Fighters

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter In a certain bar in Southtown, just as the clock struck 6:02, the back door opened. Though the bar had just opened, the refreshing scent of lime and gin wafted through the air. "...You're two minutes late," said a beautiful young woman, as she sat looking at the clock with her elbow propped on the counter. Not even a full day had passed since these three agents had been called upon to participate in KOF and investigate it. The actual client was unknown, but since the request had been delivered through Seth, it seemed to be on the up-and-up, and was therefore worth investigating. A few minutes ago, Vanessa and Ramon had arrived, followed shortly after by Blue Mary, a.k.a. Mary Ryan. Ramon gave Mary a stern look, which looked thoroughly out of place on him. "Come on, now, chica," he said, "We could've been killed in those two minutes." Vanessa nodded in assent. "I'm not fond of being overly serious, but you're cutting it kind of close, you know?" Though she was unused to being reprimanded, much less by two people at once, Mary removed her jacket and sat on the stool next to Ramon. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." On hearing that, the two both seemed to relax. As free agents, it wasn't their place to interfere with the work of others, but each of them had duties to fulfill. This particular job could prove life-threatening. Even so, after confirming a few things and a light toast, the conversation slipped into idle chat. Seth had conveyed the particulars of this investigation to each of them earlier. Each also understood the others' fighting styles. They were to participate in the tournament as a team, with the tacit implication that, once the job was done, they would be free to go about their respective business. In other words, they were all adults here. Vanessa had already had more than few beers, and she had called the bartender over, explaining to him the recipe for a cocktail. It was an interesting sight, since she typically drank nothing stronger than beer. "You take three ounces of gin, one ounce of lemon juice, two teaspoons of sugar and blue Curacao. Then, get the sparkling wine and..." "That's a ‘Blue Mary,' right?" replied the bartender. Though she wasn't really listening in, Mary heard it anyway, and she recalled the recipe. Or rather, she more remembered the cocktail itself... "You know that one?" she asked Vanessa. Behind the counter, the shaker was already giving off a cool, refreshing sound. Vanessa returned a cheerful smile as she replied. "Yeah, someone taught it to me at school back home. His name was--" Mary finished for her. "...Butch." "Yes, Butch," Vanessa continued, slightly startled. "You know him?" The bartender poured the contents of the shaker into a wine glass full of ice, then filled it to the top with sparkling wine. "He was young, but he was a great teacher for his age," Vanessa went on. "Always wanted to join the Secret Service, as I recall. I wonder how he's doing these days." "...He's dead." Mary said flatly. The room suddenly grew very quiet. The only sound was the faint popping of the bubbles in the wine, leaving the atmosphere dark and cold. "Butch used to work with my father," said Mary. "They were chief bodyguards of the President." Mary spoke in a barely-audible whisper, reciting the old newspaper story. The assassination attempt on the President several years ago. The parade where it was almost carried out. How the two Secret Servicemen had given their lives that day. And how close Mary had been to them... "Oh yeah!" interjected Ramon. "I remember that. It was all over the papers in Mexico." The condensation on the glass in his hand slid down its surface, soaking the coaster. Mary continued, barely noticing his comment. "Butch was the one who gave me this leather jacket. He taught me Commando Sambo as well. It took me a long time to get over it." Mary smiled, but even the most cursory glance from a casual observer would reveal that it was forced. The bartender silently continued polishing the glasses behind the counter, but turned an inquisitive ear toward the conversation. "...I think I've been slacking off a bit lately," Mary muttered after some time. "Hey, don't worry about earlier," Ramon said. "We're not Japanese, so it's not like two minutes is a big deal." Vanessa nodded. "Yeah. We were just picking on you... you know, to lighten the mood a bit." Mary silently shook her head. She hadn't forgotten how to smile like she did back then. But even so... "I think I've still got a little way to go before I'm back to normal." The front door suddenly opened with a mighty clatter, and several customers came in, filling the place with the sound of footsteps. Gradually, the bar grew ever more crowded. The agents' moods were still just a little too dark from the stories of the evening. The three spoke to no one as they stood up. As they left, they saw that night had fallen completely, and the street was dark. The walls everywhere were crowded with lamps which lit the way. "What say we work on getting you back to normal tomorrow morning?" Ramon said. "I know a place nearby where they sell some honest-to-goodness authentic tequila."

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter "Far beyond the mountain, happiness is what man fears. A groan cannot convey the tears of those who walk alone." There was a small public park across the street from the parking lot of a huge hospital, and a young girl was there playing, all alone. "Look at that girl, Diana," Kula said to the tall woman standing next to her. It seemed the girl was always playing down there, or at least, at every opportunity. Her alabaster skin only accented her extremely thin body, and she regularly spent her time there on the swing. "Would you like to be friends with her, Kula?" asked Diana gently, and Kula nodded her assent. Tomorrow, Kula decided, she would call out to the little girl. She always seemed so lonely. In that, Kula felt she could sympathize. She had felt lonely every single day in the last three years. The girl was at the hospital regularly, but who knew what was wrong with her. But no matter... they would be friends, and Candy would be there with them in spirit. The next day, the little girl did not show up as she normally did. Kula sat on the swings alone, barely rocking back and forth. There was no sign of the girl approaching from the hospital... and as Kula looked up in the sky above, there was a thin line of vapor winding its way up and out of sight. Eventually, it faded away and was no more. Diana looked at Kula gravely. "I'm led to understand that she died yesterday, Kula." "Yeah," Kula sighed. "I suspected as much." Diana leaned against the supports of the swing and continued. "She went through many different operations. There were treatments that could have helped her live longer, but she wouldn't go through with them." "What kind of treatments?" "Machines, mostly," the tall, raven-haired woman replied. "She would have to stay hooked up to them to keep her heart beating." Kula looked puzzled. "...So she didn't want to live anymore?" "I think there was more to it than that." This was met with a shake of the head. "I'd choose to go on living, no matter what," said Kula. "Even if they had to make me all machines. I could even handle being like Candy, if that's what it took to keep me alive..." She looked directly at Diana and asked, "So what makes me different from that little girl?" But Diana had no answer for her. Undaunted, Kula pressed on. "Come on, Diana. What makes me different from her?" *** "I'm getting back some of my memories," said K'. But what had returned was hazy and impossible to make sense of. Moreover, who could tell if they were real memories, or ones that had been implanted into his mind? Why did he go on fighting? Though he had never been to this blink-and-you'll-miss-it town before, it all looked so familiar. He walked around for a bit, and the impressions kept coming to him. But most of these were neither the ancient memories that man had told him about, nor of his own past. It was of the things that he truly did remember on his own. NESTS, KOF, Maxima, Kula, Kyo Kusanagi, Ash Crimson, Mukai.... If his true memories came back to him, what would happen to his memories of all these people and things? Then he scornfully clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Bah, this isn't getting me anywhere." He figured he could leave the worrying to Maxima. For now, he would be content to give as good as he got from any of them... Ash, Kyo, Mukai or anyone. As he walked down an unfamiliar street, he looked up at the sky, and saw a thin stream of smoke working its way upward. The clouds, too, seemed familiar to him. "So, where did this memory come from?" he thought to himself. *** As he stood on the balcony of his room, Maxima watched the sky turn colors from orange to a rich, vivid blue. Though he had quit smoking years ago, the old habit caused him to unconsciously reach a hand into his pocket for his cigarettes. Looking down, he could see K', who had been wandering idly about the town all day. It looked like he was finally coming back to settle in. Maxima stared thoughtfully at his friend, thinking of all that had happened to him. The power of Kyo Kusanagi had been forcibly made a part of his body. This left him with ties to that occult figure, Orochi. Then there was Mukai and crew, who seemed dead-set on acquiring Orochi's power. Perhaps it was possible for a man to change his own destiny. To stand against all odds and survive. Perhaps there would be more for the so-called "Second Flame of the Kusanagi." "What's with the strange look, Maxima?" K' asked as he entered the room and stepped out on the balcony. "Something wrong?" "Nah, nothing important," Maxima replied, scratching his head. "'Far beyond the mountain, happiness is what man fears'..." muttered K' to himself. "What's that supposed to mean?" K' gave a wan smile and said, "I think it means that happiness is further away and more fleeting than a wisp of smoke."

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter "I'm sorry, Yuri... if only I were in better health...," said Takuma Sakazaki. "You don't need to worry about that, Dad," replied his daughter. "I have only one regret... that I never got to see the third generation of the Kyokugen School's family..." He broke into a fit of coughing. "Master, you really should take it easy," said Robert. It had been some time since the attack on Takuma's at the end of the last KOF tournament. To further compound the problem, the Garcia Foundation was in the middle of a major project, which meant that Robert Garcia would be unable to compete this year. That left just Ryo and Yuri, and they couldn't join without a third member. "Per... perhaps King could help us out," said Takuma between his coughs. His voice had been so weak on the phone that King rushed to the hospital in a panic, a bouquet of flowers under one arm. When she got there, however, she thought there was something strange about how he looked. For a man who'd been hospitalized for about a year, his complexion was pretty darn rosy, and his muscles had shown no signs of atrophy. Yuri, on the other hand, looked like she was exhausted from having to tend to him. "A-anyway, look. I've brought you some flowers for your room," said King. Takuma looked at her kindly and said, "You're too good to me, King... but once those flowers die, my time will be up as well." Yuri responded immediately. "Dad, you shouldn't talk like that!" "Oh, it looks as though I'll never make it long enough to see the third generation of Kyokugenryu..." At that moment, a passing nurse peeked in and said, "Mr. Sakazaki, was there something you needed today? "Huh?" replied Takuma. "Uh, no, nothing right now..." "Well," the nurse said, "you always seem to be in such high spirits... it's a little strange, don't you think?" Takuma stammered. "Th-that's not true!" "Right!" affirmed Yuri. "This is... uh... just the like when a candle burns brightest just before it burns out!" Robert piped in at this point, adding, "That's right! Our master isn't long for this world!" Before the nurse could reply, Robert and Yuri shooed her out of the room. "You've got to be kidding...," King muttered under her breath, trying very hard not to let her expression betray her thoughts. "Mr. Sakazaki, it's time for your examination," said another nurse. "Dammit, why do the nurses keep showing up one after another?" muttered Robert. "Probably because it's a hospital," replied Yuri with a smirk. The nurse ignored Robert's comments and primly stuck a thermometer in Takuma's mouth. "By the way, Mr. Sakazaki," she said. "Wh-what?" mumbled the elder Sakazaki around the thermometer, and coughed. "Lately, one of the patients has been sneaking off to the drugstore nearby at night to get food... apparently, the hospital food isn't enough for him. I don't suppose you'd happen to know who he is, would you?" "I have no idea," Takuma said, then broke into another mild coughing fit. The nurse's gaze didn't waver from her patient. "Witnesses have said he wears a Tengu mask on his face... long nose and all. Are you sure you don't know who it is?" "I-I don't know." The nurse went on to further state that the man in the Tengu mask appeared to be in remarkably good health for a hospital patient, displaying strength and agility enough to easily leap over a two-meter-tall gate, and always seemed to get Japanese soba noodles from the nearby drugstore. The thermometer showed a reading of 36.5 degrees Celsius (97.7 degrees Fahrenheit). Hardly a "fever," by any definition. *** "So that's the story of when I went to pay my respects," said King. Ryo sighed. "I'm really sorry, King. Stupid old man... stupid little girl... and that moronic tiger-boy." Having chastened his entire family equally, Ryo bowed his head to King. "Don't worry about it," she replied. "So what about you? Still stuck on trying to improve your technique?" "Huh? ...Oh, yeah. My students are all away, so right now it's just me." The dojo was almost eerily quiet, and gave off a slight air of divine majesty. It was covered from wall to wall in immaculately-kept tatami mats, and the Shinto shrine had a young and healthy sakaki tree. It was precisely maintained, and almost perfectly silent. "So how's he doing, anyway? There must be something wrong if he's still in the hospital." "What, you mean his injuries from when he was attacked after the last tournament?" Ryo replied. "The main problem there was that it aggravated his old chest wound. It healed a lot faster than we expected, though. Right now, he's just in for a check-up." King looked doubtful. "A check-up?" Ryo nodded. "Well, he is getting older. I sent him in for a one-week observation, and they found some issues with his blood pressure and his liver, and so on. Thanks to that, things have been pretty quiet around here." "Well, he must be pretty bored, if he wanted to try calling me there like he did today," said King. "Yeah, most likely..." The conversation had ground to a halt, and now there was uncomfortable silence. Ryo looked about, trying to think of something to talk about. Finally he settled on something and said, "W-well, with dad's condition being what it is, coupled with the fact that Robert's got his plate full with business matters, Yuri and I are kind of stuck. We can't join this year's KOF with just the two of us, and I'm not sure any of my students are ready for that kind of challenge yet." "So what are you going to do?" "I guess we sit this one out. It probably wouldn't be such a bad idea to focus more on the administrative duties of the dojo, anyway." King gave a thoughtful "hmmm" in reply, as a gentle breeze wafted in through all the open windows. "You know, Ryo, you've probably already reached the point where you're a true master." "Huh?" replied Ryo quizzically. She smiled. "This is the ‘Kyokugen' school, right? ‘Utmost limits.' I'm saying I think you've already reached the highest point." "Not even close, King," said Ryo. "This road is a very long one, and I'm still barely a beginner. I've got mountains' worth of things I haven't learned yet." "So then fight. This isn't like you. You don't get many opportunities to hone your skills like KOF gives you." Ryo frowned. "But we don't have enough members--" King cut him off. "Would it kill you just to ask for help?" He smiled slightly. "...Yeah, you're right. Will you help us out?" *** "That's our King," said Yuri. "With my planning and acting skills, it was no sweat." Takuma sighed. "At the rate I'm going, I really will never see the third generation of the Kyokugen school..." "Don't worry, master!" said Robert. "Yuri and I can get to work on that for you!" "Mr. Sakazaki!" shouted the nurse as she suddenly had to restrain him. "A hospital is no place for a fight!" After he calmed down a bit, Takuma spoke again. "All right, on to our next plan. Listen carefully, both of you."

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter The ultimate defeat of the Kyokugen school. In pursuit of this goal, Eiji Kisaragi imposed extremely harsh training on himself. He had withdrawn from civilization, raced across the fields and climbed mountains, and inflicted untold suffering on himself in the process. None could say how long this training had lasted. Eventually, Eiji felt the time was right, and left the mountains. KOF was the only place where he could regain his lost honor. In order to participate, however, he would need to find two others of like mind. (Yes, they must believe as I do.) Though he was confident in his own abilities, KOF was only for teams... and that would require that his teammates also be enemies of the Kyokugen dogs. In other words, his efforts would come to nothing if his comrades didn't hate the Kyokugen school as much as he did. (Perhaps others suffered defeat at their hands...) At that, one sprang to mind instantly. Kasumi, the daughter of the Todo Style-user, Ryuhaku Todo. Eiji immediately set off in search of her, and upon finding her, explained his goals in an attempt to win her over. "If you were to win the KOF tournament... or rather, if you were to shame the Kyokugen School, you could rest assured that the boost to your reputation would reach Sir Ryuhaku's ears." "You're right! All right, you can count me in!" And so, since her purpose had been the same as it ever was, Kasumi joined KOF quite willingly. "If we're going to do this, there's something that I want to be sure of first." "What is that, Lady Kasumi?" "I heard a rumor that Takuma Sakazaki was beaten up by some mysterious thugs, and I want to find out if it's true." "Hmph, that can't be..." Eiji was initially disinclined to believe such tales, but he had to admit, he had been out of touch, while Kasumi had been living a more normal life, and had heard the rumor over and over again. Kasumi went to the area around the Kyokugen dojo to get more information. "Yes, Mister Takuma was assaulted by some thugs and put in the hospital." The truth of the situation quickly made itself evident. After hearing this from the housewife next door, Kasumi rushed to the hospital. *** "I'm sorry, Yuri... if only I were in better health..." "You don't need to worry about that, Dad." "I have only one regret... that I never got to see the third generation of the Kyokugen School's family..." He broke into a fit of coughing. "Master, you really should take it easy," said Robert. (H-how could this be?!) Kasumi hid in the shadows of the nurse station and slowly absorbed the shock of the situation. Takuma Sakazaki could very well never see tomorrow morning. "Oh no, what should I do...? Father won't be pleased to hear about this." "He's faking it." "Yes, his fake must be in critical--, huh? Faking it?" "Sssshhh! You're being too loud!" Unlike Kasumi, whose clumsy attempt at concealing herself in shadows could be described as "unsteady" at best, the girl who spoke was as lithe as a cat, molding her slim body to the wall and remaining remarkably inconspicuous. Kasumi received all sorts of strange looks from nurses and patients alike, but this other girl had escaped their notice entirely. Kasumi didn't really understand what the difference was. "You're the girl who was teamed with Athena and Hinako in last year's KOF, right?" "Yep, the name's Malin. Nice to meet you, Miss Kasumi." *** "Lady Malin! You would agree to assist us, then?" "Yeah. I've also been looking for others to take on the Kyokugen twerps." And so Eiji, Kasumi and Malin left the hospital to congregate at a nearby coffee house and discuss the situation. Moreover, it was Malin who proposed that they join forces, and register as the "Anti-Kyokugen Team." "That sounds fine to me, but are you sure about that whole faking being sick thing?" "Huh? Yeah, I'm really sure." Could this girl really have fallen for such blatant trickery? One had to wonder if she was completely right in the head. Malin was obviously a very forthright individual, but her mannerisms were a bit brusque, to put it mildly. "I did plenty of investigating. I'm sure of my facts." Malin picked up a paper from the nearby magazine rack, and as she looked over it, a crease marred her smooth forehead. On the first page was a compilation of photographs of the teams who were expected to participate in this year's KOF tournament. "So then, why would Takuma do such a thing...? "I have no idea." Malin produced a ball-point pen and began writing here and there all over the magazine. "Oh yeah, Malin... why is it that you hate the Kyokugen school?" "Because they complained about my fighting style, since I use concealed weapons." "Hmph, how pathetic," said Eiji. A glance at Eiji's half-covered face revealed that he was smiling. "I cannot speak on about the validity of using heavy weapons, but the use of weapons in general is part of the essence of combat. Ryo Sakazaki certainly never showed any aptitude in that regard." "Oh, it wasn't him. It was his little sister." As she spoke, Malin continued scribbling furiously. On the magazine's picture of Yuri, she had added a cross-shaped scar on her cheek and some greatly-exaggerated nostril hair, which had arranged itself into a fairly spectacular pattern. "Y-yes, well, we all have our own reasons to fight. At any rate, we shall be as one force until the tournament is over. Agreed?" "Agreed. For the honor of the Todo School!" "Okay. You can count me in." And that is how the Anti-Kyokugen team was formed, with surprisingly little effort. Just as with the last time Eiji Kisaragi had participated, he found himself teamed up with others who were hardly worthy, but for now, he was satisfied. The other two would suffice, as they were ultimately unimportant. He was fully prepared to take all of his enemies down on his own. "Heh heh heh... get ready, Kyokugen dogs... you're in for a surprise of mammoth proportions."

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter Ten soldiers in full-dress uniform gather around a gravesite, as the sky begins to release the first hints of a coming downpour. As the coffin is prepared to be lowered into the hole, a pastor reads a passage from the Holy Bible. Ralf made a quiet aside to Clark, his voice obscured by the sound of the falling rain. "No matter how many of these I have to attend, it never gets easier." "That's the price we pay for being mercenaries," Clark replied. His sunglasses were off, revealing a gloomy expression. Ralf and Clark had known each other for many long years, and each knew there was no need to say anything further. The man being interred died at the age of 59 years old. Had he lived a normal life, he should have had a wife... kids... even grandkids. He should have been preparing for his upcoming retirement, to live out his final years relaxing. However, he spent his life with guns and ammunition as constant companions, and even if he'd had a family, the lure of the battlefield would have eventually torn it apart... and he would be just as alone as before. And so it was that all who attended his funeral, save for the pastor, were fellow soldiers. The pastor closed his Bible, and the commanding officer prepares to give his order. "We have come to pay our final respects to Jim Oldgate, a fine comrade and a true hero..." Though Heidern felt certain that his subordinates grieved for the loss of a comrade, he glanced at each of them in turn, noting their unflinching, stony expressions. "Present ARMS!" All in attendance, except for the pastor, brought their right hands up to salute in seamless unison. Attending were Heidern, Ralf, Clark, Whip and Leona. Whip held a small white flower in her left hand. The casket held nothing more than a set of dog tags and another white flower. In life, the deceased had always had a preference for them. Upon his death, his remains were scattered such that it had been impossible to retrieve them. When the order was given, the soldiers dropped their salute, and the casket was lowered to the bottom of the grave. The rain began to fall harder, each drop giving off a heavy noise as it struck the empty coffin. At last, the work was finished, and the soldiers began gradually to disperse. "Ralf & Clark, I need to talk to you," Heidern said, his spotless regulation dress uniform marred only by his eye patch. He then called Whip over as well. "As you know, it's time for another King of Fighters, in which you are to participate. That is, of course, an order," he said. All of them had expected this, but they were slightly troubled by the fact that Leona was being left out of the conversation. "We've established that Mukai's colleagues are most definitely not part of the Orochi Hakkesshu." Though Ralf's concerns had not diminished, Heidern continued on. These folks most definitely had plans to make use of Orochi's power. This had apparently been why, in the last tournament, they had broken the seal on Orochi itself. Its influence had once had a devastating effect on Leona, causing her to lose her mind and become brutal and savage until she had been restored to her normal self. She had no memory of her actions in this time, but snapping her out of it had been exceptionally difficult. One other thing preyed upon his mind. "Professor, I get the feeling there's some connection between that and this mission..." "What's that?" replied Heidern. "Just before the last tournament, we received reports of a mysterious giant blimp. I think we may be able to get some more specific information on it this year." Without so much as a mild tremor in either his expression or his voice, the one-eyed man replied, "...Continue your investigations." "I see. Something about this has been bothering me." "You'll have the details as soon as I do," said Heidern. "For now, I need you to concentrate on your current assignment." "Yes, sir." "The three participants will be you, Clark and Whip. That will be all." The three of them stood at attention as Heidern took his leave. Whip was the first to speak. "Colonel, don't you think this is a little strange?" "What do you mean? "Well, wasn't Heidern lying just now?" "...So?" Whip felt that the situation merited more of a response than "So?" But she held her tongue. They were going to be the ones risking their lives on an assignment. So why weren't they being given all the pertinent facts? Didn't that just make it more dangerous? "Whip, do you know the name of the flower you're holding?" Only one of the flowers remained. In Japan, they were called "Kobushi," and were a type of magnolia. "...It's a magnolia," she said. Ralf nodded. "To put it kind of fancily, it's just about trust. I can't even begin to tell you how many years we've been with the professor. He says only what he feels he needs to say. Nothing more." Whip just barely managed to bite back a reply. "Oh, yeah..." Clark, who had been silent throughout it all, replaced his sunglasses in their accustomed position and laughed. "That's the colonel's idea of 'fancy talk." *** As Heidern continued walking, the sound of Ralf and the others' laughter made its way faintly to his ears. Now, the responsibility for commanding a national army fell to him. He was well-aware of just how heavy a burden that responsibility could be, but that was not the reason for his heavy heart. "Adelheid...," he thought to himself, "Yes, that was that young man's name." Leona walked along with him, never straying far from his side. She was soaked, but made no motion to get the water out of her blue hair. She was the reluctant daughter of a soldier. "If I can protect just one from that cursed bloodline, you will be that one..."

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter "So, Miss Kagura, you're sure you're not going to participate in the next KOF?" "I'm sure... certainly not in my current state..." Chizuru Kagura, or rather Chizuru Yata, lay feebly on the hospital bed. Shingo didn't really understand it all, but since Ash Crimson had claimed one of the powers of the three sacred treasures, she could not accompany Kusanagi and Yagami. "The only thing left I can do is pray. I don't have the strength to fight alongside Kusanagi and Yagami again..." "D-don't worry about that!" Though he thought there was actually a great deal to worry about, Shingo did his best to reassure her anyway. "But..." "You can depend on Shingo Yabuki! If you'd allow me, I'd do everything I could to help both of them!" *** "...so come on, Kyo! Let's enter with Iori! We can do it!" "Have you completely lost your mind?" Shingo had happened across Kyo in the middle of a busy intersection, and had virtually prostrated himself in begging for the Kusanagi's cooperation, to little avail. Kyo did his best to just ignore him and continue on his way. "But we've fought on the same team before!" "That's just because Kagura practically begged me to. What choice did I have? Why the hell do you think Yagami ever agreed to it before?" Kyo, Iori and Kagura had entered the tournament together once. That the three of them had cooperated at all had seemed miraculous to begin with; to think that such circumstances might recur was simply absurd. Plus, without the mediating presence of Kagura herself, it was highly unlikely that they would be able to agree on a third teammate. "Uh, if that's the issue, then I have an idea!" "...All right then. Spill it, but I'm not making any promises." "I can join up with you!" Shingo gave a smile so earnest that, if he was trying to be funny or lighten the mood, one certainly couldn't tell. In other words, he actually meant it. "...I shouldn't have bothered listening." *** At the end of a long summer day, the waning moon began to rise in the eastern sky. The air was humid and heavy. With the wind becalmed as it was, two entwined trails of smoke rose from the gravestone. A man stood before the small memorial, and the shadow of another drew near. "Are you going to leave some incense, Yagami?" "..." In front of the stone, the incense smoke mingled with that of a cigarette. Iori Yagami held it in his mouth, and both strands of smoke wound up into the sky. Without meeting each others gaze, both men stood before the grave. "How many years has it been now?" "...You've gotten even less tactful. What business is it of yours?" The two muttered quietly to one another, quite unlike their usual sharp words. The small stone monument seemed to negate their typical antagonism, and all that could be heard was the ever-present chirping of cicadas in the setting sun. "That student of yours has been pestering me every day. You need to do something about him." "I'm not his keeper. You can handle it however you want." "...Very well." Iori took his now-spent cigarette and crushed it under his foot, then took another one and placed it in his mouth. Shortly after, Kyo produced a lighter. It looked to be an antique, with metal plating which was, for some reason, roughly inscribed with English phrases. With a casual flick, he flipped it open and the wick burst into flame. He held only his right arm out to Iori, keeping his gaze forward and the rest of his body still. "Why do you feel the need to carry a lighter?" "It was a gift." Iori produced a lighter from his own pocket and, shielding the flame from the wind with his hand, lit his cigarette. Kyo softly clucked his tongue and flipped the cover shut. The area grew slightly darker. Iori turned to the side and took several steps away. "..." "You still need something, Yagami?" Just as before, Kyo spoke without taking his eyes from the gravestone. "We still haven't settled this. I'm still going to be the one to kill you." "..." "This isn't the place for it, though." "...I guess not." Kyo once more heard the sound of Iori's footsteps. They gradually grew more and more distant, until finally fading away entirely. The nearby streetlamp flickered into life. The spot where Yagami had stood looked as though it were the focus of a bleak spotlight. It was stained with the remnants of the cigarette that he had stamped out. *** The first KOF match, in Japan. Shingo was waiting for Kyo and Iori at Ootemon, a castle designated as a World Heritage site. He hadn't exactly gotten promises out of them that they'd attend... in fact, Iori had threatened his life several times. It didn't stop him from trying, but eventually, he was forced to concede. Shingo remembered his own words one week ago. "Okay, I'm including both of your names on the signup sheet! You have to come! I believe in both of you!"

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter "Hooray for Master Kim!" "Best of luck!" Chang & Choi gave a hypocritical--that is to say, blatantly false--er, rather, heartfelt cheer for Kim and Terry as they waited in the airport lobby. The path leading to this particular turn of events had certainly been a twisted one. On one of Mai's chance encounters with Andy, she lost her temper and told him it would be just fine with her if they "didn't participate," and dragged him off on a forced vacation... and Joe Higashi had been forced to abstain, as he had a scheduling conflict with a Muay Thai title match. Finally, Tizoc, who had joined with Terry last year, had already joined a different team for this year, leaving the Lone Wolf in a bit of a tight spot. It was then that he ran into Duck, looking as carefree as ever. "Hey, Terry? What's up? You don't look yourself." Flashy clothes, sunglasses, a mohawk and those high-tone dance steps. Terry felt his spirits lift slightly on seeing one of Southtown's minor celebrities, and thought he might have a way out of his jam. He replied immediately with a cheerful, "KOF? Sure, why not? Might help relieve the boredom!" Perhaps the gods were smiling down on Terry again. "But aren't we missing someone, Terry? KOF teams need three people, right?" "Yeah, I'm working on that part..." Terry planned on getting the leader of the Korean team, Kim, to split from them. Since Choi Bounge hadn't participated last year, due to the inclusion of Jhun Hoon, it made sense that he might not participate again this year. And since Jhun wasn't planning to fight this year, the Korean team's roster had was a bit short of the three needed. "Well, if we invite Kim, that ought to settle things, right Terry?" "It would be great if he joined us, but I don't think he will." "Why not?" "He's worked hard with Chang & Choi. KOF is where they've done most of their training. It wouldn't really be fair of us to cut in on that." Duck gave an exaggerated shake of his head. He looked remarkably exasperated. "Uh, Terry, you really should think a little harder." "Huh?" "Kim's students have improved themselves during KOF, right?" "..." "Am I right?" *** "Hooray for Terry and Duck!" "We just know you're going to win!" When presented with Terry's offer, Kim had been reluctant and unsure, while Chang and Choi looked as though they might burst into song and dance. Unsurprisingly, they offered much encouragement. "If you go without us, Master Kim, you can fight much more powerful opponents," said Chang. "We can use the time to train more for next year's KOF!" added Choi. They have not forgotten their feelings are just window-dressed and just want to justify it. As the three boarded the plane, they waved small flags in the lobby, wishing them a safe trip, and the like. If they'd learned anything in their time with Kim, it was that he was very observant, and was not easy to fool. "You've done a good job training them and steering them on the right path. Are you a little worried, Kim?" "Of course not. Hah hah hah!" He wore his usual smile, and seemed quite confident. Now his team would be at full fighting strength, but still... Terry considered their plans, and elbowed Kim in the ribs. He sat down and whispered quietly to avoid letting Duck hear him. "Hey, Kim. Is it okay for Duck to dress like that all the time?" "..." "If you think about his prospects, KOF could be the chance to kinda steer him right, you know? Put him on the right track." "Ah, I see... you may be right, Terry." Now that he'd been given a goal to work toward again, Kim folded his arms and pondered. Suddenly, he felt another elbow in his ribs, this time coming from Duck. "Hey, Kim. Don't you think it's time Terry stopped playing the part of the wandering warrior and settled down somewhere? As a friend, I kinda worry about him." "..." "If there's anyone who could show him the value of a traditional life, it's you." "Ah, I see... you may be right, Duck." Kim was feeling more cheerful than ever. In unity, there was strength. Now that he had new goals for which to strive during this new KOF, he could begin his preparations like always. The plane holding the three flew high above Southtown. *** "...They're finally gone," said Choi. "Yep." "Those two just don't understand Master Kim one bit, do they?" "You got that right." "It ought to be fun to see what kind of changes he's inflicted on them when they get back." "..." "..." "You know, it's actually a little bit lonely here now..." "Yeah, just a little bit."

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter "Hands up!" In a small bank, a man holding a gun called out to those around him. Most of the people did as commanded, except for a blond-haired Japanese man, and a black-haired young man, who gave each other a knowing glance, then followed suit. (You sure about this, Nikaido?) (It should be fairly simple... wait for an opening, then deal with the shotgun.) In southern France, in a small town with a population of only a few thousand. Benimaru Nikaido and Duo Lon came here to meet someone, and in order to keep a low profile, they lifted their hands above their heads. Normally, Benimaru would have made a bigger show of the robbers, but there were no women below the age of 50 anywhere in sight. It was a textbook small French farming town, with a church in the center and small shops around it. Herd farming was common, here, and cows and horses could be seen everywhere downtown. The bank itself had only four tellers, and was in an old building, so it was anything but imposing. Only the customers, including Benimaru and Duo Lon, and perhaps the robber himself, were foreign. Everything else was local. If they hadn't received an invitation from someone claiming to have close ties to Ash Crimson, it's likely that they would never have come anywhere near this place. Even though their timing in stopping by the bank to ask for directions had happened to coincide with the robbery, they were not overly concerned. "P-put your hands behind your heads and lay f-face down! Now!" The robber was obviously nervous. One could tell that his lips were trembling beneath his cap, and the barrel of his gun wavered unsteadily. No one in the bank had screamed, and the situation continued in an eerie calm. If one were to look out the window of this surprisingly homey bank, one would see a truck loaded with bales of hay, as well as multiple cows walking by. In the muted winter sunlight, the view from the window almost looked like a painting. (So, now what...?) As he lay on the floor in an undignified posture with Duo Lon, Benimaru was calm and collected, and rather enjoyed the atmosphere. Even so, there wasn't a man alive who could properly enjoy the idyllic setting with a bank robber trying to take hostages not twenty feet away. (...) (What is it, Nikaido?) (...A horse.) (What horse?) A white horse was walking in front of the window. (...That horse?) (...That horse.) Astride the white horse, there sat a woman. Though she would normally have been out of view, Benimaru and Duo Lon could easily see her face from their vantage point on the floor. She stretched and took the reins and a riding crop in hand. With her short hair and the firm set of her mouth, she gave off an air of nobility. As beautiful as she was, Benimaru felt reluctant to pursue her. Not to mention, anything he could say while lying on the floor, under the direction of a robber's gun, was unlikely to be particularly impressive. Since this was more or less the worst possible first impression one could make on a woman, he decided to make things a bit more impressive. Just as he had made this decision, however, the woman came through the front door, horse and all. She pointed the riding crop at the robber and shouted. "Drop your weapons and surrender! That is an order!" Her voice rang out clearly in the still air. It appeared she was not speaking solely to the robbers, though. After several moments, the villagers-turned-hostages began to speak. "Mademoiselle Blanctorche!" "Lady Elisabeth!" Though her voice gave off a palpable feeling of comfort, it was also plainly evident that she held absolutely no compassion for the robbers. "Y-you bitch! You want this gun right in your eye?" *** "Gah, still can barely see. Are you okay, Duo Lon?" "Yes." And just like that, the robbery was over. Through some unknown ability, the woman called Elisabeth had summoned some intense light, leaving robber and patron alike stunned and trying to clear their vision. Once one could see again, the robbers were already tied up on the floor. The police were there shortly thereafter, and they took the robbers away while seeing to the hostages. In the course of all of the police interviews and the like, the whole ordeal went on for quite some time, though the event itself had been fairly straightforward. Some time earlier, the woman called Elisabeth stood before Benimaru. As before, she stood regal and proud. Benimaru introduced himself and Duo Lon, then proceeded in his usual fashion to try to win her over with lighthearted conversation. "Well, I know you were a bit busy with stopping those robbers, but I had hoped to get to have a word with you." "Is there a problem?" Elisabeth flatly and fearlessly declared that if he had any strength, he should've taken a stand back there, rather than groveling like a dog on the ground. "Hey, that's a bit much, don't you think? We had to consider the hostages' safety." "Big words for someone who was just on the ground." As effectively as a slap, Elisabeth had effectively muzzled Benimaru. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Duo Lon and Benimaru Nikaido. I appreciate your taking such pains to see me, but I'm afraid the house of Blanctorche does not associate with cowards. I bid you good day." As the words were leaving her lips, she was already turning and walking away. Benimaru gave a small whistle. "I always knew the French were proud, but that was just snotty... No denying her looks, though." "Shouldn't we get her to wait?" Duo Lon called out to Elisabeth's retreating back. It was exceptionally rare for him to do anything of the sort. "Ash Crimson has obtained the power of Chizuru Kagura... the Yata's power..." Elisabeth stopped in her tracks. "..." "So, you know about that." "And you've done your homework. Just as one would expect... for a former member of the Flying Brigands." "..." "Ron (Long) says that their village was destroyed, but even so..." Then Benimaru cut in. "I have a question. You've learned the proper names of Kusanagi, Yagami, Mukai and Orochi, correct? We were part of last year's KOF. We know some things you don't." "...Very well. Let us discuss this." "In spite of our previous dialogue, I wanted to talk to you about joining our KOF team." "Make your offer and I'll make my decision. Old man!" An old man, who had previously been holding the reins of the horse just outside the bank, respectfully came over. "Since you'll be returning first, please show these two the way to the mansion." "As you wish, milady." "Later, then. Hah!" As she said this, she mounted the horse and took off like the wind. The scenery seemed an ill fit to the 21st century. "She has always been a rather stern type. I do hope you weren't too offended." The old man bowed his head in assent. Both of his hands held the reins. Just ahead, two horses stood tied. "Once through this pass, you'll find the mansion. The horses know the way. Now, if you would..." He led their gaze to the cart, led by two horses in fine condition. "Horses." "...Horses." The two walked with the horses back to the house of Blanctorche, and finally made it there as the day reached its end.

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter Dublin, capital of Ireland. The new old city, developed successfully for untold years. Though it was once covered with glaciers, the ocean currents blessed it with relatively mild winters... or so it once was. "You're lying, Shen." "I did say 'relatively' mild, Ash." Ash gathered his coat closer to his body and tried to keep moving. Pleasant though it could be, this city was on the same latitude as Moscow and Hokkaido. When it got cold, it got SEVERELY cold. The two missed Grafton Street and entered an alley. Ireland is full of pubs, and this alley was crammed to the gills with little signs. The two made their choice and opened the door. There were dozens of barstools and tables. It was not yet evening, but there were still a few patrons. Just as one would expect of an Irish pub, all of the patrons were locals from the neighborhood, and the atmosphere was calm and relaxed. At one table sat a middle-aged-looking man, lining up cards. "Hey, Ash, how about him?" "Maybe." "Hey, you... uh... 'Are the clover in bloom?'" The man looked up from his game of Solitaire and fixed his gaze upon Shen. "...I take it you have an appointment with someone." The man wore an expression of doubt. "Bah. Guess not. Sorry, old man." Ash had already taken a seat at the bar. "Hmm, I heard the stout is good, but do you have anything to help me warm up?" The bartender behind the counter looked up from mashing potatoes and gave a warm, friendly smile. "When it's this cold, the best thing in the world is an Irish coffee. You a traveler, then? Welcome to Dublin." "Yes, give me one of those." A hot cocktail made of sugar, whole cream and coffee in an Irish whiskey base. In no time, the scent drifted out to fill the pub. "If you have time, I'd like to take you on." The old man called to the two while cutting the deck of cards. On closer inspection, it became apparent that the man was rather tall. Although he was slight of build, he did not appear weak. He gave off a sense of hiding his own motivations, but he was exceptionally polite. "Heh heh heh, all right. Let's go a round!" "I swear. You never could pass up a chance to gamble, Shen." "How about poker? Or is bridge the local game?" "That'd be English. Poker is fine by me... so shall we?" The two were dealt five cards each, lined up as flawlessly as if they'd been measured out with a ruler. "Now that the cards are dealt, you may place your bets, though I suggest you aim low at first. Open the game." "..." Shen's expression shifted. Far from the confident smirk he wore before, it had crumbled into disappointment. Ash gave a lighthearted laugh, but this was hardly unusual. It was a strange comparison with the middle-aged man, whose face may as well have been carved out of granite. "I'll bet, of course." "...Why not fold?" "Are you nuts? I can't back out now." All of the discarded cards were now facing up. King, 5, king, 5, 5. "That is a shame. To the next hand, then?" The middle-aged man silently and skillfully collected the cards. "You know, Shen..." "What." "You do know what a poker face is, right?" "What do I look like, an idiot? Of course I know what it is." "All right, then." The gentleman shuffled the cards with the dexterity of a master stage magician, then had Ash cut the deck. It had a pleasant, dry sound. "You're pretty amazing with those cards. I'll bet you could make a pretty penny with those skills." "You flatter me." He began to deal the cards again. "By the way... 'Are the clover in bloom?'" "Hey, Ash, he heard it the first time." "'They don't bloom until spring.'" "Wha--... you ass! Why didn't you reply when--" "Open the game." Shen grumbled under his breath and examined his cards, only to be disappointed once again. "Dammit!" "Oh, come on, Shen." "Yeah, yeah, poker face, I get it, I get it. I still want to know what's going on." "There's time for that later. First, let's finish playing. I'll bet." "Heh, there's a shock! I fold." "Raise." The gentleman laid down another bill. But there was no sign of any paper money or chips on the table. Because of the tint of the man's classes, it was impossible to read his eye movements. Or maybe he'd calculated that angle on purpose? "Hmm. Well, I'll raise also." "I'll see that, and raise again." "Another betting round? In that case, I'll raise one more time." Though the two had both elected to raise the stakes, the table still bore no sign of money or chips. Having come this far, the gentleman was left with no other options. He took a sip from his whiskey glass. "Okay, Ash, what the hell were you betting on?" "So that we could get him to take part in the KOF tournament with us. Didn't I tell you?" "No, you didn't. So what happens if you lose?" "I'll just owe him money. But if I win, he's going to participate in KOF." "Heh, neither way sounds like much of a victory to me." "I couldn't pass up a chance to bring a Karnoffel player out of retirement, now could I?" Karnoffel? He'd never heard the word before, but the old man interjected before he could ask. "All is well, then? Showdown..." Shen peeked at Ash's hand. Jack, queen, 7, 7, 7. Three of a kind. "...It would appear that I lose." For the first time since beginning to deal, the gentleman's expression changed, and he drained his whiskey completely. "My name is Oswald. I'll do what you ask of me." Oswald shook each of their hands (though Shen did so only reluctantly), and the deal was done. "If we're going to talk further, we should go elsewhere." As the three stood up, the barkeep came by to tidy up after them. Ash left a sizable tip. "It was quite good, sir. Merci beaucoup." Oswald's cards lay where they had been left on the table. Oswald had his coat on, and was already headed for the exit. Once they left, the atmosphere of the pub became light and genial again, as was usual. The barkeep lifted the face-down cards of Oswald's hand. A spade, a club, a heart. Three aces. As he stood and inclined his head in puzzlement, Oswald reappeared. "I'm sorry. I forgot my hat." Oswald took his had and pushed up his glasses with his middle finger, staring at the barkeep through them. The back of the barkeep's neck suddenly broke into a cold sweat. "Farewell, then..."

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter "Wow, it's been a while... how have you been, Athena?" asked Sie Kensou, practicing. He had just returned from a year of training with his master, Chin Gentsai. His face was more stern, more mature. His body was stronger and more limber. In other words, he had made a massive transformation into a man of true strength. He had further refined his skills with the Psycho Power as well. He had begun the long walk on the path of the warrior, and what now remained was to get his mind in step with his body... Though, if one must be honest, this was pretty much strictly his own opinion, and he didn't look particularly different. Even through he had grown in many ways, he was still the same old Kensou. Meanwhile, Athena had been staying at a boarding house as she trained for the next KOF. He rummaged through his bags and pulled out a small carton, stuffed with steamed meat buns. "Meat buns...," said a small voice. It was then that he noticed a little girl sitting demurely on the sidewalk, with a teacup in her lap. More to the point, he noticed that if he raised the carton, her gaze tracked it flawlessly. Same for if he moved it right or left. She was clad in loose-fitting clothes, and her delicate hair was tied with a pink ribbon. Her eyes were large, her features young. He figured she must be from the local grade school... sixth grade at most. The intensity of her stare at the carton almost seemed to cut the air like a blade. Kensou looked from the carton to the girl and back again several times, then gave a long, heartfelt sigh. *** "I'm Sie Kensou," he said, "But you can just call me Kensou." "I'm Momoko!" the little girl replied brightly, as she attempted to eat the largest meat bun she could possibly fit into her tiny hands. On further reflection, Kensou thought maybe she was in fourth grade, tops. "Hmmm," he said, and leaned down to her. "Momoko, are you lost?" "No!" she said vehemently. "I just can't figure out how to get back to my house." That's pretty much what 'lost' means, Kensou thought to himself, smirking. But that's the kind of lesson that probably would only come with age and experience. "So where is your house?" he asked. "Can you think of anything close to it you might recognize? Any landmarks?" She appeared to think about it for a moment, then said, "Yeah, there's a park with three big cherry trees in it." Kensou smiled. "Oh, okay. I know exactly where that is... I'm headed that way, actually. Want me to take you there?" "Yes, please!" she said. The day was clear and sunny, the air fresh and brisk... a perfect day for a walk, really, and they talked as they went. "...So anyway," Kensou was saying animatedly, "she's a big pop idol, but she's really in love with me." Momoko only replied with a thoughtful "hmmm." As they crested a gently-sloping hill, the sight of a well-kept little park greeted their eyes. There grew three old cherry trees... no doubt that when Spring arrived, they would be a considerable draw for sightseers. "She's never said so, especially since her singing career took off, but I can just tell, you know?" he went on. Momoko (perhaps showing wisdom beyond her years) gave only a noncommittal grunt. "She's also a really good fighter... not quite as strong as me, though." Finally the little girl spoke. "Yeah, you compete in the King of Fighters, right?" Kensou was pleasantly surprised. "Wow, you know more than I thought," he said, and thus emboldened, he went on. "We've never been picked as likely to win the tournament, but that's due to that alcoholic and senile old man who insists on fighting with us all the time. He always held us back. "Even though I'm considered a prodigy as a Psycho Soldier, I could only cover for his mistakes so much, you know?" he said, puffing up his chest slightly as he did so. "We also have other kids around us, not to mention the panda. You don't know them, of course, but believe me when I say they can be a real handful." "Oh!" said Momoko, interrupting and pointing at the park. "There's Athena!" "Huh?" said Kensou, startled out of his own speech. "There you are, Momoko!" Athena called sternly. "Where in the world have you been?" She broke into a run toward them, and Momoko ran to meet her. When they reached each other, the little girl was swept up into a hug. "You had me so worried!" Athena continued, then glanced over. "Oh, hi, Kensou. What's going on?" Kensou gave her a crestfallen look. "We haven't seen each other in a year, and that's all the greeting I get?" Having been away for so long, training so hard to improve his skills, he had been hoping for a slightly more dramatic (maybe even passionate) reunion... but alas, that did not appear to be in the cards. "So you know this girl?" he asked. Athena looked embarrassed. "Oh, I guess I should introduce you two. This is Momoko. She's going to be competing with us in this year's KOF tournament. She came with the master's highest recommendation." "Huh?" was all Kensou could muster in reply. "I've already processed our entry!" the idol singer continued brightly. "Me, you and Momoko are going to be the 'Neo Psycho Soldier Team!'" Neo? thought Kensou. What's with this 'Neo' thing? I know the Psycho Soldier team didn't enter the last tournament, but what difference does that make? The master wasn't here, and neither was Bao. "So we're babysitting, just like with Bao, right? She's just a grade school kid. Has the master finally gone completely senile?" Kensou asked, not bothering to hide the scorn in his voice. "I am not in grade school!" snapped Momoko. "What, middle school then?" he replied. "I find that hard to belie--" Momoko cut him off. "Try high school, hot shot." Kensou stared, dumbfounded for a moment. "Hi-high school?! No way. Something as violent as KOF is no place for some grade-school looking little--" Now Momoko was starting to get mad. "I just told you, I am not in grade school!" Once she had ceased her protest, she gave Kensou a strangely mature smile which did, in fact, make her look a little older. She turned to Athena and got her attention. "What is it?" Athena replied. "You're a pop star, right?" Momoko said. "Mm-hmm," Athena confirmed. "It's what I do for a living. Why do you ask?" "Aaaaand is it true that you're in love with Kensou?" Athena only chuckled. Kensou, on the other hand, choked as though he had inhaled his drink, even though he hadn't actually been drinking anything. He knew exactly what this supposedly innocent-looking little girl was about to say. "And he's also considered a prodigy as a Psycho Soldier, right?" Momoko continued. Athena have her a quizzical look, but said, "...Uh, maybe...." "And your master's an alcoholic who just gets in the way?" Athena now began to look distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, I'm not sure about that...." "And Kaoru's really ill-tempered and can't figure out when she's not wanted?" Now it was Athena's turn to look mad. She turned and said, "I think it's time you and I had a little chat, Kensou." Kensou blanched and said, "Wa-wait! Athena, listen to me, it's nothing like that..." *** And so it came to pass that Athena confirmed the Neo Psycho Soldier team for this year's tournament. It would consist of Athena Asamiya, Momoko, and the "Prodigal Psycho Soldier, Sie Kensou."

King of Fighters XI _Fight-A-Base System Character Chapter At the direction of their leader, B. Jenet, the Rilian Knights, a self-professed noble band of thieves, the decision was made to participate in the always-mysterious KOF, in hopes of being awarded the considerable cash prize for the victor. Jenet herself was the sole daughter of the current generation of the Bahns, one of the world's richest families. She was not content, however, to play the role of the pampered daughter and stay locked away in seclusion. True to her upbringing, she made her decision on KOF quickly, and already knew of two available members: a wandering master of Chinese martial arts, and a professional wrestler. *** "Hi, there!" Jenet said cheerfully. "You're Gato, right?" The object of her attention looked at her silently for a long moment, then eventually answered, "And if I am?" He was a Chinese man called Gato, whom people tended to cross the street to avoid when they saw the strength in his entire bearing. Those who gazed into his piercing eyes tended to be left only with the impression that a sword had been aimed to pierce their skulls. ...Or so the average person would say. Jenet, being anything but average, continued without a hint of fear. "I was thinking that you should join up with me to participate in KOF this year!" When Gato did not respond, she went on. "I figured we'd split the proceeds 60-20-20... more for me, you know, to cover all the added expenses and for being the organizer. We can meet on the Rilian Knights' submarine." More stony silence. "Oh, all right," she sighed. "We can split the money evenly. That should be that!" "Get out of my way, girl," Gato said. Those passing by watched the exchange nervously, and felt some anxious concern for possibly massive changes in Jenet's well-being in the next few minutes. Just from the looks of things, there appeared to be no way that this could possibly end peacefully. Jenet gave a slight pout. "Aww, still not interested? Well..." Gato brushed forcibly by her, but she kept her pace even. "Maybe some information about your father, then?" she called to him. Gato froze in his tracks. "...What are you trying to say? How much do you know about me?" She grinned. "The Rilian Knights are no slouches when it comes to gathering intel!" Despite her confident look, however, she was at least halfway bluffing. She knew that Gato was searching for his father to settle a grudge, but that was about the extent of it. Truth be told, anyone who knew even a little about this man would know that much. It was finding out anything more that was the problem, and that's why she was banking on her bluff working. "Are you familiar with the Kyokugen school of karate?" she asked. It was a foolish question, of course. The name was well-known among anyone with even the slightest interested in weaponless martial arts. It was an orthodox school which was largely picked as a favorite to win the KOF tournament any time it was held. One of its oldest masters, Takuma Sakazaki, was well past the age of fifty, and showed no signs of his age even beginning to slow him down. In light of that, when he was attacked by thugs and put in the hospital in critical condition, word spread quickly throughout the whole of Southtown. "Just from hearing the name alone, I can't believe it," came Gato's curt reply. Jenet shrugged and said, "I don't know all the facts myself, but if you help me out, I think we can get to the bottom of this." Gato gave no reply. "So how does this sound?" she asked. "Proceeds split 40-30-30, and info on your father. What do you say?" *** "So you see the kind of predicament I'm in," Jenet said through her tears. "That man has basically forced me into participating in KOF... there's no telling what he might do if I don't agree." "Hmmm," said the big man in front of her. "That sounds pretty serious, yeah. So what do you want me to do?" This all transpired in the wrestlers' waiting room, right after a major bout had been concluded. Even though the room was fairly spacious, the big man was none other than Tizoc the Griffon, and his 7' tall form made the place feel like a broom closet. Normally, spectators wouldn't even be allowed in here, but she found it childishly simple to slip in, just by carrying a big bouquet of roses and pretending to be a big fan. Well, and the judicious use of her ability to shed tears at will. "I know a little bit of martial arts and stuff myself," she sniffed. "But..." She further elaborated that in her condition, it was going to be difficult to even get past the first round, but having to fight on the same team as Gato was causing severe anxiety. For the last several days, in fact, she had been unable to eat or get a decent night's sleep. Tizoc nodded. "That kind of behavior is despicable indeed. One should always fight for the childr--" He then cut himself off. "Never mind. Your story has moved me. I will do what I can to help." He folded his tree-trunk-like arms together, and nodded firmly, reiterating, "Yes, I understand what's going on. I'll join you." "Huh?" Jenet replied with a puzzled look. "That's all it takes?" "Did you say something?" he asked distractedly. "Oh, uh, nothing." He shrugged. "I also know that there's a substantial cash prize for the victors of the KOF tournament. I've been wanting to allow children to watch my matches without having to pay for them for some time. I can use the money to have special Griffon Seats made for them. " He failed to notice her expression, which had shifted from simple puzzlement to near stupefaction. "I-I see... well, the prize is getting split 60-20-20." He gave another nod of his massive head. "Money isn't the issue. Spirit is." Jenet nodded in return, in full agreement. Absolutely. "On the other hand, if my share were increased, I could put it toward an orphanage I know that's going through some tough times." This time, it was Jenet who was left to return stony silence. "No, don't worry about it," said Tizoc at her look. "I'll find some other way of helping them manage their expenses." She sighed. "...Okay, okay. I get it. We'll split it 40-30-30. That's the best I can do." *** "Welcome back, Captain!" came the call from one of her crew. "How did it go? Did you get Gato and Tizoc to join you?" For once, Jenet had no answer. "What's the matter? They refuse to join or something?" "No, no, that's all taken care of," she said. "It's just..." "Just what?" Jenet took a moment, then gave a calm, collected reply. "Life can be a little rough sometimes." She gave a small laugh.

King of Fighters XI Adelheid Bernstein Chapter Roughly a year ago, after a sightseeing flight, the giant airship known as the Sky Noah returned to the dock where it was initially built. A pale young man with crimson eyes signed the official paperwork distractedly, without taking any notice of what was on them. "Okay, Master Adelheid," the dock manager said. "We should have everything up and running normally and get it back to you within two weeks." He spoke as quickly as civility allowed, then made his way to the outer docks. It was autumn in Warsaw, and the pavement was wet, with thick, heavy clouds streaming across the sky. As he rushed into a nearby store, Adelheid sensed the presence of someone standing behind him. It was a man, clad head to toe in a military uniform, giving off an air of extreme precision. "Did you remember to ride the tram?" "...Yes, thanks to you." *** Winter in Poland always comes early, and although they were now in the middle of what they referred to as "The Golden Autumn," and the flowers were in full bloom, the looming presence of the harsh winter to come could still be felt across the continent. Two people stood side-by-side, walking down the street. The storefronts looked to be carrying on traditions and history dating back to the Middle Ages, though in fact, much of the city had been destroyed in the Second World War. "It's been a year, hasn't it? ...Quite a coincidence." "Yes, it is," Heidern answered calmly, keeping the crisp, measured pace of a soldier. Had he come to deliver good news, or was his presence here truly just coincidence? "You're here on business, aren't you?" Adelheid's gaze fixed on the man's extremely formal uniform. Though even a child would know him to be a soldier at a glance, he wore no emblem or seal declaring what country he served. "In a manner of speaking. It's for a funeral. He was a subordi--," Heidern cut himself off. "He was a friend of mine." A long period of tense silence passed between the two men. It conveyed both familiarity and nervousness. A small bird swooped in and alighted on the ground between them, looked around for a moment, then flew away again. The two continued their walk toward the nearby archway. As they neared the branch of the Vistula River, they heard the shouting of a child from beneath the arch, "I can't do it, dad! My arms are going numb!" "Don't give up. It can take a while. See there, it's getting closer to the boat. Reel him in. Once you get him in the boat, put the end of the pole back in the water before you cut the line. Do you understand?" A boat was drifting slowly by under the bridge. A man and boy were in the boat, obviously father and son, and the boy was struggling desperately with a fishing pole, trying to reel in a sizable catch. His pole looked more like a toy, with a poorly made reel attached by steel wire. Only the fishing line itself appeared to be of any quality. Even so, it was fairly miraculous that it hadn't broken by now. Though neither of them understood Polish, it was easy enough to figure out that the father was instructing his son how to reel in the catch and not to let go, under any circumstances. Sure enough, the child ceased his complaining and focused on trying to claim his prize. The father turned the boat precisely and continued giving instructions to the boy. The boat gradually drifted around a hundred yards downstream from the bridge. It was possible to make out a large, silver fish that the father was trying to extract from the boy's excited hands. The boy fell over onto his backside, hands still clutching the fishing rod. They were likely shaking, judging from his flushed face and ragged breathing. Adelheid took in a slow, deep breath and calmly let it out. "Ah well. I wonder why the man didn't lend his son a hand with that, though." "Because he's a father." A small, beeping alarm sounded from Heidern's watch. Adelheid gave him a sidelong glance, and upon seeing his expression, suddenly felt as if something clicked into place... as though something suddenly made sense. Was it the role of the parent to teach the child everything there was to know in life? "I envy that boy," Adelheid said softly. "I have no memory of my father ever teaching me anything. And no matter how hard I try, I don't remember ever having anything like that fishing rod, either." "I see," came Heidern's neutral reply. "Do you ever fish?" As the sun went down, the surface of the water glittered like a mirror. The two in the boat had long since floated downriver, and there was merely a point of light where they had been, reflecting back up from the sun. From the same direction came the sound of a helicopter's whirling rotors. "...I do," said Heidern. "I'm pretty good at it, in fact. I like to go after the big ones." The very faintest hint of a tremor was in his voice, but it was lost in the din of the nearing helicopter. Finally, it hovered just overhead, but Heidern seemed completely unaffected. Adelheid, on the other hand, had to bring an arm up to shield his face against the roaring wind. A rope ladder fell from the now-open door of the vehicle, and Heidern took ahold of it. "You never wanted his name... Adelheid Bernstein." As one, both men felt a sharp pain stab their hearts. It was ending somewhat... no, exactly... as had been expected. In the midst of his pain, Adelheid found himself at a loss for words. As he rose above the silent young man, Heidern called down to him. "When next we meet, it will be as enemies." *** As the helicopter ascended further and flew in the direction of the setting sun, Heidern took his seat, closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, very unlike his typical, taciturn self. "...I don't remember calling you. The pilot must have gotten orders from elsewhere." Ralf and Clark sat in the cockpit. Ralf had lit a cigarette with his well-worn lighter, and Clark wore his usual shades and grasped the stick, gazing off at the Polish sunset. Ralf looked at him nervously. "The colonel and I still have a mission to finish, sir. We had to get going. I hope you're not upset." "I see Leona and Whip are not here...." "I was thinking the three of us could go out drinking. I gave the under-30s something to distract them, so we're in the clear." "...Very well. Nicely done." Heidern thanked the two quietly. A sweet smell filled the cabin, a scent quite unsuited to a personal airplane. As he opened his eyes, he noticed a large, white flower tucked under one of the seat belts. Ralf pondered for a moment, then turned to Heidern. "By the way, commander, do you know any romantic way to say ‘flowery words'?" "...I have no idea." Clark gave Ralf an incredulous look. "Colonel, why would you think a military man would know anything about that?" Ralf flushed, practically lunging for his neck. "Oh, shut up, Clark! I told you to stop trying to embarrass me!" Clark began to panic a bit. "W-wait, Colonel! I'm still trying to keep us in the air! Do you want us to crash?!" The magnolia flower, so foreign to the interior of a helicopter, was caught up in the wind and shaking of the aircraft, and blew away. "Who knows," thought Heidern, "Perhaps it will land in the boat of those two we saw earlier." With that, he closed his eyes once more to catch what sleep he could before arriving at their destination.

King of Fighters XI Magaki Chapter Back when the Earth itself was named Gaia, there existed a being which represented its will, named Orochi, a creature which suffused the far east, particularly Japan. But the earth's will was not represented by only one emissary... Rumors abound as to how many actually exist, ranging from ten to as many as one hundred. Moreover, it is said that each of these representatives was characterized by a particular attribute. While Orochi was considered to be a force of nature, having originated in Japan, others were not... most specifically, the emissary from Western Europe. It had a group of loyal servants, much in the same fashion as Orochi had the Hakkesshuu. These servants lacked a formal title, and were simply referred to by a plural pronoun... "They" or "Them." They hated all of humanity, with a fury like that which some humans held for wolves. From the outset, They actively sought to harm humans, and nothing could assuage Their hostility. Various Western religions over the centuries have attempted to explain what They were, and some tales persist to this day. They are most frequently thought of as "devils" or "demons," and they were feared and offered sacrifices, to appease them and keep them from rising up in force against humanity. Or indeed, against God himself... However, as human society has grown and advanced, the balance of power has been tipped. The people of Ancient Europe were able to gradually find and kill Them, eliminating them as they would criminals... or more accurately, as they would animals. Standing in stark contrast to the attitudes of Asia, which tended to prize living in harmony with nature, Westerners quickly began to lean more toward the attitude of conquering nature and using it for their benefit... for after all, were they not superior to all of nature? After several hundred years, the gruesome details of the horrors that They had inflicted upon humanity had faded, and people came to believe that the "demons" had been completely exterminated. During this time, They waited, overpowered. From pre-historic times until the 7th century, They slowly diminished, fading away as a stream to a dry gully. As time passed, evidence of their actions or existence could no longer be seen. Such was how one of the Earth's emissaries was rendered utterly powerless. *** And here, the story moves forward to modern times. Because the events told here are fairly recent, it is unlikely that many still remember it. In the year 1999 AD, the planets of the Solar system moved into what is known as the "Grand Cross" formation... and the next year, into a Planetary Alignment. The results of this are already known. One cult made many proclamations about the significance of these astronomical events, but they both passed without incident. Before and after each of them, there were reports of all manner of strange phenomena, but these were almost uniformly debunked as hoaxes and/or unrelated coincidences. Here, we seek to verify the authenticity of the photograph included in this document. A Federal department kept records of this information in 2000, and continues to maintain them. In the middle of the photograph, there are seven or eight humanoid figures, and the testimony from local witnesses claims that they were people from space. (These claims were considered baseless for several years, and were thus never investigated.) Look carefully at the people in the photograph. These people (assuming of course, that they are actually humans) were involved behind the scenes of 2003's King of Fighters global fighting tournament. Their leader in particular, a man who called himself Mukai, sought to break the seal that had been placed upon Orochi. In addition, the woman on the left appears to be the very woman who somehow mind-controlled the head of the Yata clan, which has always stood in opposition to Orochi. This has been verified by the appropriate investigators. In light of the details of said matter, it is my firm conviction that these people managed to make use of those rare astronomical occurrences to leap forward in time. Given that we have evidence of their appearance at various points in history, I do not doubt that these are the same individuals. Now, to conclude. They refer to themselves as being from the ancient "His Distant Land," or rather, "His Ancient Land," to be more precisely accurate about it. I hope you won't think my theory to be preposterous. It would most certainly provide us with a key to unlocking the connection between these two seemingly-unrelated events.... *** "...You're a reckless fool," said a man, his body covered in strange tattoos, which shed an undulating blue light. With his huge eyes and abnormally long limbs, he gave off the impression more of some kind of insect or reptile than a human. With his left hand, he held a crushing grip on the throat of another man. The documents that he'd held in his right hand fell to the ground, rustling and scattering like leaves. There was a cruel snapping sound, like that of stepping on a dry twig, as the hapless man's neck was broken. Another man, with a slender body like that of a woman, stood beside the alien-looking figure, sank to his knees and began skimming over the documents scattered around. "...That was close," said the effeminate man. "He didn't say if the report was legit, but we may not have long to finish getting ready. If it really is official government stuff, that leaves us with about a year. Either way, we can't keep much of a low profile anymore." "Mukai said he had eliminated all humans who saw them... damn careless idiot," came the reply, in a voice as thin and reedy as the arms of the man who spoke them. "Well, what are we supposed to do, Magaki? Just by us being here at all, time is against us, and someone will put the pieces together." "By that, I assume that you intend to stand by Mukai, regardless of the consequences...?" said Magaki, as his appearance rapidly shifted to that of a normal human. Shion simply shrugged his delicate, womanly shoulders. "You realize," Magaki continued, "what will happen to anyone who opposes me... even you or Mukai." Even now that he looked like a perfectly normal human being, he was still possessed of a fearsome presence. With a sound like that of ripping paper, a thin hole tore itself open in midair. Inside it was empty space, featureless beyond being a somehow-indescribable shade of pale violet. Without even a sliver of discontent showing on his face, Magaki set one foot inside the tear. Shion sniffed. "I ain't opposing you. I'm satisfied as long as I get to fight someone that'll get my blood boiling. But you tell me this, Mister Magaki, don't you think you oughta take humans a little more seriously?" "You disappoint me, Shion," Magaki replied, sneering. "Parroting Mukai now, are you? You should consider thinking for yourself." The hole in space began slowly to close. What lay beyond it, none but Magaki could say. "'Full of potential,' he claims. Ridiculous," thought Magaki, and his arm bent at an angle impossible for any human to replicate. "No matter," he said aloud to no one in particular. "If any of them survive to face me, we shall see just how much 'potential' they truly have." And with that, he was gone.

King of Fighters XI Shion Chapter Shanghai, 3:00AM. Ash. Last year, for the sake of assembling a team, Crimson had traveled to the Far East and visited a single "person." This person had a slender, knifelike body, clad in Chinese clothes, and long black hair. Though the clothes would indicate that this was a typical woman, they hid supple and well-trained muscles, capable of hardening to steel. ("To know your enemy is to win a thousand battles." Hah, unless you get your information straight, you're as good as dead.) Her, or rather his, name was Shion. It was a reasonably modern name, but he had grown accustomed to it. Though he had been initially been quite surprised at how humans had propagated, further observation showed that it was not so different from the old patterns. No matter what tools they used or what they built, it ultimately changed nothing. "Murderer!" The look of the stores and houses on the street had certainly not changed from ancient times, but the shouts of an angry crowd could be heard. Shanghai was always crowded, but something was going on in front of a large building. The shouting seemed to be coming from a gathering of humans, most of which were festooned with cameras and microphones. "...Oh, it's a trial of some kind," thought Shion. The doorway was surrounded with security and a few lawyers as the defendant emerged. His mouth was curled into a rather unnatural shape, and his clouded eyes easily showed him to be the sort of human with no regard for anyone or anything else except for himself. Shion had seen this man before. There had been stories about him all over television and magazines, regarding his role as a suspect in a serial murder case. He had just been confirmed to have killed eight people indiscriminately, and had been captured during his attempt to kill a ninth. Among the people standing before the wall of security people, a lone woman stood, shouting with a force that seemed almost otherworldly. "Murderer! Murderer! He deserves to die! Who knows who else he'll go after!" she screamed bitterly. The verdict had been released today, in fact. Due to a problem with some of his medication, he had suffered a nervous breakdown, and he was to serve thirty years in prison. Still, he was only in his twenties, and he could rejoin society again in his fifties. The woman was practically begging those around her now. "Please... someone kill him... I beg you... anyone..." She found Shion's sleeve in her desperate fumbling about. "You could do it! You could kill that bastard! Just make sure he suffers to have some small idea of what he's done to others!" The woman's hair was dry and unkempt, and her makeup had long since departed with the flood of tears, on top of the untended runny nose. In her eyes, the wild eagerness and maddening grief were quickly melding into outright insanity. "Back off," Shion said scornfully. "And shut up while you're at it." As he pushed her away, his gaze happened to meet that of the defendant. Suddenly the man began to laugh. Shion stopped pushing the woman away, and instead, drew her closer. "Hey," he muttered. The woman gave a muddled and confused reply, "Wh-what...?" "You're in luck. Wait right here," he said, and gently pushed her away. Even so, the woman could sense remarkable strength in this strange person. She walked, however unsteadily, back toward the ring of blurred faces and flashing cameras. Shion looked around and surveyed his surroundings carefully. The building next door was under construction, and a pile of iron pipes was plainly visible. Industrial tools, cutters and sanders. True to reputation, there was no place in Shanghai that was free of congestion. He nodded in satisfaction. "This should do nicely, I think," he said, picking up an iron pipe and taking it over to the industrial cutter. Sparks flew, and after three seconds, the pipe-turned-spear had a slanted point to it. Lifting the pole in his right hand, he tested it for balance, and found it to be suitable. No one was even paying him any mind. Their attention was fixed solely on the defendant. The humans' collective hatred for this man was almost palpable, rising up into the sky like smoke. Shion tilted the spear slightly, gazing upward to the point where the sky met the roof of the building. An airliner passed overhead, and the roar of its engines blocked out all other sound from the air. In that "silence," Shion hurled the makeshift spear into the air. Cohesive sound returned to the world once more... "!!" It had been just a moment too late, and the last vestiges of the brute's scream rang out through the streets. The spear had described a flawless parabola, accurately piercing the man's back at a downward angle. So powerful had been the strike, that the spear had driven itself through his back, into his abdomen, emerged from his right thigh just next to his crotch, and finally embedded itself into the ground. He had been skewered. As the scream died on his lips, his abdomen gave way, spilling its grisly crimson contents onto the concrete steps of the courthouse. Though he was stuck like a pig on a spit, and the color was rapidly draining from his face, he appeared to be looking around for Shion. Shion turned to him and made a point of showing his long, flowing hair. In that moment, the man's breathing stopped, and his head and arms went limp, as though he were nothing more than a poorly-made toy. After a moment of stunned silence, the area suddenly took on the appearance of a beehive, with all the chaos and panic on display. At the rear, one person slipped away unseen. Some ducked and looked around fearfully. Some vomited where they stood at the gruesome sight. The chaos this wrought would not be contained. "Y-you... murderer...," came a small, shaky voice. The woman was still at Shion's feet. He fingers shook and her teeth chattered with nervousness and fear. Gradually she came to, and saw his eyes. His heart was not even remotely stirred by this. The eyes were as calm and unconcerned as those of a shark as it fed. They revealed no emotion... not concern, not joy, not even contempt at the scene. The people here meant nothing to him. He had killed simply because it had amused him to do so. "Y-you're a murderer...," she muttered, now with more strength. In spite of her shock, the woman had gathered up enough strength to call out to the other humans, but they took no notice of her. They had borne witness to an "accident" of spectacular proportions, and were now as dangerous as a flock of birds. With an expression of complete and utter lack of interest, Shion turned his back on the woman and walked away calmly. "'Difficult knowledge is always hard to grasp...' Bah. After a thousand years, you'd think these humans might've evolved a little bit."

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