Guess who's back, back again, yadda yadda, you know the rest of the song. So here's what happened. Initially, my intention was to resume with New Horizon from where I stopped but, since I couldn't retrieve my old e-mail and thus my old account, I thought I could simply copy-and-paste what I written so far in the new one...only to find out it would go directly against the site's guidelines, something I should've probably guessed on my own and would've known if I'd bothered to read that fine print three weeks ago. In other words, for those two people who cared, New Horizon is now officially, regretfully canned. So, unwilling to anger the Fanfiction gods and have my fresh, new account terminated, I decided to start from scratch with a new story, which is less ball-busting that you would think considering I was spinning ideas in my noggin endlessly even back when I was writing New Horizon. Thank you for reading this rant and I hope to entertain you even a little.
SOUTH TOWN FEDERAL PRISON, EAST WING
Within these walls, only the brave or the foolish would dare walk down the hallways where the worst scum of South Town is being kept, safely away from the regular citizens. As four figures marched past every single cell, the inmates shouted indignities from every direction.
"Yo, the warden itself graces us with his presence!"
"What's the matter? Tired of collecting dust in your office, fatso?!"
"Come here, got a fancy present for that smug face of yours!"
"Geese's gonna bust us out of here in a matter of days, you fuckin' know it!"
The man in his sixties clenched some kind of parchment in his hand, not giving the crazed prisoners any attention. Unfortunately for him, they had all intentions of grabbing it, especially the skinny dude in a straitjacket who smashed his face on the glass panel of his personalized cell, scaring the prison guards half to death.
"This is torture, please...everywhere I look I see zombies wrapped in iron. I-i must cut the chains, I-I MUST CUT THEM ALL!"
"Back off, Freeman, or we'll tie up your legs too!" Shouted back one of the black suits while kicking the panel, even as the serial killers remained unfazed and lost in the hellish labyrinth of his own mind.
It was already a crappy day for the warden, he really didn't want to go through another shouting contest demanding peace and quiet from a pack of rabid animals. His person of interest was at the end of the wing, far away from the most packed cells. After a solid ten minutes of enduring furious screams, profanities and insane ramblings, the group reached the last cell, 177-E, to be exact.
"Warden, if you feel at any moment that your life in is danger, we won't hesitate to put down that bastard." Claimed one of the armed men. The three of them, despite being armed and very well-trained, felt like a couple of putzes when compared to this particular inmate, known throughout the whole criminal underworld for its relentless savagery.
"Thanks for the concern, Gutierrez, but...I'm afraid we don't have that option." The old man put the thumb on the scanner in front and allowed the iron door to rise, trying his hardest not to look terrified in front of his subordinates. There he was, the blond, muscle-blonde thug they were looking for, trying and failing to fall asleep.
"Mitchell, hooooooneeeeeeyyyyyy! I always feel SO honored when you come and visit!"
"Spare me the sweet-talk, Yamazaki! Up on your ass and straight on your back when you're in front of me!" Normally, taking that kind of tone with Ryuji is a one-way ticket to the morgue, but the yakuza leader felt particularly bored that night and didn't feel like breaking the warden's jaw and leaving it dangling like a piece of meat at the butcher.
"Oh, brought your back-up dancers along, I see. 'Sup, Gutierrez, did you finally win at the lottery? No wait, stupid question. You wouldn't still drag your ass here in this hole if you did."
"W-wait, how did you know-"
"Quiet, you two! I have something extremely important to ask you." Warden Mitchell shouted while stomping his feet.
"Well gosh, sweetie. Don't give me any preferential treatment now or my roommates here are gonna get jealous, know what I mean?" Yamazaki laughed up a storm, to the immense annoyance of the prison guards.
"Alright, alright, straight talk only from here on out. What do you need from moi?"
"I'd like to know what kind of connections you have inside law enforcement to ensure that I've received this crap from the feds, asking for your immediate release this morning." Mitchell threw the piece of paper he was holding in anger, which bounced back against the bars then flopped to the ground. Yamazaki was genuinely surprised by all this. He wasn't exactly a model citizen so why would they give a lowlife like him the time of day?
"Ain't got a clue, sugar. Do I look like I mingle with that crowd?"
"So what? You're trying to convince me you had no hand in this whole affair?"
"Well, let's put it like this, my dear Warden." Yamazaki said, resting his arm on the bars. Gutierrez and the other guards were ready to pump him full of lead, but Mitchell made stand down with a minute gesture of his hand. "You know better than anyone that when you put me in jail, it's considered more like a...vacation than anything else. No one takes the phrase "Ryuji Yamazaki has been arrested" seriously, not me, not you, not those scaredy cats behind you, not the people of South Town, nobody period. So if I were in your shoes, I'd take the opportunity to let me waltz out of here through the quote-on-quote official channels since the alternative would involve...a lot of safety protocol violations and property damage, to put it mildly." The yakuza then leaned forward to look at the warden straight in the eyes. "How about I handle this boring-ass business with the high spheres on my own and you get to keep your reputation and your prison intact?"
The jittering eyes of the warden said more than words could ever do. Little more than half an hour later, Ryuji Yamazaki was a free man for the billionth time, with all his "little trinkets", personal effects and favorite black shirt back where they belong. If only Ryuji didn't left his fur coat in the office the last time he was arrested. His exit strut would've been even sweeter. Weirdly enough, the first thing that caught his eye once out the door wasn't the bombshell tapping her foot in the distance or the sketchy guy behind the wheel of the vehicle that's going to take him away, but the night sky. Something felt off, something that Ryuji couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Hmm...Is it just me or the stars look brighter than usual tonight?" He asked to himself before quickly discarding that thought.
"Bah, whatever. It's probably 'cause I haven't seen 'em in a while."
Watched by Gutierrez as he walked down the concrete pathway that led to the facility, the guard was beyond irate that an animal like Yamazaki is back on the streets like it's no big deal.
"You must feel so proud of yourself, you smug prick."
"Well, certainly can't complain, Gutierrez. Enjoy your shitty salary, kay?"
"Yeah, yeah, keep patting yourself on the back. Warden Mitchell will keep the cell warm for your inevitable return."
"Sounds like a Steven Seagal film and not one of the good ones. Don't feel like being the protag."
The Yakuza reached the black van at the end of the gray carpet. A young woman wearing a bandanna and machine-gun shells on her waistband looked impatiently at him and he certainly returned the favor.
"Damn, you can bail me out of the birdhouse any time you want, gorgeous."
"That's outside my field of expertise, I'm afraid. Instead, I could always open a new zipper on your throat, if you prefer." The war returnee-looking woman openly caressed the hilt of her katana, just to make sure the message was coming across.
"Gotcha, you're the annoying, rigid-as-a-log type. Christ, there's always a catch in these kind of deals."
"Eat a dick, Yamazaki. Get in the car."
After flipping him off, the woman opened the car door and hopped over to the farthest seat possible from Ryuji, who followed suit. The mere thought of breathing the same air as him sickened her to her stomach. The sunglasses-wearing driver couldn't scream secret agent harder if he tried, not interested in the slightest in making conversation. He simply started the van and occasionally eyed the upper window to monitor the two of them, otherwise his focus was 100% on the road.
"So, why did the feds needed me so desperately?" The yakuza clearly didn't care that the other passenger didn't even wanna interact with him.
"Don't ask me. We are taking this mission for the same, simple reason. Making money."
"Actually, I wasn't aware there was cash involved. How much dough are we talking here?"
"If the mission is successful? 400000$ each."
"FUCK YEAH, this is a good day, after all!" Ryuji claimed, slapping his own thigh with joy.
"Glad you're enjoying yourself, I guess. I'm forced to have a deranged scumbag like you as a partner because there was no alternative and my people can't afford to wait any longer."
"Sheesh, a good samaritan, too. What, you want a medal for your noble intentions, career mercenary?" That remark seemed to genuinely offend her, as she was glaring daggers at Ryuji with nearly bloodshot eyes.
"Jesus, take a chill pill, okay? I'm never serious. Shouldn't that be something every criminal worth a damn knows about-"
"I'm not a criminal." She said matter-of-factually, almost granitic in her conviction, while turning away and watching outside the window in disgust.
"Yeah right, that must be why you're riding in an unmarked van with yours truly and the MIB guy on the driver's seat." The yakuza snickered unconvinced, though that doesn't answer the one thing he was curious about.
"So you got a name or should I try with a lucky guess?" Yamazaki asked. The woman thought she might as well answer. Who knows, perhaps it will shut him up if God is feeling merciful today.
"...It's Rosa."
"Huh, that's...surprisingly fitting, if you can believe me. It's not Ramboette, but it makes a good contrast with-"
"Oh for the love of-Can you stop running your mouth for, like, five seconds straight?! I need to focus on Singapore."
"The hell? Why Singapore of all places?"
"Because that's where I'll spend my sabbatical-It's the destination of our mission, OBVIOUSLY!" Rosa screamed at the top of her lungs.
"You are both acting unprofessional, cut that shit out. We have two stopovers ahead of us and I'm not about to play babysitter with you two, got it?" The driver butted in with his monotone voice. "Yamazaki, another word from you and I'm cutting that tongue out. Trust me when I say you do not want to know what I have hidden in the dashboard. Rosa, he's clearly provoking you because he's bored, there's no point in bothering with an answer. Everything clear, kids?" Both of them fell silent, much to the driver's satisfaction.
"Dear Lord, I ended up doing it anyway...married life's getting to me." The man in black muttered under his breath.
The trio kept making their way to South Town International Airport, illuminated only by the passing street lamp as they all made their way to the extra-urban road. Though he would never admit out loud, the yakuza couldn't help but be a more than a little intrigued by this chain of events. Of all the nutjobs the government could recruit, the honor fell upon him. It would be rude if he backed away now without discovering first-hand the reasons why, or rather, before the fun truly begins.
Something I should mention is that I will structure this whole thing much differently than New Horizon. It will start with a collection of short stories following those who will be the major players in the future tournament and what they're up to. These shorties will be either action-packed like Molded Like Clay or much more character-driven like the following one. Still, I'm just glad to be writing again and hopefully life gives me a fucking break now.
P.S.: Rosa is based and how could SNK completely forgot about such a simple yet awesome design?
NEXT TIME: Two very different criminals start making their way to Singapore, being very unenthusiastic of each other's presence. First stop, Lisbon, where they'll meet their "benefactors".