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Addes
It was raining that day for sure.
It was almost as if he had an affinity for rain.
Nearby the rain-flecked window lay a cracked mirror, some Nietzsche, some Goethe, and a single white envelope--.
Alba smiles wryly as he runs a comb through his long locks.
"King"...huh? It seems I still lack the gravitas to be called that."
A lock of hair hangs down on his forehead. Alba flicks it back and puts on his sunglasses.
The sunglasses that Fate remarked on when he started wearing them as a kid have now become part of Alba's image.
"...Ooh, those look good on you. They make you look cooler."
"Do you think so?"
"Yup. No matter how hard you hurt, how lonely you are, or how pained you might be, you gotta stay cool. Never loose your cool.... If you remember that, you'll keep Soiree and the others secure and under your wing. A leader has to stay composed at all times."
"But your this towns leader, aren't you, Fate?"
"People just started calling me that before I knew what was going on. Actually, I'm not too good at dealing with pain and fear. I'd like to quit this stuff as soon as I can and leave it all to my young followers...So I'm hoping you'll make a name for yourself soon and let me spend a carefree retirement in Florida or someplace, OK, Alba?"
Are you listening Alba?
"...Alba!"
The door suddenly springs open to interrupt Alba's momentary recollections as a panicked voice accompanied by frantic footsteps fly into the room.
Noel and Gallagher...the two are the first "friends" Alba and Soiree met when they began to work for Fate.
"Is it true that you're going to enter, Alba?"
"Yup, who told you that?"
"Well, you know...but that's not important!"
Noel snaps and bangs the table. A half-empty bottle of schnapps on the table rings with the blow.
"You do understand your position now, Alba, don't you?"
"Yeah! You're the town's "King" now, aren't you? You leaving town at such an important time like this..."
"Enough."
Alba sighs, cutting off Gallaghers tirade.
"I've only lived half as long as Fate has. ...Don't you think it's a bit presumptuous of a punk kid like me to assume the title of 'King?'"
"It's not up to you to decide! It's what we think. It's what the people of this city think!"
"The one who drove out that damn "Mephistopheles" and that twit Duke was you and you alone, right? Then that seals your fate as the next 'King', right? This town needs a 'King!'
"That title is a bit heavy for someone of my age."
Alba gently flicks his hair back.
"...And the person who killed Fate is still alive. I can't become his successor until I avenge Fate's death."
Noel and Gallagher gulp at Alba's words. Not only for Alba, but for those from the slums like Noel and the gang, the title of "King" was something that could not be ignored.
"Also...I won't beat around the bush, but this next battle just may make a few things clear. I just have a feeling about that."
"Make a few things clear? ...Are you talking about your 'dream'?"
"Yup."
The dream, that recurring dream he's had so often...
The "dream" of a beautifully shining night sky with a multitude of stars that blot out the darkness. When did this strange dream mixed with a feeling of both alienation and nostalgia come to enter his deep slumber every night?
He cannot help but think that it was from the time he encountered that mysterious beauty.
"If it's that honey you're infatuated with, it seems she's no longer in this town."
Noel mutters to himself as if he's peered into the soul of the suddenly silent Alba.
"...Ever since you told us about her, you've made us turn this town upside down and we have only come up with squat. ...Or do you think somehow that babe will show up in the tournament?"
"Who knows? ...All that has nothing to do with it, though. I just want to be able to hold my head high when I stand before Fate's grave. And I also think this battle is vital to this town.
Taking a white letter with his red leather-gloved hands, Alba looks back at the two.
"...I'm leaving everything up to you while I'm gone. Help Soiree out and hold it together."
"We're telling you that's not going to happen, and that's why we're trying to stop you."
Noel the worrywart slaps his forehead and looks up at the ceiling. Gallagher shrugs exaggeratedly and a bitter smile breaks across his face.
"...And Soiree's disappeared a long time ago."
"What?"
"He got one of those letters too. One of those KING OF FIGHTERS invitations."
Hearing this, Alba is dumbstruck for a moment, then smiles wryly again.
"...Come to think of it, he had been acting a little strange recently."
"Oh, well. You two have always operated in tandem ever since I can remember. You don't look like each other, but that trait alone is where you're identical."
"Just go and don't worry about things here. ...But just make sure you come back, huh? Our "King" is you and you alone, Alba."
"I got ya."
The three bang their firmly clenched fists together and Alba takes off.
The gloomy night continues to shed its warm tears. A clear sky has been absent for days.
"More light...was it? ...But I'm far from a Nietzschean mood."
Leaving his apartment without an umbrella, Alba jumps into his cherished car parked next to the garage, turns the key, and smiles at the trusty vibration that comes up through the seat. A feeling of reassuring excitement unfolds withing the man who always tries to be calm.
"I guess...I'm really beginning to enjoy this stuff."
His heart leaps at the battle that stands before him - but his sunglasses and poker face give no apparent clue of this to anyone - and Alba floors the accelerator of his muscle car.
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Addes
Ralf Jones is one of the one-eyed mercenary Heidern's men he trusts most. Proficient in the use of all weapons, even without a knife he has safely returned from battlefields with the lowest survival rates, using his well-tempered and powerful body as a weapon. Ralf fears nothing, often plunging into the jaws of death without concern for personal safety.
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Addes
A disciple of Kim, South Korea's leading tae kwon do athlete. Chae began the art at the age of 4 and was said to be Kim's hidden weapon as she had been banned from entering tournaments.
She more than proved her ability, however, in the last KOF.
Although she may appear similar to Kim, overly serious, strait-laced and placing tae kwon do above all, she's just a normal girl once she takes off her gym clothes.
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Addes
He's the true heir to the Ancient Arts of Kusanagi that let him manipulate flame. But he loathes the outdated feud between the Kusanagis and Yagamis and their connection with the Orochi; this makes him reticent to his duties as his bloodline's heir.
After his battles with the Orochi and NESTS, fearing to involve his friends and family in his troubles, he roams the world but has begun to get a little homesick.
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Addes
To effect her revenge, Lien spent her youth polishing her skills as an assassin for Duke, the man who killed her parents. Her objective is to slay Duke and destroy the secret syndicate "Addes" that rules over him. But due to over a decade in his presence, feelings for him other than hate often plague her.
At Duke's behest, she had a hand in the former "King" Fate's death and is now a target of Alba and Soiree, but her final goal is to destroy Duke.
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Addes
Believing her grandmother was a great witch, Mignon hopes to become a sorceress like her and bring peace to the world with her magic, but due to her privileged upbringing, good or bad, she's unable to put her plan in action.
Although she may seem a bit comical, she has a steadfast and strong character.
She believes she will become a true witch once she's able to open her grandmother's jewel box, but there's no evidence it's even close to opening.
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Addes
He's a vagabond fighter who popped up one day in Southtown. An expert in the Brazillian fighting art of capoeira, he spent his days street fighting to popularize the art.
In recent years he's devoted himself to the management of the Pao Pao Cafe, which he himself owns, and after a long break he's decided to enter the ring as a fighter once again.
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Addes
The host of a garden party of philanthropists at a certain mansion asks Seth, "So, what do you do?"
Seth ponders a bit, and then says:
"To put it simply... I guess you'd say I'm a crime fighter."
"Well that is nice."
Taking Seth's reply as a joke, the lady's pudgy body begins to quiver with laughter.
Seth mainly does work for the good of society. His presence here tonight speaks of that.
This old lady's husband is a drug lord who fronts for Southeast Asian insurgents.
His wife is most likely ignorant of this. If she knew most of the wealth that she's devoted to philanthropy came from poppies, she'd not be acting so naively.
While chatting up the lady, Seth shifted his finger with a camera inside its ring to get proof to put her husband away. If this ample proof, got in the party's confusion were sent to the authorites, she'd never see her kind hubby again.
Seth shakes his head, pressing his temple.
"I guess I've had a little too much to drink."
It was not his head but heart that hurt for this lady who failed to see through his lies.
"Oh, you poor thing."
"Will you excuse me? I'd like to take in some of the evening air to clear my head."
"Go ahead. The night is still young, after all."
He bows to take leave of his credulous conversation-lover and the party-goers and heads for the vicinity of the dark pond.
"Would you like a cool glass of water, sir?"
A tall waiter supporting a silver tray approaches Seth as he stares into the pond. Seth, looking behind him, squints happily.
In the next moment, the two bow to each other meaningfully.
"Thank you."
Gulping down the well-chilled water, Seth removes his ring to toss it in the emptied glass and return it to the tray.
"-One more thing."
"What is it, sir?"
"Please kindly tell the madam I became sick and went home, would you? Also add that I'll make up for any discourtesy later."
"Yes, I will do so."
The waiter bows deeply as Seth leaves him behind and takes his leave of the madam's party.
"Mission accompolished... I guess."
By tomorrow the gardens in which the guests from the world of politics and finance partied wil be filled with police.
Among these will be the waiter with his badge on a frayed suit.
And the madam in a pricey gown who will be staring blankly as her husband's taken into custody.
"Forgive me, madam. This is the cost of social justice."
Seth tears off his tight ascot and slings his tuxedo over his shoulder, looking back a little sadly at the ormented gate.
What had bought Seth closer to Fate, the powerful Southtown boss, was a need to approach the Addes syndicate that led the rising Mephistopheles.
It wasn't as if they had made a contract, but the two had come to a certain understanding.
Seth would provide Fate with information on Mephistopheles he would otherwise be unable to get, and Fate would shakes things up for Mephistopheles in turn.
Fate's objective was to get rid of Mephistopheles and its boss, Duke from Southtown while Seth intended to drive the syndicate to its destruction while and smoke out the upper echolons of Addes in the process.
The two entered a calculated relationship, using and being used by the other, which went well, at least up to a point.
Their only miscalculation was Fate being assassinated before Seth reached his objective.
After the party Seth walks back to his office, buffeted by the evening breeze, and finds a white envelope waiting for him on his office's glass table.
Seth heaves a deep sigh as he looks over the letter with its seal sporting the scythes of the reaper and raptor wings.
Seth, having been once again invited to KOF, surnises Addes is behind this decides to join- this may be his chance.
But those twins may also have arrived at the same decision.
Alba and Soiree Meira, raised by Fate as if they were his own sons, have crossed paths before.
Tossing away his tuxedo jacket, Seth tumbles onto the couch.
"A pro never lets his personal feelings into his mission..."
But this belief does not help him get used to the glare of those two thirsting for revenge.
He knows Alba and Soiree believe Seth used Fate like a tissue, only to toss him away once he was through with him.
This, of course, isn't true, but Seth sees Alba's logic and he's too young to see the truth.
"...I know I will always be in their sights for letting Fate die like that, but..."
He picks up the bottle of bourbon on the table, takes a swig from the bottle, and then takes out a sigh.
Seth looks up at the dark ceiling and begins to mumble.
How can he square thing with those two twins remains a riddle he just can't solve.
It wasn't the first time Seth had to sacrifice something for the sake of the mission.
Even so, he never quite got used to its bitter aftertaste.
Even more, this time a person's life had been sacrificed.
With the death of one, the lives of many had been saved. His life was not wasted.
But, sophisms like this don't hold true for the family of the dead.
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Addes
When Alba and Soiree lost their parents, they both were still just three years old. But both of them have almost no recollection of their parents.
At any rate, since the two twins recall that the elder was named Alba after the Italian word for "dawn" and Soiree, the younger, after the French word for "twilight" their two parents - if considered positive at the maximum - their parents may have been Spanish or Portugese, educated after a fashion and in possession of a good sense of humor. The reason being that the surname of Meira was a frequently occurring one among those Latin peoples.
It is said that Germans are diligent, stubborn and inflexible, but the cheerfulness of Soiree, who gives no impression of any such disposition, may get this particular trait from his parents.
Soiree is always amazingly cheerful.
He never worries needlessly.
"...Having met her once, there's no way I can forget that beautiful woman."
Washing down his cooled off hamburger with a swig of cola, Soiree Meira mumbles.
In the mind's eye of Soiree who looks up at the sky while leaning against a rusty handrail there's the image of the beautiful woman he met about a month ago.
He cannot help but think he had met her before - or more accurately, he's sure he had met her somewhere before. In fact, he's almost certain in the feeling that not just a month or so before but long, long ago they had more than just a casual encounter.
But when and where did he meet her? That is the crucial thing Soiree cannot recall at all.
Crushing the empty can of cola, Soiree buries his head in his hands.
"Agh! Not being able to remember the name of such a babe is really driving me crazy! I mean, this is me, Soiree, we're talkin' about here-."
"What are you babbling about by yourself, Soiree?"
A chiding voice calls down from above when Soiree beings to complain to himself on the landing of the emergency stairs below.
"-Did you do something to peeve Alba off again?"
"Hey, that's no way to talk to me,,Ann! I'm at a tender age here, and I can have the usual concerns of the common folk, can't I?"
"Whatever the case with Alba, you have worries?"
Ann, who has climbed up the stairs, puts a hand to her mouth and titters.
Ann has been an old friend since the time Soiree arrived in this town with Alba.
For Soiree, Ann is like a kid sister, but she herself has the tendency to think of Soiree as merely a troublesome younger brother or the like. All this in spite of the fact that Soiree is six years older than she. For Soiree, this is something that apparently really frosts his cupcake.
"Hmph...I guess unlike my brother, such things don't suit me, huh?"
"Being a pouty-pants like that doesn't suit you, don't you think? -Yup that's it."
"Huh."
"You're no pouty-pants."
Ann's small hand extends an envelope in Soiree's direction.
"A letter for me?"
"Yup. I found it wedged in the crack of the door."
"I don't know anyone who would send me such a fancy-shmancy thing as a letter..."
He turns the envelope he got over and over again to examine it, but the name of the sender is no where to be found. Only a seal impressed in red sealing wax attracts his attention.
It's the seal in which two wings of a bird of prey appear behind two intersecting scythes -.
"I can't tell if this is in good or bad taste..."
While he mumbles this to himself, the same impudent grin as always dances on his face, but his eyes express a darker emotion.
"...What is this?"
Ann worriedly asks Soiree as he examines the contents of the envelope. Ann appears to sensitively perceive the subtle change in Soiree, her friend from long ago.
"Uh...it's nothing for you to fret over, Ann."
He gently tousles up Ann's hair, breaking out in a broad smile.
"Is this, how do you say it - an invitation to some kind of festival or something?"
"A festival?"
"If you mean that the party won't start if I don't show up? Yeah, it sure is tough being such a popular person."
Making an attempt to lighten things up a bit, Soiree is already jumping over the rail in the next instant and whirling in the air.
"Catch you later, Annie! I'm out of here!"
Soiree safely falls down to the ground several meters below, thrusts his hands in his pocket as if nothing happened, wand walks off.
"You're out of here...Hold on, there! Where do you think you're going, Soiree?!"
Soiree flashes a friendly smile at Ann who is now sliding down the banister.
"I told you, the festival! A festival! A guy like me can't stay quiet when I get wind of a little shindig, don't you think?"
Soiree's feet walking along the gravel suddenly shuffle to a little dance rhythm.
Soiree is always like this before a battle. His body unwittingly begins to move in synch with the excitement bubbling up inside him.
Stepping to the melody of the Berimbau echoing in his head, Soiree waves with his back toward Ann.
"-Keep my departure a secret to Big Brother and Noel for a while, will you?! I'll bring you back a souvenir or something!"
"Wait! Soiree!"
Ann's calls pursue him but Soiree's steps do not subside.
Yup-there's no point worrying.
Soiree thinks surely it's not part of his style to worry about this and that.
For stuff like that, he'll leave it to those whose worrying figure would look good in a picture, like Alba or someone.
"THE KING OF FIGHTERS, huh...?"
Soiree shoves the envelope into his back pocket and smiles devilishly.
"-I don't know who is putting on this event, but having been invited, I can't help not joining the party.
The thoughts of the beautiful woman who had previously taken up a majority of his thought has already completely vanished from the mind of Soiree who is now psyched up over the premonition of battle.
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