner Nate Philbin.
Last she heard Nate was working as a PI.
As they approached the interview room where a uniformed officer waited for them, Chun-li placed her hand on the knob, "Follow my lead," she said.
"You got it," responded Joe.
The uniformed officer handed a few envelopes to the pair as they entered the room.
The small-time crook sat at a well-worn table; hand cuffed to it of course.
Rich Mccan was a small slip of a fidgety man, a greasy head of hair and brown beaty eyes that darted back and forth until falling on the officers that just walked in.
"Comfortable," Chun-li asked simply, as she sat opposite of him, getting the files she was just handed in order.
He didn't answer. He sat and stared at the pair. He tried to put on a brave front, but his fidgeting gave away his tension.
"Pretty decent sheet you got here," said Chun-li, "theft, theft," she listed as she went through the assorted files, "grand theft, grand theft auto, and I see we've got 2 warrants in connection with separate grand theft auto cases."
"Not to mention our business here today," interjected Joe.
"Not there was any business to be done," said Chun-li. She then cut her eyes from the paperwork, giving the cuffed man a withering look, "you stumbled your way into a buy-bust."
"Look," said Rich, his voice cracking, "you've got nothing me!"
"Oh," in toned Chun-li in mock surprise, "our boy here's clean. You hear that Detective Carver?"
"So that wasn't you we pulled up on?" asked Joe, playing off of Chun-li, "That wasn't your car and those weren't your two bricks we pulled from the wheel well, by the spare?"
"You tell me," said Rich, managing to keep his voice from cracking but still fidgeting with uneasiness.
"You got it," said Chun-li.
She turned and nodded her head at Joe.
Detective Carver then stuck his head out the door, "The recorder," he asked the uniform.
He pulled himself entirely back into the room, carrying a small device. It resembles a remote, but Chun-li thinks Rich recognizes what it is by the way color drains from his face.
Joe pushes a button, and a rough but understandable recording starts to play.
"You got that for me," said another voice, one of their undercovers asked.
"Yeah," said a second voice this one clearly Rich's, "I've got two bri.." the voice stopped himself, "er cinderblocks," he added as if to correct himself.
"Two kis," said the other voice, the undercover, "and what's your price?"
"$15k a piece," said Rich over the recording, "I'll call you next week with the spot."
"That's not me!" Yelled Rich with widened eyes.
"We pulled that off a wire, on April 3rd. I'd say that voice matches," said Chun-li, "you nearly said 'bricks', as in street slang for kilos but corrected yourself. Coded language can be used to argue conspiracy." She started to look through the papers again. She produces a picture of Rich sitting in a diner on a cell phone looking around nervously. She pushed the picture towards Rich. She pointed to him in the photo, then to the date the picture was taken.
April 3rd.
"The Detective and I were on that surveillance. I took that picture myself," said Chun-li. She went through the papers once more. "And that's your cell phone. We subpoenaed your carrier, and they were nice enough to provide billing information matching your current address," she went placing a copy of his phone bill on the table. She then pulled a cell phone, Rich's cell phone from person (which was in an evidence bag). She pulled the device from its plastic bag and dialed a number on it.
Joe's ringer went off and he pulled his phone from his pocket. He displayed the screen to the room, it shows the same phone number on the bill copy, "Number matches."
"Fuck," Rich muttered lowly as lowered his head in his hands, "Fucking Juri Han," he went as his voice broke once more, "All those dealerships beefed up their security on her goddamn recommendation. The last Audi dealer we tried to hit put up an electric fence. Can believe that!? An electric fence! One of our boys got fried trying to get through. We had to resort to snatching cars off the street, which hit our pockets. I turned to drugs to try make up the difference," He finished as he looked down to the table.
"That's it," said Joe.
"Not quite," said Chun-li, "who did you get the drugs from? We know your boss or any of your compatriots don't deal in drugs, so we know you went outside your crew for this."
"I've got nothing more to say," said Rich.
"Ok, ok," said an agreeable Chun-li, "but think about this. The man you call boss has got to know by now you've been arrested. What's more you've been arrested on drugs in a deal that he didn't know about. How long do you think it will take for him to arrange for someone to get to you in lock up? Make it so you won't see a court? You know, to make up for this little side deal. You tell us who's your supplier is, we will take you somewhere quiet, maybe out in the county. And, for cooperating we get the D.A in here about a lesser sentence. Both the auto warrants and the drug charge."
She packed up the papers and prepared to leave, "Up to you."
Carver and Chun-li both take their leave, but before they cross the door Rich responds, "Some Chinatown boys, probably Triads. They work out of a laundry mat on the south edge of Chinatown, but anyone in the know knows it's a front for a gambling parlor. They fronted me those bricks."
"If you were shown some photo arrays, you think you'd be able to point these guys out," asked Chun-li.
Rich simply nodded.
Chun-li nods, "OK, I'll call the D.A and I'll get writ for you go to county lock up."
They both leave the interrogation room looking to go back the way they came.
"Not bad," said Joe.
"Not bad at all," said Chun-Li, "and for your first case! You were a natural in there!" She praised Joe as she smiled at the young detective.
Cases like this was why Chun-li continues to do what she does.
Roll the small fry into something bigger, though she did feel a little bad she used the implication of death to Rich Mccan as leverage.
She later learned from the D.A the Rich is also willing to give up the 'Hole in the Gate Gang' for an even better deal.
Joe's summation of the man was correct that he was cupcake, a lightweight in the underworld. The criminal knew the risks but still took them when he decided to get into this life.
But they managed to close this case, get a notorious ring of car thieves off the street and lead for the next case.
Chun-li had a report of her own to write. Luckily, she's got an off-site office at her condo (courtesy of INTERPOL) despite having her own desk at the local precinct.
She wants to get it knocked out as soon as possible without being disturbed.
And also…
"Li-Fen," she called to a little girl behind her, as she unlocked her front door, "can you get started on that homework work for me? I'll be in my office, but before that I'll set us up some dinner."
Li-Fen was the daughter of a hacker who themselves in cross hairs of Shadaloo.
During the raid on their headquarters 8 months back she was found to be one the captors of the group, to what end Chun-li didn't know.
Nor her father or mother was among the captors of the main base in Thailand or any of the other bases around the world.
It was assumed they were killed by the group, and despite the resources at their disposal no other family could be found.
She came to Chun-li's attention while escorting Juri out of the base, to the plane that took them to ICJ headquarters.
Chun-li had been a little too eager to get there and had accidentally bumped Juri right into Li-Fen, who was part of a group of prisoners being escorted out.
She'd helped the little up, as she'd been knocked down by Juri.
Li-Fen thanked Chun-li, and complemented her hair.
Such a simple gesture had Chun-li immediately taken with the girl.
When she later found out she pretty much had no family, Chun-li decided to take her into her care.
Li-Fen was currently dressed in her school uniform, a short sleeved white button-up, with a short black tie under a black vest, with a long black dress and dress shoes.
She had a slightly worried look on her face, "When you say, 'set us up some dinner', you don't mean you're going to cook, do you?"
Chun-li laughed, ruffling the kid's hair though careful not to disturb her long pigtails.
"I was thinking something from Flamenco's," asked Chun-li, "the usual?"
Li-Fen excitedly nodded her head.
"Great," said Chun-li as she smiled down at her. She pushed the glossily finished woodgrain door open, "change out of that uniform and get started on that homework young lady. I'll call in the order from my office, ok?"
"Got it, Jiejie," responded Li-Fen, as she ran off to her room.
Things had been rough starting out when Li-Fen first came under her care.
She'd been closed off, quiet and overly cautious like she was walking on eggshells.
Likely due to her time as a captive
Chun-li eventually managed to get her out of her shell after discovering her interest in martial arts and computers, discovering a sweet, intelligent and curious girl underneath the trauma.
Chun-li closed the door and made her way toward her office.
The condo was plush to put it lightly.
It was three bedrooms, high quality laminate floors, two bathrooms (one of which was in suite, Chun-li's master bath), 2 car garage, fully equipped kitchen with an island and the rear was basically a wall of picture windows and a sliding glass door that led to a spacious patio that also had a great view of the city.
She walked past the kitchen, toward the last bedroom that served as her Chun-li's home office.
This office was just as plush as the rest of the apartment. The floor was the same laminate, a caramel brown wood grain desk where a laptop, an office phone, two more monitors, a keyboard and mouse sat. Behind that desk sat a very comfortable looking dark brown leather chair and shelf that matched the color of the desk that held assorted books and files. The office was then sparsely decorated with a small couch, another chair with a lounge (both matched the color of the chair behind the desk) and there was a TV mounted to wall across from the desk.
She flicked on the light, peeling her jacket off throwing it on the office chair as she sat, turning on the laptop in her wake, taking her weapon placing it on a top drawer and putting her cell phone on the desk.
She grabbed the handset of the office phone and dialed in the phone number of the Flemenco Tavern.
A young woman answered, likely Juri's friend Rachel, as the door to the room creaked open revealing Li-Fen, now dressed down in a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
"May I do my homework in here, with you," she asked.
"Hold on a sec," said Chun-li, placing her hand over the speaker, "of course, Li-Li. I'm just placing our order now."
Li-Fen walks in, textbooks, notebooks and writing utensils in hand and finds a place at a chair, placing her things on the lounge.
Chun-li places their order.
At the thought of Rachel, her mind quickly shifts to Juri and her influence on how Chun-li is even here in San Fransico.
When Juri finalized her agreement that essentially placed her on parole, the question was posed to Chun-li if she would be the parole officer.
She'd declined of course, simply because after Shadaloo fell she wanted to get back into casework and chasing Shadaloo was more like the war on drugs.
One that never ended.
And, with the fall of Shadaloo, also came down those who were in their pockets that included several of Chun-li's superiors.
Once the proverbial house was cleaned, Chun-li was offered a promotion to Chief Inspector which came with a hefty increase in pay and more authority.
The question was posed once more to act as Juri's PO.
Chun-li once more said no.
It didn't take long for them to ask once more, this last time she was asked by the head of the ICJ and the director of INTERPOL.
The fact that they asked her three times told Chun-li a few things.
One, whoever else they may have asked also turned them down, or perhaps she's the only one they have in mind. Two, she may have leverage to demand more than just a promotion.
So, she accepted.
But on a few conditions.
She requested a little more money than her pay raise granted, she requested that she go back to casework, and she requested the process to start to get Li-Fen in her care.
They accepted her conditions and even did her a few better.
INTERPOL pays the rent for the apartment she and Li-Fen live in.
They also placed her in San Fransico as a liaison for between the police department and INTERPOL, as the previous one had been one of individuals on Shadaloo's take. But liaison is a bit of an oversimplification of what she does. Organized crime has seen an uptick in recent years, namely those from Chinese and Vietnamese syndicates with international ties, justifying the need for INTERPOL intervention.
Chun-li works homicides, drug cases and the like but only with those that tie back to organized crime.
She quickly found herself in her element (in between acting as a PO for Juri of course) building cases from scratch, but Chun-li does carry a certain amount of fame wherever she goes.
Which does make some facets of investigation a challenge.
Undercover operations for her are completely out of the question.
Canvases are still on the table, but the fact that the world's strongest woman is asking around about you, it kind of gives away you're a target of law enforcement.
Surveillance has been a boon since she can use her own observational skills from a distance, provided their target doesn't have lookouts.
If she isn't investigating an incident or homicide, she's mostly mapping out an investigation strategy to delegate as needed to the group of detectives she's been granted access to.
She's putting the finishing touches to her report as the buzzer for their apartment goes off.
"That must be dinner," said Chun-li, "Li-Fen, did you finish your homework?"
"Just finishing up," she responded, "can we have the TV with dinner?"
"Sure," Chun-li said as she stood up to buzz the delivery person into the building, "grab some those dinner towels for us, sweetie?"
Li-Fen made her way to the kitchen running past Chun-li before she crossed the threshold of the door.
She buzzed in the delivery person, paid for the food and made her back to the office where Li-Fen was waiting, placing a towel over the lounge by the chair where she'd done her homework.
She gives Li-Fen her food and makes her way back to the desk to start on her own.
She saw Li-Fen placed a few dinner towels on the desk for her, so she places one on her lap but notices she's got a new text from Ken.
'Did you see this', read the text.
It was a picture of a headline from one of the local rag newspapers Ken likes to read.
That man loves reading about himself, she thought.
She hit the picture making it larger.
On that front page was a large picture of Ryu and Juri in a night club in each other's arms, giving each other bedroom eyes. The headline read 'Ensnared by A Spider.'
"Oh, I definitely missed that," she said out loud.
Ken sat at the head of a long oak table with a very glossy finish.
He was dressed to the nines, in a cream Canali suit jacket and matching pants. Underneath the jacket he wore a matching vest, white collared shirt and black tie. His look was completed by slippery looking black dress shoes.
He was flanked by 12 executives, 6 on each side of the table.
The 'empty suits' as Ken liked to call them held various looks of impatience, contempt and some wore even genuine curiosity at his presence here today.
Another man sat the other end of the table.
He was an older man, stout but less muscular than Ken. He had a dark brown crew cut, think, Bruce Willis in Die Hard. He wore a green suit jacket, pants, and a white collared shirt, though he had a black grids design on it with a green tie. He had a matching hat sitting on the table as his brown eyes sat on Ken with a twinkle while he had a small smile on his face, one of pride or maybe encouragement.
The man stood and spoke in a deep authoritative voice, "Alright, it's up to you guys," he put the hat on his head as he walked the edge of the table towards Ken. "Good luck," he intoned as he put a hand on Ken's shoulder as his smile widened, "Mr. Food and Beverage Chairman."
Ken laughs off the nickname, "I don't need luck, old man," he shot back returning a smile.
The man lifted his hat in a silent goodbye as left the room.
Some of the assorted executives' frowns deepened clearly not impressed by the display.
It's not something Ken wasn't used to.
Being the son of Dalton Masters did have its disadvantages at times.
In his younger years Ken questioned why he had a board of stiffs for his own company but now being a part of it Ken understood.
No one man, despite his knowledge, ability or resources at his disposal can know or do everything.
Some of them still annoyed the hell out of him.
But the reason he's sitting practically at judgement of this group today was an interview.
The current director of operations is set to retire at the end of the summer which means her position is up.
Dalton had encouraged Ken to throw his name in the hat, but Ken didn't really expect anything to come of it.
Dalton had of course excused himself of any decision making regarding the position, just to eliminate the possibility of someone thinking of the 'n' word.
Despite the light jab of 'Food and Beverage Chairman' that is what Ken is currently to Masters' Hotel. Though the official title was Food and Beverage Manager.
"So, I guess I'll start," said one executive. This was an older shorter man. Balding but otherwise well-kept. He wore a decent suit but was one of the people present who wasn't happy that Ken was here. He was chief executive something or other. Maybe.
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt the cause to learn their titles.
"Tells us about yourself, Mr Masters," he went on.
Ken had to put in a great effort to stop himself from scoffing.
You've got to be kidding me, he thought, of course you know about me!
He puts on a brave smile, placing his hands on the table intertwining his fingers.
"As you all know, I'm Ken Masters," he said emphasizing his name like a title, "I'm currently the Food and Beverage Manager, or Chairman as our founder and CEO put it. I currently overlook all aspects pertaining to the culinary experience of our company, from purchasing to the actual food being served and everything in between. I've been around Masters' Hotels all my life but have only started working around 5 or 6 years ago. I started work for the chief hotel, which continues to operate in this very building, working as a bell hop. One of the front desk managers recognized my interpersonal skill and recommended me for the front desk service agent. From there I worked myself into a supervisor's role for the front desk, then interviewed for restaurant liaison, which eventually morphed into the role I currently work in."
Several of the assorted executives seem pleased with the intro Ken provided, some seem even.
Those he whom he yet to win over still seemed unimpressed.
Another one, this one a middle-aged woman, her tied into a tight bun with streaks of grey littering otherwise brown hair here and there, dressed in a pant suit threw in her two cents, "This of course was between your globetrotting," she said with an arrogant smile.
His eyebrow twitched, but he managed to keep it together.
Before he can respond, another executive cut in, "It's probably best we keep questions and comments pertaining to the professional, not the personal." This executive was a younger man, younger than Ken even. His suit jacket was on his chair, and he wore a tan dress shirt with a solid black tie and black dress pants. He ran his hand through his slick backed hair as he went, "While Ken's wanderlust is well documented, I don't ever recall him doing anything to embarrass this company, his parents who are also on this board I remind everyone present or himself."
The executive looked at his older peer, giving her a withering look, then looking around at his colleagues, giving the others the same look.
The same executive then went, "Now Mr. Masters, I'm interested in what you bring to the table, what kind of vison would you bring as director of operations?"
Ken smiled, unfurling his hands as sat back relaxing in his chair.
"Well building where I left off. The reason why restaurant liaison morphed into food and beverage manger. Prior to when I took what would become my current role, all our hotels' food services were outsourced; we were the franchisees of one big box restaurant or another. Which had worked, for years. My father built the company like that, while we focused on building other parts of the business, namely our spa services," Ken shot a cheeky smile to assorted suits, "which is the best in game. See, being a franchisee comes with a few advantages. There's already a built-in infrastructure of support, a network of vendors and a built-in name to which to draw from. But then there's also disadvantages. Franchise fees and profit sharing, we are told who we can and cannot do business with, regarding food and equipment vendors, which by the way some of those organizations had ownership in some of those vendors. In some of those cases when food and equipment prices were raised, we had no recourse due to the franchise agreement. Which further squeezed down our profit margins. And lastly it caused a lack of uniformity through our hotels across the county. I had accounting and data run what it would take to get out of the franchise agreements for all locations, what kind of investment would be needed to do our food in-house, and what we would be looking for in a turn-around for a return. After the numbers were crunched, wrote the proposal and it was brought to you all, who approved it provisionally."
"Wait a minute," went one executive, the same older lady who sarcastically referred to Ken's world travels, "that was your proposal?"
Ken nodded, "Yes. My father thought it wasn't likely to be approved if it was known it was me who wrote it. I know I'm not some of you guys' favorite person due who my parents are."
There were hms, and grumbles among the assorted executives, some of whom are softening at Ken due to this recent revelation.
Ken took that as a que to continue, "Once it was approved, I started with our locations whose food services were franchised out to Ruth Chris, which were 12 or 13 hotels, including this one. It took 9 months of work to get it off the ground and another 7 until the business picked back up. And now we're seeing 23% return per quarter and now we are instituting this change region by region as not to cause too much of disruption to ongoing operations."
"And there was a recent proposal to get into catering, cause our test kitchens are doing so well," asked the younger executive, "that was you as well?"
"That was actually my number two guy," said Ken, "he worked as an executive chef for another hotel chain, and I consulted him for our menu."
A hush went over the group as they all nodded silently.
"And that's the kind of vision you can expect from me should be brought on as director of operations," went Ken.
The interview went on, Ken being questioned in a similar vein and answering as such.
"Alright Mr. Masters," went the older bald executive, "we've got a few more interviews, we'll be in touch."
Ken raised, thanking and shaking the hands of all present.
He left the boardroom, making his way down the carpeted hallway, finding a glass door.
Dalton Masters, Founder & CEO, it read as it parted for Ken to enter.
"Is he in," Ken asked the secretary behind the desk, walking to another set of woodgrain French doors.
"I'll buzz you in," she responded.
Ken entered the office.
Its floor was a plush grey carpet and while the space itself was large it was mostly empty but for a table with a few chairs off the side, Dalton's desk and a large filing cabinet behind it and a kitchen-like area that had a fridge, stove and microwave.
Behind the desk sat Dalton Masters, his jacket discarded resting on the back of his chair.
"How'd it go," he asked, eyeing his son worriedly.
"I think I knocked out of the park," responded Ken.
"You think," questioned Dalton.
Ken shrugged, "It was a little rough. Some of them were trying to get rise out of me, but once I went into how it was me revamped our food services, I feel like I won the room."
Dalton nodded, then broke into a wide smile, running from behind the desk taking Ken into giant hug, lifting the blonde into the air.
"That's my boy," Dalton practically yelled, letting Ken back on steady feet.
"Alright, alright," Ken went bashfully at his dad's energetic show of emotion.
"There's some stiff competition among the other candidates, I gotta admit. We aren't out the woods yet," said Dalton.
"I know, dad. I'm not worried though. I'm a Masters," responded Ken.
"Oh, look at you," went Dalton with a teasing smile, "now you're confident, Mr. I-think-I-hit-a-homer. Any plans?"
"Nah," went Ken shaking his head, "I was gonna go back to the office and head home. Latest issue of SF Inquirer should be delivered by now."
Dalton shook his head at his son, "You still read that rag-sheet? Oh, my vain, vain boy. The stuff they print ain't fit to line a hamster's cage."
"It's entertaining to see what stuff they come up with," Ken said, breaking eye contact trying to hide conceitedness.
"I see," said Dalton, "well don't let your questionable taste in entertainment take your eyes off the prize."
Ken nods.
He knows his father is right to ignore the sleazy newspaper, but he cannot let it go.
Dalton steps back to Ken, pulls him into an embrace, pushing their foreheads together.
He then breaks off, "What am I always telling you, kid? Alexander the Great only became king because he was Philip the 2nd's son. But Alexander built his name on his own ability."
Ken nodded once more before he took his leave.
"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," said Dalton.
Ken left and made his way to his office, seeing his latest issue of the aforementioned newspaper right on his desk.
It was faced down as he grabbed it, made his to the elevator to parking lot and made his way home uneventfully.
He pulled into the driveway of his home, seeing his wife's SUV already there signifying her and Mel already being home.
Ken's home was in the city, it was a 3 story, 8-bedroom house on the corner of a slightly sloped street.
It had beige windows, beige trim and grey stucco/concrete exterior, sound resistant cali bamboo floors in the halls, kitchen and bathrooms, and plush carpet in the bedrooms.
Ken walked up to the side door, unlocking it and crossing the threshold.
"I'm home," he yelled hoping the home occupants heard him.
"We're in the kitchen, Ken," responded Eliza.
Ken walked up a set of stairs (covered in the same cali bamboo) by the side door making his way to the kitchen.
As he walks in, he sees Eliza standing at the kitchen island, looking at the mail discarding one letter after the other on polished granite countertops.
She's dressed in a short sleeved cyan colored sundress, with a gold necklace and heart pendant around her neck. She shifted back and forth on black flats as she went through the mail.
Her blue eyes shot up, catching Ken, giving him a better view of her angular face, her wavy blond hair bouncing with the motion. She threw the unsorted letters to the side, running toward Ken, "Baby," she went as she threw herself into his arms, hers going around his neck, "how was the interview," she asked, making some space between them but still in his embrace.
"I made good impression I feel," said Ken.
"How long until you here back anything," she asked.
"A few weeks maybe. Dad says there's good applicants beside myself, but we'll see," he said, throwing the newspaper on top of the letters, "but enough about me, how was your day, and where's Mel?"
She smiled brightly at him, "Other than freighting about your interview nothing out of the ordinary," she then juts her head toward the nook, where the table stood, "Mel's at the table getting his homework knocked out."
He kissed his wife on the cheek, then broke out of the embrace.
As he approached Mel, Ken could hear a low 'oh' in surprise from Eliza and a ruffle of papers as he approached his son.
"Hey Mel," said Ken as he sat next to him, ruffling his blonde hair playfully.
Mel's blue eyes twinkled in fondness as he fought his dad's hand off his head, then adjusted himself in his seat to get more comfortable. The youngest Masters was dressed in long sleeved white button-up, with a black tie that reached about belly button level. His uniform included a black vest but was rested on the back of the chair he sat in, and he wore black slacks and black dress shoes.
"Hey dad," he said.
"Anything interesting happen today," Ken asked, as he looked at one of the assorted workbooks Mel had on the table.
Mel dropped his head and blushed.
Eliza called from her spot at the island," He told me on the ride home, his and Li-Fen's class shared the math lab today. And her being an upperclassman she helped him out with some of his problems."
"Oh really," Ken questioned playfully, "did you tell her you think she's cute?"
"I, I," Mel stammered.
Eliza approached, newspaper in hand, "Leave him alone. Let him finish his work," as she light smacked Ken over the head with the newspaper, "But if you're really concerned about someone's love life, I think you'll find this latest issue of the inquirer a good read."
She handed the paper off to him.
He saw the headline and the accompanying picture, and his eyebrows shot into his hair.
"What the fu…" he started.
"KEN," interrupted Eliza.
"Right," he went head dropping slightly in shame, "not in front of Mel." He drops the newspaper on the table, taking a picture of it and then he taps his phone screen furiously.
Mel looks at the discarded newspaper, recognizing the couple in the picture, "Does this mean the spider lady's going to be my new auntie?" he asked innocently.
"Not if I have something to say about it," said Ken.
"Baby, I don't think it's something you should concern yourself with," said Eliza, as she sat down with the father and son Masters at the table in the nook, "Juri's come up a few times whenever I speak to Guile."
"And what did he think," asked Ken.
"His exact words were, 'I feel she's ready to be citizen'," she said, imitating Guile's voice and posture.
Mel laughs, as well Ken, "The threat of life in prison just might do that to a person," he said.
Eliza lets out a huff, "I have no doubt Juri turned around out of preservation, but could you blame her? Besides that, don't you think that maybe she got sick of living her life that way?"
Ken leans over, giving her a kiss on the cheek, "Part of why I love you is you always try to see the bright side of things," said Ken.
Eliza cuts her eyes at him, "Why do I feel a 'but' coming on?"
"No buts," said Ken, "I just don't trust her."
His phone rings, indicating a text.
He looks down, seeing Chun-li's response.
'Love is in the air, but that headline is a little overdramatic for my taste', it read.
'What do you think of this', he typed back.
'I guess its good they've found someone,' she typed back.
'You think she's on the up-and-up.' Ken punched in.
'Believe it or not, I trust her to keep her nose clean. This might be good for her, for Ryu too. Though I am a little worried,' said Chun-li's text.
Another one from Chun-li came immediately, 'I'm about to start on dinner though, Talk to you later.'
'Got ya. Don't burn down the kitchen', he typed back.
She responded by sending a middle finger emoji.
"Well that was fruitless," said Ken, "we still got that business card?"
Eliza shakes her head.
AN: So, this was more to establish Ken and Chun-li as solid supporting characters and to set up some conflict. Do expect some more Chun-li and Ken centric stuff going forward.
Also, I wanted to test my ability in doing some crime-drama type stuff for another work I have in mind. I'm eager to hear what you think.