DARK CRESCENDO Chapter One: Gatherings This work is copyright 1998, 1999 by Asako Hisamatsu. All rights reserved. All characters, events, maneuvers, etc. are, where applicable, copyright of Psikyo, SNK, or Capcom. The music included is "Live in Future" from Toaplan's Tatsujin-Ou/Truxton II, composed by Yuge Masanori. The MIDI was sequenced by J.B. {sugawara@dges.tohoku.ac.jp}. There are various other shmup themes at his site {http://www.dges.tohoku.ac.jp/~sugawara}. ***Stockholm, Sweden, March 10, 1997, 3:44 p.m.*** "Flight 322 from Nagoya is now disembarking..." Hunding Thien paced back and forth in front of the airport, anxiety clear on his face, even through his ample complement of greyish-brown facial hair. This was an event he had never expected to receive, and, therefore was not prepared for. The announcement from the intercom only added to his anxiety. I didn't think I'd see him again...and I somehow think I was hoping on that...but what I heard, about him so recently...did I underestimate him, somehow? Hunding's pacing quickened by an additional fifty percent, and his blue eyes gained a similar amount of discomposure. "Take it easy, Hunding. This is no way to greet your sister's son." Hunding turned towards the black-haired, red-suited Italian man next to him. "Varrius, you don't seem to understand my anxiety. My nephew has not turned out at all the way I thought he would ever since he, my sister, and my brother-in-law left for Japan. I still don't know whether or not to believe our correspondence." Varrius grinned, creasing his moustache and slight beard. "I seem to recall your being relieved when you found yourself rid of Anna." "But do you have any idea of what this could possibly mean? The repercussions? And if the words we heard were true--" "Oh, shush. The President will know what to do. Take it from his best friend." Varrius pointed to himself with an air of mock arrogance. "I'm still concerned--" "UNCLE HUNDING!!" Hunding spun towards the voice, while a bemused smile formed on Varrius's face. A young brown-haired child, just barely in his teens, ran towards Hunding, with two youths in their twenties--a white-haired, strongly built man, and a slender woman with her russet hair set in long ponytails and whispy bangs--desperately trying to catch up. Almost instantly, Hunding's expression changed from worry to delight as he allowed himself to hug the child. "Chris...I thought you'd be staying in Japan all your life..." Chris released himself and grinned. "Fat chance with the kind of competition we're getting back in Japan. Shermie and I finally convinced Yashiro to forget his vendetta with the Arashi Samurai and try an international tour." The white-haired man scowled on hearing this, which elicited giggles from both Chris and their female compatriot. "I suppose the introductions are up to me. Uncle, meet my comrades in quality music, Nanakase Yashiro and Shermie LeMieux. Yashiro, Shermie, this is my uncle, Hunding Thien." Shermie stepped forward and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Thien. Chris told us plenty about you and your advances in the cause of world peace." A slight smile graced her face. "An interesting occupation for the vice-president of Kraken Technologies." Yashiro, in the meantime, had just noticed Varrius, and was regarding him with his usual suspicion. "Just tell me who Hunding's friend here is. The president of Kraken, I hope?" Varrius laughed quietly. "Very good. I am indeed Varrius Cicolini, president of that august company, the perfection to which even the keiretsu of your nation look up." Yashiro's gaze and frown narrowed further on hearing this speech. Hunding could not help but laugh out loud when he saw this reaction. "Come on, Yashiro, that's his normal demeanor! He loves to play the part of the high-and-mighty king of the hill-city with self-deprecation. Just let your sense of humor run free, and he'll be no trouble for you." Yashiro relaxed some, but he still seemed to be in a negative mood. Hunding turned to Chris and Shermie. "Is he always like this?" A collective sigh came from the two. "I'm afraid so, and it has nothing to do with nationalism," Shermie said. "Although our fledgling record line has been doing very well, the band houses have kept replacing us with the Arashi Samurai--I guess everyone likes extremely raucous music these days. Yashiro is still taking it personally." She leaned close to Hunding and Chris and whispered. "That's why we're doing this international tour. Since we're something of a unique quantity outside of Japan, no one will think to boot us off for anything else. We just hope that a new success in live music will raise Yashiro's spirits." She resumed speaking in her normal volume. "Of course, first we've got this little gift for Chris and us to follow up, right, buddy?" A wide grin formed on Chris's face. "I'll say! Nine days to relax, explore the fjords, write songs...now that's paradise!" For once, Yashiro smiled, turning towards Chris as he spoke. "It should be paradise...if only because we have no Arashi Samurai to contend with. Iori, Minoru...don't even think of coming here!" Pure ecstasy was visible in his reddish-brown eyes. Varrius chuckled quietly, and gestured away from the airport. "I suggest we continue this 'discussion' at the Thien complex, shall we? We might as well have someplace isolated to talk the music business." As the retinue filed into Varrius's car, a single figure watched from a shadowed area. As the car left for Hunding's home town, the figure raised a hand and clenched, creating a spark of electricity that would have brought plenty of attention had anyone been able to see the shadowy entity... "All here, at the appropriate time. It's all working to our gain. Pity the poor fools who destined this..." ***Osaka, Japan, 11:52 p.m. (3:52 p.m. in Sweden)*** "Hey, where is he...?" "Yeah, come on..." "We want his autograph!" "I got flowers for him from...Fujimori Omatsu...self proclaimed 'biggest fan'..." "Uh-uh. I'm going to marry him! You can't be a bigger fan than that!" "Like hell you're going to, Sasanomi!" "People, people!" Itsuki Minoru kept trying to wave the crowd to silence, pretty much to no avail. "You should realize by now that the man you're all looking for never travels with the rest of the Arashi Samurai!" Derisive laughter floated out of the crowd that had cornered the Arashi Samurai outside the band house. "I think I know why. He may be antisocial, but compared to you, Minoru, he's a carnival clown!" A scowl of fury etched itself on Minoru's face, while the three other bandmates with him giggled quietly. They shared the critic's feelings. "Yeah, great as the band is, it could do better without you, Minoru!" "I know. How did you blackmail Akisachi into letting you onto the actual stage?" "Hey, let's replace him with Nanakase Yashiro! You'd never know the difference...until you noticed how much better a certain backup guitar was." "And the band's press releases..." "Kiyotada, Megumiko, Akisachi...don't worry too much. You and Iori are tops. You still keep Minoru far in the background..." "Very far." Minoru, understandably, was steaming. Iori, where are you? Cleaning up these knuckleheads is your forté. Yagami Iori, however, was very far from all this--specifically, already at the southeastern outskirts of Osaka, while his bandmates were still trapped near the city's heart. By his calculations, they had been stuck for forty minutes now. It did not really matter much to him. Sighing quietly, he lit a cigarette, and inhaled upon it as he looked up at the cloud-covered sky, where neither star nor moon could be seen... "I suppose you would always be good at avoiding your fans." Iori did not deign to turn towards the source of the voice, continuing to stare into the night sky. "Hello, Chizuru." Kagura Chizuru walked up to him. As she did so, a west wind began blowing in, blowing her thin mane of black hair forward over her shoulders. Just as Iori's form radiated apathy, so Chizuru's form radiated the responsibility associated with containing an evil by herself. "Where are the rest of the Samurai?" A grim half-smile. "Still trapped with the usual fan mob. It's been forty minutes so far. Probably thirty-five minutes of grilling Akisachi and Megumiko on their upcoming wedding, and five minutes trying to find out where I am." Iori took another drag of his cigarette. "My own personal fans have been getting very pestiferous lately. Especially one named Toyotake Sasanomi, who thinks she's going to marry me!" Iori snarled, and hurled the cigarette to the ground, sending a tiny burst of violet flame after it. The cigarette was completely consumed within six centimeters of the ground. "That foolish woman...what do I care about love?! There's no room in the world for happiness! All there is is pain, suffering, despair, and humiliation!" A few short wisps of flame could be seen flickering about his teeth and nails. "Are you really sure, Iori?" Chizuru looked a little confused. "Your own bandmates certainly seem to have a different opinion." Iori closed his eyes in response. "All I can do is hope that fate is not cruel towards Akisachi and Megumiko the way it is towards nearly everyone else. And certainly not towards me." Now Iori's eyes seemed to emit fire. "You could say I'm a worst case scenario. I personally want to know what I did in my past lives to deserve all this...to deserve being born a Yagami...to deserve being humiliated by my lineage-only father, to be always compared against that fool Tsuruchi...to deserve being cursed with the knowledge of the Ya Otome technique...to deserve the hereditary vendetta against the Kusanagi, so that I must fight even those I bear no ill will against, like Saisyu...to deserve being at the Orochi's mercy...to deserve being vulnerable to the Bloodriot!" Iori spun around with such rapidity and violence that Chizuru actually found herself taking a startled step back. "You say that I'm destined to rescue the world from Orochi in this day and age! Tell me, Chizuru, do I look like a hero? Well, even if it disappoints you, I am not Terry Bogard, not Tsang Chun-Li, not Sakazaki Ryo, not Kitasono Ryu, not Athena Asamiya, and most definitely NOT Kusanagi Kyo!! All...I...am..." Iori rasped, "is a man broken from birth and always collapsing." He stared hatefully towards the northeast. "What can that fool Kyo know of my agonies? He has the love of both his parents, a practically destined girlfriend, many friends...And me?...Minoru scorns me, Akisachi and the others are afraid of me a little, my father detests me, and I can find no succor in the cheering of our fans." By now, Iori's countenance had degenerated into sullen self-hatred. "Face it, Chizuru. I am as nothing. I have little to lose, and less I can ever gain." "No, Iori..." Chizuru said, her voice halfway between normal and whisper. "You still have potential for greatness. And your will is greater than you think." Iori glowered at her. "I'm serious! You probably don't realize it, but when you and Rugal's secretaries were fighting Goenitz, he was continually trying to put you under the Bloodriot. I could feel the attempts even in my half-conscious state. Iori...the only reason he succeeded at the end was that he used the energies his death released to power a final attempt. Only Orochi itself could do better..." "It still doesn't matter." Iori clenched a fist and closed his eyes. "Ever since Goenitz died, I've felt something--for all I know, Orochi-kisama--pressing at my mind, whispering words of rage and destruction. And every time, I've come perilously close to reexperiencing the Bloodriot..." Iori's face became cast with terror and sickness. "And one time, while fighting one of the usual mahoutsukai determined to wipe out my family, I actually did fall under it. It was brief, but I remember the helplessness as my cursed blood made my body take the mahoutsukai, and completely destroy him. His flesh was shredded like coconut, his skeleton completely splintered...I've slain the mahoutsukai and their mercenaries before, but this...I actually felt pleasure in it!" Chizuru clutched the collar of her jacket as Iori finished his words, his eyes still blasted with self-horror. Tears began to well in the corners of her eyes. "Iori...you're still being too hard on yourself...the original Yasakani blood is strongest in you than it ever was since Hiroto made the pact 660 years ago. If you could learn to trust yourself, you could overpower your Orochi blood consistently...you could restore your line to what Yasakani wanted..." "But what good am I, still? I'm completely alone, basically friendless--and no, my fans don't count." Iori turned away from Chizuru, and began to walk away, but then looked back over his shoulder. "You may be right about my being important to sealing Orochi off in this century. I'd certainly be more than happy to repay him for my cursed blood. But other than that..." He breathed a sorrow-tinged sigh. "I am glad for at least one thing. You, unlike everyone else, even Akisachi, actually understand me. But I am, and always will be, a desolate man. There is room for no one." Chizuru watched Iori walk away. When he was no longer in sight, she turned away, and forced herself to choke back a sob. He truly was alone, if he could not bring himself to accept a true friend... ***Northern Sicily, Italy, 4:06 p.m.*** "Okay, a few basic points you ought to have remembered." Siobhan Conaghan walked back and forth in front of her fallen foe, brushing her auburn hair with her nunte while punctuating her remarks with her sai. She seemed aptly dressed for the battle in the copse, wearing a light green blouse, dark green pants, gloves, vest, and short cape, and dark brown boots. "One, defense is very important when facing a psychokineticist like myself when there's this much loose debris around. Two, any needlessly extending extremities, organic or artificial, are nunte bait. Three--and this is most important--never, ever try to pierce my Soul Shield with anything thrown. Do you understand my points?" During the entire lecture, a slight smile had been on the Irishwoman's face, an indicator that she was just trying to lift her foe's spirits. Rose nodded while smiling in turn and rolling her eyes at receiving a lesson from a woman at least fifteen years her junior. "Yes, I understand. I must admit, though, ever since you received that invitation to KOF '97, you've been drilling everyone else--me, Terry, Andy, Mai, King, Dudley--nonstop." "What do you want me to do, practice against total strangers who might want to cripple me out of the tournament? Remember, several of them are scared of the possibility of facing me in there. At least this time, I probably won't have to worry about any sort of emergency keeping me out." Siobhan emitted a sigh of annoyance. "I just don't believe it. Katsuda sends a message saying he's found Yousai's killers--and since three people would be too much for the mission, I need to come alone--I have Kasumi take my place on the team, and what do I receive? The worst pummeling I've ever had, courtesy of Sukune's beetle mechs! And no Onyx Samurai or Garlon! At least Katsuda apologized for the false lead...but I did miss my chance to be in the tournament." Confusion was clear on Rose's furrowed brow. "What I don't get is what got you to enter in the first place. I know you have a particular distaste for single-elimination tournaments." "The King of Fighters tournaments, at least when Geese wasn't running them and throwing illegal wagering and other such non-niceties into the mix, have always been between three-member teams. Kind of emphasizes cooperation and such. There isn't quite as much antagonism as I see in a Street Fighter tournament...no offense, Rose." Rose smiled graciously. "I've no reason to be offended. I only entered to find Bison and put an end to his corruption." Some sadness entered Rose's face. "Believe me, Siobhan, you don't want to face Bison's form of Ler Drit. It's totally corrupt to match his corrupted psychokinesis...and I swear he included some mahou in it as well. I only barely survived our battle. And Bison...Bison was able to walk away and leave me as dead." Shivers of dismay and fear shook Rose through. Siobhan chuckled gently. "Consider yourself lucky that Bison was the deadliest foe you had ever faced. After all, Mai, Andrew, and I get Yasuhiro for a primary nemesis, Terence's got Geese, and those three and Joe had to put up with some fellow named Laocorn Gaudeamus who got himself possessed by MARS, of all things! I'm still amazed Terence survived his battle with the freed Mars...and yes, the thing was ultimately defeated." Rose blinked several times. "Defeated an apparent war-god...if so, then...perhaps...no, that would be imposing." Siobhan stepped towards Rose. "What is it? What are you thinking about?" "For a moment, I thought Terry could help me remove Gill from his throne." "Oh, yes," Siobhan smiled. "The self-styled God reborn, the Lord of the Elements. Trust me, you've told me everything I need to know about him. I really doubt he'd compare to Laocorn or Mars." "You're sure?" "Very. Just remember that Laocorn and Mars were defeated by four of the world's greatest warriors. I'd say they can take Gill out without too much effort." "Still...it's not the time yet." Rose tightened her shawl. "As much as I dislike the thought, Gill is stabilizing the world a little with his constriction of the underworld to his organization's goals. We must wait until he's helping the world no more." "Bah, leave him for now. Mai and Andrew are expecting us back at the lakeshore, and King and Dudley will be arriving tonight. You might as well test their strength today." Rose smiled, and nodded. "I could use the distraction..." She then looked northward, a faraway look in her eyes, remembering one of her own who had done the greatest sacrifice against Gill, with the greatest potential good... ***Outside the Thien mansion, on the coast near Hallstavik, Sweden, 5:41 p.m.*** Varrius had left the others in the mansion to take a walk along the coast. It was his custom to take a brisk, 30-minute walk in the outdoors just before twilight every day, wherever he was. It was his way of clearing his mind of all the heaviness his position forced on him...which was considerable. The sea air, and the calls of the terns and plovers, made him oblivious to the man approaching him... "Cicolini!" Varrius spun to face his accoster. When he saw the man, his eyes widened a little, then narrowed rather severely. "What are you doing here, darkling? You should remember that you're not permitted to associate with me or any other high-ranking memb--" "Please," the large man snarled. "You and I are on the same objective for now. I merely came to warn you that I've already started ensuring that our targets will be eliminated very briskly, and that you might want to remain at a distance if you don't want to get in a crossfire." Cicolini hissed in anger. "You should know that we are still looking into our discoveries, Urien. We have found important anomalies with respect to the remaining Marids. We simply cannot do any eliminating yet...unless you're willing to risk the death of innocent bystanders..." Urien chuckled cruelly. "Varrius, you fool, you should know that I am already convinced that we have the appropriate quarries. I have already found two assassins with more than enough power to destroy the Marids we found, whatever may transpire. Out of what little respect I have left for..." Urien spat. "...your liege, I am warning you, and Hunding through you, to vacate yourselves when the time comes--and you will know when it comes. I am otherwise not responsible for your fates." Varrius's anger came to a head. "I'll be happy to take responsibility for THIS, though! PRISMATIC AURA!" A scintillating shell of multi-colored light suddenly appeared around Varrius, the edge where Urien would have been, had he not somehow been teleported away before the shield formed, as Varrius found out when he ended the power. He hissed in anger, fury flashing through his violet eyes. "You won't have it your way, basilisk. You simply will not." ***Inside the Thien mansion, 5:52 p.m.*** "You want to do...what, again?" Yashiro smiled across the library where the four were chatting at Hunding. "I'm planning to use everything I've researched on the Orochi legend, and similar myths from around the world, to create the ultimate in rock operas...and quite a coup over the Arashi Samurai." Yashiro ignored the way Chris rolled his eyes. "And you won't believe what I've found out. For instance...I believe you know how Orochi is depicted as an eight-headed, eight-tailed dragon?" "Yes, Yashiro. I know plenty about Japanese mythology." "Well, I found a story which suggests that this hydra-Orochi is really an emblem of eight fell warriors who served a powerful, corrupt spirit, all of them trying to conquer the world so Orochi could remake it in its image. To achieve this, eight maidens--the Kushinada sisters--were to be sacrificed so their dormant ki could be absorbed by each of the eight, and allow them to bond with their corresponding Tenmashin." "Tenmashin? I've never heard that term before." "I found it in a rather obscure work--I think there's only one copy in existence, held by Councillor Asahina Hitomi. Anyway, the Tenmashin were Orochi's eight supernatural lieutenants, one each for the elements of Fire, Sound, Electricity, Wood, Water, Earth, Metal, and Air. These eight are perhaps better known to you by the names they used among humanity--Kali of Earth, Kingu of Electricity, Morrigan of Metal, Moloch of Fire, Hiisi of Wood, Tlaloc of Water, Anshar of Air, and Hecate of Sound. They were all charged with catalyzing humanity's self-destructive impulses so Orochi could get its hegemony all the more quickly." Hunding whistled. "Eight mythological gods...and given their provinces, I can see how they would have done their work! Anyway, if I remember the story correctly, one Kushinada was not sacrificed, but saved by Susa-no-o, who slew the dragon Orochi. How is this going to be different?" It was now Chris who spoke. "The actual legend talks about two mystic warriors, Kusanagi and Yasakani, who fought the eight warriors, Kusanagi with his sword and Yasakani with his mystic fire, and the priestess Yata who helped rescue the last Kushinada. However, the three would still have been defeated...had Hecate not turned against Orochi." "Turned against Orochi? So Orochi didn't choose the most heartless of the gods for its Tenmashin?" "No way. Hecate, Tlaloc, Morrigan, and Hiisi had all been conscripted against their will. It was first Hecate who found an opportunity to get out of Orochi's service, because the Kushinada who was to be sacrificed to her was instead rescued. Therefore, she could avoid possessing her corresponding warrior. As a result of THAT, that warrior regained her free will, and recognized the foulness of Orochi's mission." Shermie stretched out in her chair. "You can probably guess the rest. The sound-warrior joined Yasakani and Kusanagi against the remaining seven warriors, and forced their Tenmashin to give up. Orochi was prevented from awakening to our world, and with its influence slowly waning, Morrigan could also escape her dark duties...and Tlaloc and Hiisi start their own attempts to corrupt humanity into a dominion of their own. Although, Hiisi met plenty of successful resistance by the other gods from the word go, and Tlaloc's plans were destroyed with the fall of the Aztec Empire." A smile was now clearly visible on Hunding's face "You have to get Councillor Asahina to consider getting her volume published. Can you imagine the popularity of the retelling of one of Japan's greatest legends? Hitomi would make a killing!" "One problem, though." Yashiro smiled. "She happens to be very clannish about her collection of works--it took me a while to get her permission to look into the tome. Anyway, what comes next sort of touches on ourselves personally. You see, the sound-warrior, Yagami, fell in love with Yasakani. Kusanagi felt concern over what the issue of his friend and a former Orochi warrior would be like, but he would not prevent their marriage. When Yagami first gave birth, she yielded a twin son and daughter. The daughter, Kagura, became a great researcher into and warrior against the forces of those Tenmashin who remained loyal to Orochi. However, the son, who took Yagami's name as his own, still carried the Orochi Trace, and was subject to occasional possessions by Moloch, whose warrior had been defeated by the first Yagami, and only Kagura was able to help her brother get out of those fits. The second Yagami's children were again a son and a daughter, both of whom had relatively mild traces of Orochi power. We don't know what happened to the daughter's line, but in the 1330's, one of the son's line, Yagami Hiroto, made a fell pact with Moloch, to gain power like that used by the true fire-warriors of Orochi. He used this power to wipe out all of his closer relatives. His power, though, ravaged his sanity, and to this day, all of his descendants--including, we think, YAGAMI Iori--have been afflicted by a general detest for humanity." A slight frown appeared on Chris's face. "That reminds me, Yash. We all know that Minoru--you know, your near-mirror image?--has been the biggest problem for our live concerts, being at the lead of almost every usurpation attempt. Why did you want to humiliate IORI, and not Minoru?" "Simple. Iori was in the KOF '96, Minoru wasn't. And can you think of some other way to humiliate somebody around the world than a sporting event like that?" Hunding, in the meantime, was in a state of deep thought. Too deep, Shermie thought, as she watched him. There's obvious worry on his face. Like the mention of the King of Fighters is calling up some unpleasant memory... "You plan to WHAT!?" Both Shermie and Hunding whipped their heads towards Chris, who was staring at Yashiro with disbelief. "You heard me," the white-haired rocker smiled. "We'll try to get into KOF '97 and flatten Yagami--or, if he's there for some odd reason, Minoru--and just get our revenge a year later than planned." The same look of bliss from the airport was on his face. Shermie blew into her hair, which had already started to fall in front of her small eyes. "Uh, Yashiro-kun, I think you meant 'your' revenge, not 'our'. Chris and I are perfectly content with living and letting the Samurai live. Why can't you do the same?" "You can actually take their mockery peacefully!? The zenith was ours before THEY came on the scene. It was ours by right!" Hunding raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think you should be asking the fans about this? They decided they liked Iori and his band better than you, not this Minoru you seem to hate so much. Besides, Shermie herself said that your record line was doing fine. Can't you rest on those laurels?" Yashiro was about to start his response when Varrius fairly blew in, dismay clear on his face, his eyes directed at Hunding. "Hunding...we've got to talk. Now." Hunding nodded towards Chris and his comrades. "If you'll excuse us..." Chris and Shermie nodded back in response--Yashiro was too busy composing the next piece of his anti-Samurai diatribe. Almost as soon as the two older men left into an adjoining room, Yashiro began trying to convince Shermie of the rightness of his ways. Chris, knowing from experience that intervention would be futile, decided to try to eavesdrop on what Varrius was so worried about--after all, it did concern his uncle. He carefully leaned to the outward edge of the threshold, straining to listen past Shermie and Yashiro's "conversation"... "...is planning kills on them, then get Rose to find someone to help out here. How hard can it be?" "Very hard. How willing do you think the President is to contact her? He's not exactly buddy-buddy with the Prism! It may take me a day or two to get his authorization!" "Do what you must, Varrius. I'll do my part by ensuring that Chris will be in at least good battle-shape. What better way to protect--" At that point, Chris noticed that Varrius was turning so he would face the threshold. Chris quickly ducked away from the doorway, and retreated to his chair, pretending that he had been engrossed in his bandmates' debate, which he in reality had heard around twenty times before in some variety or another. Around five minutes later, Varrius and Hunding came back in. Chris noticed that Varrius was a lot calmer than when he came in, and Hunding wasn't any more or less worried than before. Well, maybe a little more worried. He quickly walked over to Hunding's side. "Uncle, what's wrong?" "Nothing of immense import. Varrius and I can handle it...but I'll need to see you later this evening." Chris noticed that something was eating away at Hunding's fortitude. "Maybe you had better rest for the evening...I'll be only too happy to cook for us. It's one of the few ways I have of being unassailable by Yash. Say, Varrius, are you going to be eating here tonight?" Varrius smiled. "Of course. Hunding and I will be conversing on this problem far into the evening. There's no way I'll get back to Stockholm tonight." "All right then, I'll have to prepare food for five. Now let's see..." "Oh, Chris," Shermie interjected--Yashiro had finally left her at a loss for rebuttals. "I noticed Hunding's growing some eggplant here. Try making something with that as a major ingredient. I mean, since I had to swallow this swill..." Shermie grinned evilly at Yashiro. Again, a rare, slight smile from Yashiro. "Only if it includes plenty of celery as well." "HEY!!" Soon, a new debate, this one culinary in nature, broke out between the two. Even Hunding had to grin at the proceedings. Chris chuckled, then whispered to him. "Three words: Benedick and Beatrice. I suppose I'd better start finding recipes and ingredients before they try to drag me in for 'expert opinion'." Varrius nodded, barely avoiding breaking out in laughter. "Go on. It's not often I get this sort of entertainment for free." Still grinning, Chris sprinted towards the kitchen, already rummaging through his mind for appropriate dishes...and what he had heard Hunding and Varrius discussing. Clearly, they were attempting to stop some sort of assassination, and they thought he might be of assistance. Apparently, they had heard about his training under Asahara Kisada. Still, Chris was apprehensive about having to go through this. Especially considering the sort of killing field he had once gone through in Japan...he preferred not to think about what had nearly befallen him...and definitely not that black-and-white-armored samurai... ***Near the central Norwegian-Swedish border, 6:01 p.m.*** "Now, come on, everyone...HEEEEAAAAVE!!!" Clark Steel and Leona Heidern merely grunted in affirmation as they helped their comrade, Ralf Jones, work the pulley bringing the massive piece of machinery up to their ledge. They were busy cleaning out a ruined bunker that once belonged to NATO back in the 1960's, now suspected of being targetted for use by a terrorist group. A NATO official had contacted their commander, Maidret Heidern, to acquire his troops' services, mostly because their legendary battle skills might be needed in case those selfsame terrorists came back, as was rumored. Secrecy had been given as being extremely important on this one. The piece of equipment being hauled up was an example of why. The device was at least decades ahead of its time--the core of a power system that apparently used superconductors which could operate at two hundred kelvins. It was clear that whoever had overseen this project had access to some decidedly interesting technology. "Keep it up...unnnhhhh...I suppose this is what we get for taking such menial work..." "Oh, quiet, Ralf...umph...part of the deal was that we would get blueprints for the less advanced devices--like the ones we could actually make ourselaaAAACCKK!" Clark had suddenly lost his footing on the ground, and fallen with his arms getting pulled forward a bit by the resulting recoil in the cable. Ralf and Leona quickly steeled themselves to take in the recoil from the pulley. Despite the added difficulty, the three were able to, in a few more seconds, get the generator to the ledge. With the newest piece of equipment safely brought up, Ralf checked on Clark. "Still all right, Clark? How much strain did you receive?" "Not THAT much. Still, I'm glad this was the last piece. I can rest my arms to tomorrow morning...um, that is when the NATO helicopters are coming to pick all this up, Commander?" "Yeah, it's still on." The Argentine mercenary glanced around himself. "I'll be glad to be out of this coldfest, though. Commander Heidern said that our next mission will be to disable one of SLORC's shipyards--they're apparently building some sort of super hydrofoils there, to blow off anybody who might nose around for human rights abuse evidence or drug traffickers. I'd better keep my journal extra-detailed for that one--I can smell an action movie in that mission." The looks he received from Clark and Leona quickly made him decide against that decision. Ralf noticed that Leona was looking a bit distant just now. She had been this way periodically ever since that pesky robot-fest in the Amakusa Islands. And he still couldn't get her to talk about her trauma there..."Hey, Leona. Is everything all right?" A shiver could be faintly seen in Leona's face. "I...I don't know. It's like when Goenitz tried to...to..." She shuddered at the memory of how Goenitz had tried to awaken her dormant Orochi force after she and her comrades had lost in the KOF '96 to Yagami Iori's team. "It's like a convergence, and growing stronger somehow. Like some great, foul entity is preparing to come here." Ralf and Clark looked at each other with concern. After their rather unsuccessful attempt to keep Goenitz from disrupting KOF '96 and the last battle between Iori's team and Kagura Chizuru, they knew better than to doubt anything relating to Orochi. Ralf turned back to Leona, and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Relax, Leona. Even if it is Orochi, how's it going to get out? I mean, Goenitz is gone for good, and the Orochi force is sealed off. What could possibly be happening?" Terror remained on Leona's face. "Yet...I feel as though...Orochi's kept the door wedged open a bit...just enough for someone to help it out with enough effort..." ***Unknown location in Sweden, 6:22 p.m.*** Edward Gargrave scowled at one of the two men in front of him. "I know I told you several times that Onyx here and I are sufficiently skilled to avoid killing unnecessary targets. Now, you have made perfectly clear to us who the Marids are, so I don't see why you bothered telling Varrius what we were up to!" "Quite simple, Garlon," Urien smiled, using Edward's nom de'guerre. "I wanted to make it perfectly clear to Mr. Cicolini that I would not tolerate the presence of him or Hunding at wherever you choose to make the killings." "What are you so worried about?" "That Hunding and Varrius might be able to impede your progress. I realize you two should be able to handle them...but them and the Marids both? I very much doubt it, and those two idiots are probably self-deluded enough to attempt to protect them. I happen to know Varrius's power from experience, which is why I think all five would be too much for you. In all events, you must not let them bar your way! I have done my part by warning them off--they might have enough sense to abandon those three." Garlon tightened his grip on his sheathed cutlass. He resembled a 19th-century European soldier in full colours with his dark blue, black-trimmed outfit, and his cultivated blond mustache and goatee. The only thing out of place was his Australian accent. "That's not much justification. Before, Varrius didn't even know what we were up to. Yes, Hunding had some inklings as to your plans, and Varrius's men and elementals could have detected us as we tracked our quarry...but the fact of the matter is that he now knows precisely what we have in mind--remember, he's trying to do something about the Marids too! Just not necessarily killing them, but maybe whatever it was Hunding underwent. Now, we can expect plenty more resistance than if you had deigned to keep quiet on this." Urien's visage darkened, apparently hardening in the literal sense of the term. "You know the power I command now, Garlon. Do not tempt me to expose it to you in all its glory by questioning me." The third man chuckled quietly from behind his face-covering mask, his voice filled with electrical static. "You're not going to try attacking us, are you? Gargrave's thaumaturgy or my swordsmanship would each be a somewhat troublesome battle for you to handle. Together...you'd have no hope." His eyes--the only part of his face visible--narrowed with obvious warning, framed by his kabuto, lacquered in black-and-white striations like the rest of his do-maru. Hence his name, the Onyx Samurai. "The alliance between us isn't that strong, remember. Try not to tempt us to abandon it and put you back on the 'valid target' list." Onyx crossed his arms, and tilted his head to one side. "Although we really must be thankful to you, for finally helping us find out who the remaining Marids were. Our major goals are safe now." "Once we slay our targets, that is." Gargrave sighed, and drew his cutlass. "Well, I guess we'll just have to make do with the new obstacle our friend's forced on us. It's hunting time." Garlon turned back to Urien, and frowned. "Just hope what you've done doesn't wreck our work irrevocably." Urien snickered. "You give too little credit. It's not as severe as actually questioning me, but under the right circumstances, I could still consider such an offense worthy of my greatest punishment--" "I will assume you don't mean your overly presumptious personality." Edward gestured towards his fellow assassin. "Let's go." ***Thien Mansion, 7:50 p.m.*** "There's got to be a good rhyme for this line..." Shermie scowled at the incomplete libretto in her hand. Her latest song idea was at no loss for a good melody--Yashiro had seen to that, and was busy separating it for Ukuuchukan no Mikoto's various members. The coda of the libretto, though, was not coming along nearly as swiftly. She hoped Chris's project, was doing better. Somehow, he always got his librettoes working quickly. The fact of the matter was, Chris had already finished that project, natural poet that he was. But Shermie would not be getting his assistance, since he was occupied with a more pressing matter, and Varrius was just about to ask a favor of her... "You want to see what I've learned from Kisada-sensei?" "Why yes, of course." Hunding waved his wand down a little to emphasize his point. He and Chris were on the rocky shore near the mansion, ready for a practice battle. "I'd heard about your newly-found martial abilities, and I wanted to match them against my own pyromancy. After all, finding Kisada will be a bit difficult from here." "Well...all right." Chris smiled a bit. "I just hope you keep the heat down a bit." "I'm not going to risk killing my own nephew." Hunding settled into a battle stance, his wand extended like a short sword. "Ready?" Chris nodded, then immediately started a dashing elbow strike. Hunding lunged forward to get in the first blow. However, before he could react, Chris blinked out, and immediately blinked back in, now sliding, right at his feet. "I'm down here!" Chris called as he swept Hunding down. "And now...up! Comet Sunderer!" Hunding quickly spun around with his wand extended and trailing coppery flame. Chris yelped in surprise as the force of the blast carried him up into a vertical arc of flame. At least the copper flames aren't any hotter than a hot water bath...Chris vaulted back upon landing in order to get some distance for his next strike. Hunding was ready. "SOLAR PIKE!!" he called as he jerked his wand forward, causing several explosions of copper fire to materialize in a line in front of him. Chris threw himself to his left to avoid the blasts, then leapt up. Hunding attempted another Comet Sunderer, hoping to catch him again. Chris, on the other hand, thwarted him by attacking him too quickly for the attack--by blinking in mid-air into a diving kick. Hunding's turn let him avoid most of the force, but he was still rendered a bit unsteady by the glance he had received. Chris took full advantage and grasped him, going into a comma throw, but suddenly changing on the ground to a handstanding foot launch. Chris got back up from the Aerial Drop at about the same time Hunding hit the ground. "That's good...but you haven't seen most of my repertoire yet!" Hunding immediately did another Solar Pike, watching as Chris neatly phased away from the line of fire, then immediately summoned another to catch his path. Chris gasped in disbelief as he plowed right into the copper fire, and only barely managed to keep his footing--which he immediately lost as Hunding quickly slide-kicked him from his left. Fortunately, he recovered just as he heard his uncle's next attack... "Fog Splitter!" Chris looked up to see Hunding above him in the air, sweeping his flame-covered wand straight down. He elected to stay in a crouching position. When Hunding was just a third of a second away from striking, Chris revealed what he was planning--a powerful ascending fist strike to the chest that knocked Hunding out of the Fog Splitter and to an initially unsteady stance on the ground. "Bravo, bravo!" Hunding smiled at Chris. "Now...what's your answer to this? Storm Sweeper!" A sphere of copper fire formed around Hunding as he rushed Chris, who merely deflected him with an upraised, protecting leg. "I'll just have to use most of my power." Even as he spoke, Chris rapidly blinked several times towards the recoiling Hunding, creating a burst of orange ki each time he rematerialized. The second blast caught Hunding, who was then helpless to avoid the remaining six. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath. "I...I'm fine...I think I'll just have to rest here for a little while." Hunding laid his head on his wand arm. "I'll confess, I've heard much about ki-wielders being able to accomplish superhuman feats of mobility and generate energy flares...but not teleportation or phasing of the prowess you seem to have." Chris shrugged. "Kisada doesn't know where I'm getting it either. It took him thirty years to develop his teleportation abilities. And then I come along, a boy of thirteen...Kisada's puzzled, to say the least." Hunding chuckled gently. "So would most of the other great ki-wielders I've heard of. I'm especially pleased of your prowess because...well..." The usual look of worry reappeared on Hunding's face. He let out a sigh. "We think someone may be trying to kill someone important to the goals Varrius and I have been working towards. That someone is very near Hallstavik, so we can go into action as soon as we receive word from Varrius's aides. If you permit, I would appreciate it if you helped us out, since you seem an accomplished fighter." A shiver ran through Chris as he weighed what had just been said. I'm in no hurry to relive that nightmare in the Amakusa Islands again. Yet, someone needs my help...Chris made his decision. "I'm willing to help. Actually, Yashiro and Shermie also have some battle skills--they've participated in some minor tournaments. Should I ask them about this?" "You don't need to bother. Varrius is already testing them as I tested you." A low whistle. "I've got to see this." It took Chris a few minutes to reach the clearing where Hunding said Varrius was conducting his test. Just as he came in view, he heard Varrius shout. "PRISMATIC MIGHT!" Chris could see a massive beam of multi-colored light blast out of the clearing, at ninety degrees to his own path. Chris decided to wait until the show was over, then carefully slipped into the clearing. There, he saw a somewhat beaten-up Varrius, now garbed in an odd outfit of a red jacket, black pants and shoes, white gloves, violet vest, and green shirt. In front of him, Yashiro and Shermie were both trying, unsuccessfully, to shake themselves out of a daze. They quickly gave up, and lay prone on the ground. Varrius looked around himself, and seeing Chris, waved to him. "They're good warriors, although they don't handle lusomancy that well." Varrius cast an appreciative eye towards the two semi-conscious fighters. "Yashiro's got a lot of power for such a minor warrior. And Shermie...well, I doubt my neck or ribs will return to their normal shape before tomorrow's dawn. I'm amazed at the strength she holds in her legs. Anyway, they both fought very well against my sort of caliber...until that light show you probably saw, of course." "You need all three of us for this protection bit?" "I'm afraid so. We're sorry to have to presume on your vacation like this, but this is kind of important if the world is to remain stable." "Ah, no problem. Naonobu will tell you we're pugnacious enough to have a little fun of this sort from time to time. All I'm worried about is that Yashiro take any success we have and rub it into Minoru's face. We're opposed too much already--I don't want our rivalry to get worse. On the bright side, our recent forced cancellations have given us lots of time to write new songs for our fans." "Chris...your look of...innocence...can't protect...you forever..." "Oh, quiet, Yashiro." ***Northern Sicily, 8:39 p.m.*** The clear night sky graced Sicily with its constellations, undiluted by city lights. The sound of the gentle breeze only helped to magnify its beauty of infinity. And the only thing breaking the darkness in one area was the light coming from a villa built there. Until just minutes ago, the silence had been exiled by the sounds of battle from within the villa, only now ended. And lying on the ground and watching the stars was the victor, the warrior woman known to the world as King. She had just finished, with some assistance, bringing Andy Bogard and Shiranui Mai low in a bout that was meant as practice for the upcoming KOF '97. King, for one, was becoming more impatient with every week for the tournament to commence. In each of the three prior tournaments, her team had come ever closer to victory before being defeated. King smirked to herself at the memory. It was just as well, I guess, considering Rugal and Goenitz...Even so, it would be nice to get top honors this year, if only for the off chance that we don't have anybody like them waiting at the end. She shook her head in self-deprecation. "Yeah, right." "Is something wrong, Miss King?" "Hm?...Oh. Nothing to do with you, Dudley." King sat up and turned towards the welterweight boxer. "Just thinking about what this next tournament might be like in comparison to the others." She turned her hand flippantly. "You'd better be ready for somebody...shall we say...not nice running things." Dudley Vaughan nodded and smiled. "I assure you, Miss King, I have prepared myself for precisely that eventuality. In fact, there is one such hooligan I'm hoping to meet." King frowned in confusion. "What kind of guy are you looking for?" Dudley looked down and clenched his hand, inadvertantly summoning a tiny wisp of sonic ki to whirl about his fist. Despite being a businessman, he had become known as one of Britain's premier boxers in recent years. Particularly since his father's company had fallen into dire straits, at which point Dudley took up prizefighting to recoup the losses all the more quickly. Whether it was from determination to help his business, or from his minor sonic ki powers mixed with his boxing, he had risen to his sport's zenith incredibly quickly. And recently, he had been invited to the King of Fighters tournament, which he would be attending with the British government personnel Cammy White and Devon Wiles. During the present time, he had been practicing with Rose and her other guests for the tournament. Most recently, he had helped King manage to wrench victory from Andy and Mai. And now, he was thinking of whom he'd like to prove his abilities to most of all. "It happens to be the man who all but ruined my father's company." King raised an eyebrow. "You think this guy might be involved in the tournament? I hope he isn't like the last two..." "I don't know, Miss King. But I have a friend who works with Gill, and he says that he wants to hold a tournament at some point to gain exposure to other martial arts. Apparently, Gill's exact words were 'the sheep's arts'." King had to stifle a laugh. "'Sheep'? Oh, God, he's another Rugal! I hope history repeats itself with him!" "Actually, Gill's motives in everything--including betraying my father--are, to him at least, benevolent. He's under the impression his tyranny is required if humanity is to survive." Dudley shook his head in amusement. "The only reason my friend stays with him is to try to reform him. Unfortunately, progress is minimal--and he's been with the lout for twelve years so far." King sighed. Why do I get the feeling that this tournament is going to be like the last three, if this "Gill" is involved? "But he is making progress?" "Apparently, yes. With each passing year, he's gotten Gill to tone down on the military parts of his schemes." A wide grin etched itself onto King's face as she lay back down on the ground. "Hey, at least he's doing better than poor Kaphwan-kun..." ***Thien mansion, 1:12 a.m.*** Varrius pored over his documents for what seemed like the twentieth time thus far. The only things decorating the small, spare study where he was doing his work were a small lamp, a samovar, a teacup, and several used teabags. Varrius concentrated on the document in his hand as he took another sip of Earl Grey. It's all pretty clear...the reports I just received suggest the Marids are somewhere in the country...now if I can get permission to have Rose--A ringing from Varrius's jacket pocket interrupted his reverie. He fished out a cel phone and opened it. "Hello, Varrius Cicolini speaking." "Varrius, this is also a video transmission. Make sure I can see your face." "Oh." Varrius smiled as he followed the instructions. "Sorry for the inconvenience, Gill." "No matter. You mentioned that you needed to contact Rose to try to resolve the Marid problem with as little going awry as possible, like assassins targetting the wrong people. Because of the gravity of this situation, and since we're at what would be called peace right now, you have permission to contact Rose and ask of her anything you find necessary." Another great weight seemed to lift from Varrius's chest. "Thank you, my friend." Varrius could scarcely conceal his glee. "We have an appreciable chance of success now." "That's what I need, Varrius. I'd like there to be something left to restore. As much as I'd like to discuss more with you, I have a few other problems of equivalent urgency. Gill out." The cel phone went dead. Brusque tonight. I thought he could take staying awake this long better, although I guess his superiority complex would prevent that sort of demeanor. Varrius returned to his documents, and immediately saw something which caught his eye. He checked it, rechecked it with other notes he'd made, then smiled in contentment. He took out a map of Sweden, and circled a spot in the north near the Norwegian border. "Here," he breathed. "Marstjällik." He stood from his desk, and quickly marched over to a phone. He knew whom he would have to contact--and not just Rose. ***Near the summit of Marstjällik, 1:35 a.m.*** A lone man watched from his hidden post as he let the gentle winds blow past his face. Marstjällik was one of his favorite places for resting--especially since his usual seat there was almost a kilometer above sea level. A smile formed on his face as he reviewed the dark landscape before him yet again. Soon, we will no longer have to wait. In but a few months, all will be back to its true form, true image, true liege...He did not turn as he heard two other people enter the haven. "Daughter of Kingu, Son of Moloch, report." The one addressed as Son of Moloch spoke first. "Well, Son of Kali, I have good news and really good news. The good news is that Gill's men won't be getting at that old base anytime soon. NATO's hired fists have already cleaned it out. The really good news is that a Daughter of Hecate is among them." The Son of Kali spun around with pure delight on his face. "Excellent! The more Marids we can bring back under our Lord Orochi's aegis, the better! You must see to it that she can be brought back in." "No problem. I'll just get a bit of collateral with one of her comrades. I have one in particular in mind--I can sense a bit of love between them, although I'm not yet sure whether it's platonic or romantic." The Daughter of Kingu snorted in derision. "What does it matter? Both are rather pitiful replacements the Free-Willed designed for total obedience to Orochi. Now, Son of Kali, I have found, like the Son of Moloch, two exquisite pieces of news. The first is that the Catalysts are here." "Not bad, although we'd need just the right environs for them--and that's a few months in the coming." "You haven't heard the other piece yet. Urien hired a pair of assassins to get rid of us--don't interrupt yet--and--get this--one of them is the Onyx Samurai." Dead silence reigned for twenty seconds. The Son of Kali finally managed to speak. "The Onyx Samurai...he must have brought his swords..." "Mm-hmm. Just the kind of additional catalyst we need to help our Lord Orochi back over here immediately." Determination raged in the Son of Kali's eyes. "Where is he?" "He and Garlon are, I think, already in Hallstavik. In fact, why don't you go over with an air tenma or sound tenma for an extra eye and lure the two over here? I can get the Catalysts over here, and Moloch's Son can follow his own plan with the Daughter of Hecate." "Perfect. Our goals have been assured. Soon, our Lord Orochi will have His rightful dominion over the world once again. For the glory and power of Orochi, and us His obedient servants, the Marids." "For the glory and power of Orochi, and us His obedient servants, the Marids." The Daughter of Kingu and Son of Moloch spoke the benediction almost as one. The three then departed on their separate missions, together a mission of woe towards humanity. End Chapter One Links to other sites on the Web Return to Table of Contents © 1997, 1999 cross_sinker@my-deja.com This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page
The music included is "Live in Future" from Toaplan's Tatsujin-Ou/Truxton II, composed by Yuge Masanori. The MIDI was sequenced by J.B. {sugawara@dges.tohoku.ac.jp}. There are various other shmup themes at his site {http://www.dges.tohoku.ac.jp/~sugawara}. ***Stockholm, Sweden, March 10, 1997, 3:44 p.m.*** "Flight 322 from Nagoya is now disembarking..." Hunding Thien paced back and forth in front of the airport, anxiety clear on his face, even through his ample complement of greyish-brown facial hair. This was an event he had never expected to receive, and, therefore was not prepared for. The announcement from the intercom only added to his anxiety. I didn't think I'd see him again...and I somehow think I was hoping on that...but what I heard, about him so recently...did I underestimate him, somehow? Hunding's pacing quickened by an additional fifty percent, and his blue eyes gained a similar amount of discomposure. "Take it easy, Hunding. This is no way to greet your sister's son." Hunding turned towards the black-haired, red-suited Italian man next to him. "Varrius, you don't seem to understand my anxiety. My nephew has not turned out at all the way I thought he would ever since he, my sister, and my brother-in-law left for Japan. I still don't know whether or not to believe our correspondence." Varrius grinned, creasing his moustache and slight beard. "I seem to recall your being relieved when you found yourself rid of Anna." "But do you have any idea of what this could possibly mean? The repercussions? And if the words we heard were true--" "Oh, shush. The President will know what to do. Take it from his best friend." Varrius pointed to himself with an air of mock arrogance. "I'm still concerned--" "UNCLE HUNDING!!" Hunding spun towards the voice, while a bemused smile formed on Varrius's face. A young brown-haired child, just barely in his teens, ran towards Hunding, with two youths in their twenties--a white-haired, strongly built man, and a slender woman with her russet hair set in long ponytails and whispy bangs--desperately trying to catch up. Almost instantly, Hunding's expression changed from worry to delight as he allowed himself to hug the child. "Chris...I thought you'd be staying in Japan all your life..." Chris released himself and grinned. "Fat chance with the kind of competition we're getting back in Japan. Shermie and I finally convinced Yashiro to forget his vendetta with the Arashi Samurai and try an international tour." The white-haired man scowled on hearing this, which elicited giggles from both Chris and their female compatriot. "I suppose the introductions are up to me. Uncle, meet my comrades in quality music, Nanakase Yashiro and Shermie LeMieux. Yashiro, Shermie, this is my uncle, Hunding Thien." Shermie stepped forward and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Thien. Chris told us plenty about you and your advances in the cause of world peace." A slight smile graced her face. "An interesting occupation for the vice-president of Kraken Technologies." Yashiro, in the meantime, had just noticed Varrius, and was regarding him with his usual suspicion. "Just tell me who Hunding's friend here is. The president of Kraken, I hope?" Varrius laughed quietly. "Very good. I am indeed Varrius Cicolini, president of that august company, the perfection to which even the keiretsu of your nation look up." Yashiro's gaze and frown narrowed further on hearing this speech. Hunding could not help but laugh out loud when he saw this reaction. "Come on, Yashiro, that's his normal demeanor! He loves to play the part of the high-and-mighty king of the hill-city with self-deprecation. Just let your sense of humor run free, and he'll be no trouble for you." Yashiro relaxed some, but he still seemed to be in a negative mood. Hunding turned to Chris and Shermie. "Is he always like this?" A collective sigh came from the two. "I'm afraid so, and it has nothing to do with nationalism," Shermie said. "Although our fledgling record line has been doing very well, the band houses have kept replacing us with the Arashi Samurai--I guess everyone likes extremely raucous music these days. Yashiro is still taking it personally." She leaned close to Hunding and Chris and whispered. "That's why we're doing this international tour. Since we're something of a unique quantity outside of Japan, no one will think to boot us off for anything else. We just hope that a new success in live music will raise Yashiro's spirits." She resumed speaking in her normal volume. "Of course, first we've got this little gift for Chris and us to follow up, right, buddy?" A wide grin formed on Chris's face. "I'll say! Nine days to relax, explore the fjords, write songs...now that's paradise!" For once, Yashiro smiled, turning towards Chris as he spoke. "It should be paradise...if only because we have no Arashi Samurai to contend with. Iori, Minoru...don't even think of coming here!" Pure ecstasy was visible in his reddish-brown eyes. Varrius chuckled quietly, and gestured away from the airport. "I suggest we continue this 'discussion' at the Thien complex, shall we? We might as well have someplace isolated to talk the music business." As the retinue filed into Varrius's car, a single figure watched from a shadowed area. As the car left for Hunding's home town, the figure raised a hand and clenched, creating a spark of electricity that would have brought plenty of attention had anyone been able to see the shadowy entity... "All here, at the appropriate time. It's all working to our gain. Pity the poor fools who destined this..." ***Osaka, Japan, 11:52 p.m. (3:52 p.m. in Sweden)*** "Hey, where is he...?" "Yeah, come on..." "We want his autograph!" "I got flowers for him from...Fujimori Omatsu...self proclaimed 'biggest fan'..." "Uh-uh. I'm going to marry him! You can't be a bigger fan than that!" "Like hell you're going to, Sasanomi!" "People, people!" Itsuki Minoru kept trying to wave the crowd to silence, pretty much to no avail. "You should realize by now that the man you're all looking for never travels with the rest of the Arashi Samurai!" Derisive laughter floated out of the crowd that had cornered the Arashi Samurai outside the band house. "I think I know why. He may be antisocial, but compared to you, Minoru, he's a carnival clown!" A scowl of fury etched itself on Minoru's face, while the three other bandmates with him giggled quietly. They shared the critic's feelings. "Yeah, great as the band is, it could do better without you, Minoru!" "I know. How did you blackmail Akisachi into letting you onto the actual stage?" "Hey, let's replace him with Nanakase Yashiro! You'd never know the difference...until you noticed how much better a certain backup guitar was." "And the band's press releases..." "Kiyotada, Megumiko, Akisachi...don't worry too much. You and Iori are tops. You still keep Minoru far in the background..." "Very far."
Minoru, understandably, was steaming. Iori, where are you? Cleaning up these knuckleheads is your forté. Yagami Iori, however, was very far from all this--specifically, already at the southeastern outskirts of Osaka, while his bandmates were still trapped near the city's heart. By his calculations, they had been stuck for forty minutes now. It did not really matter much to him. Sighing quietly, he lit a cigarette, and inhaled upon it as he looked up at the cloud-covered sky, where neither star nor moon could be seen... "I suppose you would always be good at avoiding your fans." Iori did not deign to turn towards the source of the voice, continuing to stare into the night sky. "Hello, Chizuru." Kagura Chizuru walked up to him. As she did so, a west wind began blowing in, blowing her thin mane of black hair forward over her shoulders. Just as Iori's form radiated apathy, so Chizuru's form radiated the responsibility associated with containing an evil by herself. "Where are the rest of the Samurai?" A grim half-smile. "Still trapped with the usual fan mob. It's been forty minutes so far. Probably thirty-five minutes of grilling Akisachi and Megumiko on their upcoming wedding, and five minutes trying to find out where I am." Iori took another drag of his cigarette. "My own personal fans have been getting very pestiferous lately. Especially one named Toyotake Sasanomi, who thinks she's going to marry me!" Iori snarled, and hurled the cigarette to the ground, sending a tiny burst of violet flame after it. The cigarette was completely consumed within six centimeters of the ground. "That foolish woman...what do I care about love?! There's no room in the world for happiness! All there is is pain, suffering, despair, and humiliation!" A few short wisps of flame could be seen flickering about his teeth and nails. "Are you really sure, Iori?" Chizuru looked a little confused. "Your own bandmates certainly seem to have a different opinion." Iori closed his eyes in response. "All I can do is hope that fate is not cruel towards Akisachi and Megumiko the way it is towards nearly everyone else. And certainly not towards me." Now Iori's eyes seemed to emit fire. "You could say I'm a worst case scenario. I personally want to know what I did in my past lives to deserve all this...to deserve being born a Yagami...to deserve being humiliated by my lineage-only father, to be always compared against that fool Tsuruchi...to deserve being cursed with the knowledge of the Ya Otome technique...to deserve the hereditary vendetta against the Kusanagi, so that I must fight even those I bear no ill will against, like Saisyu...to deserve being at the Orochi's mercy...to deserve being vulnerable to the Bloodriot!" Iori spun around with such rapidity and violence that Chizuru actually found herself taking a startled step back. "You say that I'm destined to rescue the world from Orochi in this day and age! Tell me, Chizuru, do I look like a hero? Well, even if it disappoints you, I am not Terry Bogard, not Tsang Chun-Li, not Sakazaki Ryo, not Kitasono Ryu, not Athena Asamiya, and most definitely NOT Kusanagi Kyo!! All...I...am..." Iori rasped, "is a man broken from birth and always collapsing." He stared hatefully towards the northeast. "What can that fool Kyo know of my agonies? He has the love of both his parents, a practically destined girlfriend, many friends...And me?...Minoru scorns me, Akisachi and the others are afraid of me a little, my father detests me, and I can find no succor in the cheering of our fans." By now, Iori's countenance had degenerated into sullen self-hatred. "Face it, Chizuru. I am as nothing. I have little to lose, and less I can ever gain." "No, Iori..." Chizuru said, her voice halfway between normal and whisper. "You still have potential for greatness. And your will is greater than you think." Iori glowered at her. "I'm serious! You probably don't realize it, but when you and Rugal's secretaries were fighting Goenitz, he was continually trying to put you under the Bloodriot. I could feel the attempts even in my half-conscious state. Iori...the only reason he succeeded at the end was that he used the energies his death released to power a final attempt. Only Orochi itself could do better..." "It still doesn't matter." Iori clenched a fist and closed his eyes. "Ever since Goenitz died, I've felt something--for all I know, Orochi-kisama--pressing at my mind, whispering words of rage and destruction. And every time, I've come perilously close to reexperiencing the Bloodriot..." Iori's face became cast with terror and sickness. "And one time, while fighting one of the usual mahoutsukai determined to wipe out my family, I actually did fall under it. It was brief, but I remember the helplessness as my cursed blood made my body take the mahoutsukai, and completely destroy him. His flesh was shredded like coconut, his skeleton completely splintered...I've slain the mahoutsukai and their mercenaries before, but this...I actually felt pleasure in it!" Chizuru clutched the collar of her jacket as Iori finished his words, his eyes still blasted with self-horror. Tears began to well in the corners of her eyes. "Iori...you're still being too hard on yourself...the original Yasakani blood is strongest in you than it ever was since Hiroto made the pact 660 years ago. If you could learn to trust yourself, you could overpower your Orochi blood consistently...you could restore your line to what Yasakani wanted..." "But what good am I, still? I'm completely alone, basically friendless--and no, my fans don't count." Iori turned away from Chizuru, and began to walk away, but then looked back over his shoulder. "You may be right about my being important to sealing Orochi off in this century. I'd certainly be more than happy to repay him for my cursed blood. But other than that..." He breathed a sorrow-tinged sigh. "I am glad for at least one thing. You, unlike everyone else, even Akisachi, actually understand me. But I am, and always will be, a desolate man. There is room for no one." Chizuru watched Iori walk away. When he was no longer in sight, she turned away, and forced herself to choke back a sob. He truly was alone, if he could not bring himself to accept a true friend... ***Northern Sicily, Italy, 4:06 p.m.*** "Okay, a few basic points you ought to have remembered." Siobhan Conaghan walked back and forth in front of her fallen foe, brushing her auburn hair with her nunte while punctuating her remarks with her sai. She seemed aptly dressed for the battle in the copse, wearing a light green blouse, dark green pants, gloves, vest, and short cape, and dark brown boots. "One, defense is very important when facing a psychokineticist like myself when there's this much loose debris around. Two, any needlessly extending extremities, organic or artificial, are nunte bait. Three--and this is most important--never, ever try to pierce my Soul Shield with anything thrown. Do you understand my points?" During the entire lecture, a slight smile had been on the Irishwoman's face, an indicator that she was just trying to lift her foe's spirits. Rose nodded while smiling in turn and rolling her eyes at receiving a lesson from a woman at least fifteen years her junior. "Yes, I understand. I must admit, though, ever since you received that invitation to KOF '97, you've been drilling everyone else--me, Terry, Andy, Mai, King, Dudley--nonstop." "What do you want me to do, practice against total strangers who might want to cripple me out of the tournament? Remember, several of them are scared of the possibility of facing me in there. At least this time, I probably won't have to worry about any sort of emergency keeping me out." Siobhan emitted a sigh of annoyance. "I just don't believe it. Katsuda sends a message saying he's found Yousai's killers--and since three people would be too much for the mission, I need to come alone--I have Kasumi take my place on the team, and what do I receive? The worst pummeling I've ever had, courtesy of Sukune's beetle mechs! And no Onyx Samurai or Garlon! At least Katsuda apologized for the false lead...but I did miss my chance to be in the tournament." Confusion was clear on Rose's furrowed brow. "What I don't get is what got you to enter in the first place. I know you have a particular distaste for single-elimination tournaments." "The King of Fighters tournaments, at least when Geese wasn't running them and throwing illegal wagering and other such non-niceties into the mix, have always been between three-member teams. Kind of emphasizes cooperation and such. There isn't quite as much antagonism as I see in a Street Fighter tournament...no offense, Rose." Rose smiled graciously. "I've no reason to be offended. I only entered to find Bison and put an end to his corruption." Some sadness entered Rose's face. "Believe me, Siobhan, you don't want to face Bison's form of Ler Drit. It's totally corrupt to match his corrupted psychokinesis...and I swear he included some mahou in it as well. I only barely survived our battle. And Bison...Bison was able to walk away and leave me as dead." Shivers of dismay and fear shook Rose through. Siobhan chuckled gently. "Consider yourself lucky that Bison was the deadliest foe you had ever faced. After all, Mai, Andrew, and I get Yasuhiro for a primary nemesis, Terence's got Geese, and those three and Joe had to put up with some fellow named Laocorn Gaudeamus who got himself possessed by MARS, of all things! I'm still amazed Terence survived his battle with the freed Mars...and yes, the thing was ultimately defeated." Rose blinked several times. "Defeated an apparent war-god...if so, then...perhaps...no, that would be imposing." Siobhan stepped towards Rose. "What is it? What are you thinking about?" "For a moment, I thought Terry could help me remove Gill from his throne." "Oh, yes," Siobhan smiled. "The self-styled God reborn, the Lord of the Elements. Trust me, you've told me everything I need to know about him. I really doubt he'd compare to Laocorn or Mars." "You're sure?" "Very. Just remember that Laocorn and Mars were defeated by four of the world's greatest warriors. I'd say they can take Gill out without too much effort." "Still...it's not the time yet." Rose tightened her shawl. "As much as I dislike the thought, Gill is stabilizing the world a little with his constriction of the underworld to his organization's goals. We must wait until he's helping the world no more." "Bah, leave him for now. Mai and Andrew are expecting us back at the lakeshore, and King and Dudley will be arriving tonight. You might as well test their strength today." Rose smiled, and nodded. "I could use the distraction..." She then looked northward, a faraway look in her eyes, remembering one of her own who had done the greatest sacrifice against Gill, with the greatest potential good... ***Outside the Thien mansion, on the coast near Hallstavik, Sweden, 5:41 p.m.*** Varrius had left the others in the mansion to take a walk along the coast. It was his custom to take a brisk, 30-minute walk in the outdoors just before twilight every day, wherever he was. It was his way of clearing his mind of all the heaviness his position forced on him...which was considerable. The sea air, and the calls of the terns and plovers, made him oblivious to the man approaching him... "Cicolini!" Varrius spun to face his accoster. When he saw the man, his eyes widened a little, then narrowed rather severely. "What are you doing here, darkling? You should remember that you're not permitted to associate with me or any other high-ranking memb--" "Please," the large man snarled. "You and I are on the same objective for now. I merely came to warn you that I've already started ensuring that our targets will be eliminated very briskly, and that you might want to remain at a distance if you don't want to get in a crossfire." Cicolini hissed in anger. "You should know that we are still looking into our discoveries, Urien. We have found important anomalies with respect to the remaining Marids. We simply cannot do any eliminating yet...unless you're willing to risk the death of innocent bystanders..." Urien chuckled cruelly. "Varrius, you fool, you should know that I am already convinced that we have the appropriate quarries. I have already found two assassins with more than enough power to destroy the Marids we found, whatever may transpire. Out of what little respect I have left for..." Urien spat. "...your liege, I am warning you, and Hunding through you, to vacate yourselves when the time comes--and you will know when it comes. I am otherwise not responsible for your fates." Varrius's anger came to a head. "I'll be happy to take responsibility for THIS, though! PRISMATIC AURA!" A scintillating shell of multi-colored light suddenly appeared around Varrius, the edge where Urien would have been, had he not somehow been teleported away before the shield formed, as Varrius found out when he ended the power. He hissed in anger, fury flashing through his violet eyes. "You won't have it your way, basilisk. You simply will not." ***Inside the Thien mansion, 5:52 p.m.*** "You want to do...what, again?" Yashiro smiled across the library where the four were chatting at Hunding. "I'm planning to use everything I've researched on the Orochi legend, and similar myths from around the world, to create the ultimate in rock operas...and quite a coup over the Arashi Samurai." Yashiro ignored the way Chris rolled his eyes. "And you won't believe what I've found out. For instance...I believe you know how Orochi is depicted as an eight-headed, eight-tailed dragon?" "Yes, Yashiro. I know plenty about Japanese mythology." "Well, I found a story which suggests that this hydra-Orochi is really an emblem of eight fell warriors who served a powerful, corrupt spirit, all of them trying to conquer the world so Orochi could remake it in its image. To achieve this, eight maidens--the Kushinada sisters--were to be sacrificed so their dormant ki could be absorbed by each of the eight, and allow them to bond with their corresponding Tenmashin." "Tenmashin? I've never heard that term before." "I found it in a rather obscure work--I think there's only one copy in existence, held by Councillor Asahina Hitomi. Anyway, the Tenmashin were Orochi's eight supernatural lieutenants, one each for the elements of Fire, Sound, Electricity, Wood, Water, Earth, Metal, and Air. These eight are perhaps better known to you by the names they used among humanity--Kali of Earth, Kingu of Electricity, Morrigan of Metal, Moloch of Fire, Hiisi of Wood, Tlaloc of Water, Anshar of Air, and Hecate of Sound. They were all charged with catalyzing humanity's self-destructive impulses so Orochi could get its hegemony all the more quickly." Hunding whistled. "Eight mythological gods...and given their provinces, I can see how they would have done their work! Anyway, if I remember the story correctly, one Kushinada was not sacrificed, but saved by Susa-no-o, who slew the dragon Orochi. How is this going to be different?" It was now Chris who spoke. "The actual legend talks about two mystic warriors, Kusanagi and Yasakani, who fought the eight warriors, Kusanagi with his sword and Yasakani with his mystic fire, and the priestess Yata who helped rescue the last Kushinada. However, the three would still have been defeated...had Hecate not turned against Orochi." "Turned against Orochi? So Orochi didn't choose the most heartless of the gods for its Tenmashin?" "No way. Hecate, Tlaloc, Morrigan, and Hiisi had all been conscripted against their will. It was first Hecate who found an opportunity to get out of Orochi's service, because the Kushinada who was to be sacrificed to her was instead rescued. Therefore, she could avoid possessing her corresponding warrior. As a result of THAT, that warrior regained her free will, and recognized the foulness of Orochi's mission." Shermie stretched out in her chair. "You can probably guess the rest. The sound-warrior joined Yasakani and Kusanagi against the remaining seven warriors, and forced their Tenmashin to give up. Orochi was prevented from awakening to our world, and with its influence slowly waning, Morrigan could also escape her dark duties...and Tlaloc and Hiisi start their own attempts to corrupt humanity into a dominion of their own. Although, Hiisi met plenty of successful resistance by the other gods from the word go, and Tlaloc's plans were destroyed with the fall of the Aztec Empire." A smile was now clearly visible on Hunding's face "You have to get Councillor Asahina to consider getting her volume published. Can you imagine the popularity of the retelling of one of Japan's greatest legends? Hitomi would make a killing!" "One problem, though." Yashiro smiled. "She happens to be very clannish about her collection of works--it took me a while to get her permission to look into the tome. Anyway, what comes next sort of touches on ourselves personally. You see, the sound-warrior, Yagami, fell in love with Yasakani. Kusanagi felt concern over what the issue of his friend and a former Orochi warrior would be like, but he would not prevent their marriage. When Yagami first gave birth, she yielded a twin son and daughter. The daughter, Kagura, became a great researcher into and warrior against the forces of those Tenmashin who remained loyal to Orochi. However, the son, who took Yagami's name as his own, still carried the Orochi Trace, and was subject to occasional possessions by Moloch, whose warrior had been defeated by the first Yagami, and only Kagura was able to help her brother get out of those fits. The second Yagami's children were again a son and a daughter, both of whom had relatively mild traces of Orochi power. We don't know what happened to the daughter's line, but in the 1330's, one of the son's line, Yagami Hiroto, made a fell pact with Moloch, to gain power like that used by the true fire-warriors of Orochi. He used this power to wipe out all of his closer relatives. His power, though, ravaged his sanity, and to this day, all of his descendants--including, we think, YAGAMI Iori--have been afflicted by a general detest for humanity." A slight frown appeared on Chris's face. "That reminds me, Yash. We all know that Minoru--you know, your near-mirror image?--has been the biggest problem for our live concerts, being at the lead of almost every usurpation attempt. Why did you want to humiliate IORI, and not Minoru?" "Simple. Iori was in the KOF '96, Minoru wasn't. And can you think of some other way to humiliate somebody around the world than a sporting event like that?" Hunding, in the meantime, was in a state of deep thought. Too deep, Shermie thought, as she watched him. There's obvious worry on his face. Like the mention of the King of Fighters is calling up some unpleasant memory... "You plan to WHAT!?" Both Shermie and Hunding whipped their heads towards Chris, who was staring at Yashiro with disbelief. "You heard me," the white-haired rocker smiled. "We'll try to get into KOF '97 and flatten Yagami--or, if he's there for some odd reason, Minoru--and just get our revenge a year later than planned." The same look of bliss from the airport was on his face. Shermie blew into her hair, which had already started to fall in front of her small eyes. "Uh, Yashiro-kun, I think you meant 'your' revenge, not 'our'. Chris and I are perfectly content with living and letting the Samurai live. Why can't you do the same?" "You can actually take their mockery peacefully!? The zenith was ours before THEY came on the scene. It was ours by right!" Hunding raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think you should be asking the fans about this? They decided they liked Iori and his band better than you, not this Minoru you seem to hate so much. Besides, Shermie herself said that your record line was doing fine. Can't you rest on those laurels?" Yashiro was about to start his response when Varrius fairly blew in, dismay clear on his face, his eyes directed at Hunding. "Hunding...we've got to talk. Now." Hunding nodded towards Chris and his comrades. "If you'll excuse us..." Chris and Shermie nodded back in response--Yashiro was too busy composing the next piece of his anti-Samurai diatribe. Almost as soon as the two older men left into an adjoining room, Yashiro began trying to convince Shermie of the rightness of his ways. Chris, knowing from experience that intervention would be futile, decided to try to eavesdrop on what Varrius was so worried about--after all, it did concern his uncle. He carefully leaned to the outward edge of the threshold, straining to listen past Shermie and Yashiro's "conversation"... "...is planning kills on them, then get Rose to find someone to help out here. How hard can it be?" "Very hard. How willing do you think the President is to contact her? He's not exactly buddy-buddy with the Prism! It may take me a day or two to get his authorization!" "Do what you must, Varrius. I'll do my part by ensuring that Chris will be in at least good battle-shape. What better way to protect--" At that point, Chris noticed that Varrius was turning so he would face the threshold. Chris quickly ducked away from the doorway, and retreated to his chair, pretending that he had been engrossed in his bandmates' debate, which he in reality had heard around twenty times before in some variety or another. Around five minutes later, Varrius and Hunding came back in. Chris noticed that Varrius was a lot calmer than when he came in, and Hunding wasn't any more or less worried than before. Well, maybe a little more worried. He quickly walked over to Hunding's side. "Uncle, what's wrong?" "Nothing of immense import. Varrius and I can handle it...but I'll need to see you later this evening." Chris noticed that something was eating away at Hunding's fortitude. "Maybe you had better rest for the evening...I'll be only too happy to cook for us. It's one of the few ways I have of being unassailable by Yash. Say, Varrius, are you going to be eating here tonight?" Varrius smiled. "Of course. Hunding and I will be conversing on this problem far into the evening. There's no way I'll get back to Stockholm tonight." "All right then, I'll have to prepare food for five. Now let's see..." "Oh, Chris," Shermie interjected--Yashiro had finally left her at a loss for rebuttals. "I noticed Hunding's growing some eggplant here. Try making something with that as a major ingredient. I mean, since I had to swallow this swill..." Shermie grinned evilly at Yashiro. Again, a rare, slight smile from Yashiro. "Only if it includes plenty of celery as well." "HEY!!" Soon, a new debate, this one culinary in nature, broke out between the two. Even Hunding had to grin at the proceedings. Chris chuckled, then whispered to him. "Three words: Benedick and Beatrice. I suppose I'd better start finding recipes and ingredients before they try to drag me in for 'expert opinion'." Varrius nodded, barely avoiding breaking out in laughter. "Go on. It's not often I get this sort of entertainment for free." Still grinning, Chris sprinted towards the kitchen, already rummaging through his mind for appropriate dishes...and what he had heard Hunding and Varrius discussing. Clearly, they were attempting to stop some sort of assassination, and they thought he might be of assistance. Apparently, they had heard about his training under Asahara Kisada. Still, Chris was apprehensive about having to go through this. Especially considering the sort of killing field he had once gone through in Japan...he preferred not to think about what had nearly befallen him...and definitely not that black-and-white-armored samurai...
***Near the central Norwegian-Swedish border, 6:01 p.m.*** "Now, come on, everyone...HEEEEAAAAVE!!!" Clark Steel and Leona Heidern merely grunted in affirmation as they helped their comrade, Ralf Jones, work the pulley bringing the massive piece of machinery up to their ledge. They were busy cleaning out a ruined bunker that once belonged to NATO back in the 1960's, now suspected of being targetted for use by a terrorist group. A NATO official had contacted their commander, Maidret Heidern, to acquire his troops' services, mostly because their legendary battle skills might be needed in case those selfsame terrorists came back, as was rumored. Secrecy had been given as being extremely important on this one. The piece of equipment being hauled up was an example of why. The device was at least decades ahead of its time--the core of a power system that apparently used superconductors which could operate at two hundred kelvins. It was clear that whoever had overseen this project had access to some decidedly interesting technology. "Keep it up...unnnhhhh...I suppose this is what we get for taking such menial work..." "Oh, quiet, Ralf...umph...part of the deal was that we would get blueprints for the less advanced devices--like the ones we could actually make ourselaaAAACCKK!" Clark had suddenly lost his footing on the ground, and fallen with his arms getting pulled forward a bit by the resulting recoil in the cable. Ralf and Leona quickly steeled themselves to take in the recoil from the pulley. Despite the added difficulty, the three were able to, in a few more seconds, get the generator to the ledge. With the newest piece of equipment safely brought up, Ralf checked on Clark. "Still all right, Clark? How much strain did you receive?" "Not THAT much. Still, I'm glad this was the last piece. I can rest my arms to tomorrow morning...um, that is when the NATO helicopters are coming to pick all this up, Commander?" "Yeah, it's still on." The Argentine mercenary glanced around himself. "I'll be glad to be out of this coldfest, though. Commander Heidern said that our next mission will be to disable one of SLORC's shipyards--they're apparently building some sort of super hydrofoils there, to blow off anybody who might nose around for human rights abuse evidence or drug traffickers. I'd better keep my journal extra-detailed for that one--I can smell an action movie in that mission." The looks he received from Clark and Leona quickly made him decide against that decision. Ralf noticed that Leona was looking a bit distant just now. She had been this way periodically ever since that pesky robot-fest in the Amakusa Islands. And he still couldn't get her to talk about her trauma there..."Hey, Leona. Is everything all right?" A shiver could be faintly seen in Leona's face. "I...I don't know. It's like when Goenitz tried to...to..." She shuddered at the memory of how Goenitz had tried to awaken her dormant Orochi force after she and her comrades had lost in the KOF '96 to Yagami Iori's team. "It's like a convergence, and growing stronger somehow. Like some great, foul entity is preparing to come here." Ralf and Clark looked at each other with concern. After their rather unsuccessful attempt to keep Goenitz from disrupting KOF '96 and the last battle between Iori's team and Kagura Chizuru, they knew better than to doubt anything relating to Orochi. Ralf turned back to Leona, and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Relax, Leona. Even if it is Orochi, how's it going to get out? I mean, Goenitz is gone for good, and the Orochi force is sealed off. What could possibly be happening?" Terror remained on Leona's face. "Yet...I feel as though...Orochi's kept the door wedged open a bit...just enough for someone to help it out with enough effort..." ***Unknown location in Sweden, 6:22 p.m.*** Edward Gargrave scowled at one of the two men in front of him. "I know I told you several times that Onyx here and I are sufficiently skilled to avoid killing unnecessary targets. Now, you have made perfectly clear to us who the Marids are, so I don't see why you bothered telling Varrius what we were up to!" "Quite simple, Garlon," Urien smiled, using Edward's nom de'guerre. "I wanted to make it perfectly clear to Mr. Cicolini that I would not tolerate the presence of him or Hunding at wherever you choose to make the killings." "What are you so worried about?" "That Hunding and Varrius might be able to impede your progress. I realize you two should be able to handle them...but them and the Marids both? I very much doubt it, and those two idiots are probably self-deluded enough to attempt to protect them. I happen to know Varrius's power from experience, which is why I think all five would be too much for you. In all events, you must not let them bar your way! I have done my part by warning them off--they might have enough sense to abandon those three." Garlon tightened his grip on his sheathed cutlass. He resembled a 19th-century European soldier in full colours with his dark blue, black-trimmed outfit, and his cultivated blond mustache and goatee. The only thing out of place was his Australian accent. "That's not much justification. Before, Varrius didn't even know what we were up to. Yes, Hunding had some inklings as to your plans, and Varrius's men and elementals could have detected us as we tracked our quarry...but the fact of the matter is that he now knows precisely what we have in mind--remember, he's trying to do something about the Marids too! Just not necessarily killing them, but maybe whatever it was Hunding underwent. Now, we can expect plenty more resistance than if you had deigned to keep quiet on this." Urien's visage darkened, apparently hardening in the literal sense of the term. "You know the power I command now, Garlon. Do not tempt me to expose it to you in all its glory by questioning me." The third man chuckled quietly from behind his face-covering mask, his voice filled with electrical static. "You're not going to try attacking us, are you? Gargrave's thaumaturgy or my swordsmanship would each be a somewhat troublesome battle for you to handle. Together...you'd have no hope." His eyes--the only part of his face visible--narrowed with obvious warning, framed by his kabuto, lacquered in black-and-white striations like the rest of his do-maru. Hence his name, the Onyx Samurai. "The alliance between us isn't that strong, remember. Try not to tempt us to abandon it and put you back on the 'valid target' list." Onyx crossed his arms, and tilted his head to one side. "Although we really must be thankful to you, for finally helping us find out who the remaining Marids were. Our major goals are safe now." "Once we slay our targets, that is." Gargrave sighed, and drew his cutlass. "Well, I guess we'll just have to make do with the new obstacle our friend's forced on us. It's hunting time." Garlon turned back to Urien, and frowned. "Just hope what you've done doesn't wreck our work irrevocably." Urien snickered. "You give too little credit. It's not as severe as actually questioning me, but under the right circumstances, I could still consider such an offense worthy of my greatest punishment--" "I will assume you don't mean your overly presumptious personality." Edward gestured towards his fellow assassin. "Let's go." ***Thien Mansion, 7:50 p.m.*** "There's got to be a good rhyme for this line..." Shermie scowled at the incomplete libretto in her hand. Her latest song idea was at no loss for a good melody--Yashiro had seen to that, and was busy separating it for Ukuuchukan no Mikoto's various members. The coda of the libretto, though, was not coming along nearly as swiftly. She hoped Chris's project, was doing better. Somehow, he always got his librettoes working quickly. The fact of the matter was, Chris had already finished that project, natural poet that he was. But Shermie would not be getting his assistance, since he was occupied with a more pressing matter, and Varrius was just about to ask a favor of her... "You want to see what I've learned from Kisada-sensei?" "Why yes, of course." Hunding waved his wand down a little to emphasize his point. He and Chris were on the rocky shore near the mansion, ready for a practice battle. "I'd heard about your newly-found martial abilities, and I wanted to match them against my own pyromancy. After all, finding Kisada will be a bit difficult from here." "Well...all right." Chris smiled a bit. "I just hope you keep the heat down a bit." "I'm not going to risk killing my own nephew." Hunding settled into a battle stance, his wand extended like a short sword. "Ready?" Chris nodded, then immediately started a dashing elbow strike. Hunding lunged forward to get in the first blow. However, before he could react, Chris blinked out, and immediately blinked back in, now sliding, right at his feet. "I'm down here!" Chris called as he swept Hunding down. "And now...up! Comet Sunderer!" Hunding quickly spun around with his wand extended and trailing coppery flame. Chris yelped in surprise as the force of the blast carried him up into a vertical arc of flame. At least the copper flames aren't any hotter than a hot water bath...Chris vaulted back upon landing in order to get some distance for his next strike. Hunding was ready.
"SOLAR PIKE!!" he called as he jerked his wand forward, causing several explosions of copper fire to materialize in a line in front of him. Chris threw himself to his left to avoid the blasts, then leapt up. Hunding attempted another Comet Sunderer, hoping to catch him again. Chris, on the other hand, thwarted him by attacking him too quickly for the attack--by blinking in mid-air into a diving kick. Hunding's turn let him avoid most of the force, but he was still rendered a bit unsteady by the glance he had received. Chris took full advantage and grasped him, going into a comma throw, but suddenly changing on the ground to a handstanding foot launch. Chris got back up from the Aerial Drop at about the same time Hunding hit the ground. "That's good...but you haven't seen most of my repertoire yet!" Hunding immediately did another Solar Pike, watching as Chris neatly phased away from the line of fire, then immediately summoned another to catch his path. Chris gasped in disbelief as he plowed right into the copper fire, and only barely managed to keep his footing--which he immediately lost as Hunding quickly slide-kicked him from his left. Fortunately, he recovered just as he heard his uncle's next attack... "Fog Splitter!" Chris looked up to see Hunding above him in the air, sweeping his flame-covered wand straight down. He elected to stay in a crouching position. When Hunding was just a third of a second away from striking, Chris revealed what he was planning--a powerful ascending fist strike to the chest that knocked Hunding out of the Fog Splitter and to an initially unsteady stance on the ground. "Bravo, bravo!" Hunding smiled at Chris. "Now...what's your answer to this? Storm Sweeper!" A sphere of copper fire formed around Hunding as he rushed Chris, who merely deflected him with an upraised, protecting leg. "I'll just have to use most of my power." Even as he spoke, Chris rapidly blinked several times towards the recoiling Hunding, creating a burst of orange ki each time he rematerialized. The second blast caught Hunding, who was then helpless to avoid the remaining six. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath. "I...I'm fine...I think I'll just have to rest here for a little while." Hunding laid his head on his wand arm. "I'll confess, I've heard much about ki-wielders being able to accomplish superhuman feats of mobility and generate energy flares...but not teleportation or phasing of the prowess you seem to have." Chris shrugged. "Kisada doesn't know where I'm getting it either. It took him thirty years to develop his teleportation abilities. And then I come along, a boy of thirteen...Kisada's puzzled, to say the least." Hunding chuckled gently. "So would most of the other great ki-wielders I've heard of. I'm especially pleased of your prowess because...well..." The usual look of worry reappeared on Hunding's face. He let out a sigh. "We think someone may be trying to kill someone important to the goals Varrius and I have been working towards. That someone is very near Hallstavik, so we can go into action as soon as we receive word from Varrius's aides. If you permit, I would appreciate it if you helped us out, since you seem an accomplished fighter." A shiver ran through Chris as he weighed what had just been said. I'm in no hurry to relive that nightmare in the Amakusa Islands again. Yet, someone needs my help...Chris made his decision. "I'm willing to help. Actually, Yashiro and Shermie also have some battle skills--they've participated in some minor tournaments. Should I ask them about this?" "You don't need to bother. Varrius is already testing them as I tested you." A low whistle. "I've got to see this." It took Chris a few minutes to reach the clearing where Hunding said Varrius was conducting his test. Just as he came in view, he heard Varrius shout. "PRISMATIC MIGHT!" Chris could see a massive beam of multi-colored light blast out of the clearing, at ninety degrees to his own path. Chris decided to wait until the show was over, then carefully slipped into the clearing. There, he saw a somewhat beaten-up Varrius, now garbed in an odd outfit of a red jacket, black pants and shoes, white gloves, violet vest, and green shirt. In front of him, Yashiro and Shermie were both trying, unsuccessfully, to shake themselves out of a daze. They quickly gave up, and lay prone on the ground. Varrius looked around himself, and seeing Chris, waved to him. "They're good warriors, although they don't handle lusomancy that well." Varrius cast an appreciative eye towards the two semi-conscious fighters. "Yashiro's got a lot of power for such a minor warrior. And Shermie...well, I doubt my neck or ribs will return to their normal shape before tomorrow's dawn. I'm amazed at the strength she holds in her legs. Anyway, they both fought very well against my sort of caliber...until that light show you probably saw, of course." "You need all three of us for this protection bit?" "I'm afraid so. We're sorry to have to presume on your vacation like this, but this is kind of important if the world is to remain stable." "Ah, no problem. Naonobu will tell you we're pugnacious enough to have a little fun of this sort from time to time. All I'm worried about is that Yashiro take any success we have and rub it into Minoru's face. We're opposed too much already--I don't want our rivalry to get worse. On the bright side, our recent forced cancellations have given us lots of time to write new songs for our fans." "Chris...your look of...innocence...can't protect...you forever..." "Oh, quiet, Yashiro." ***Northern Sicily, 8:39 p.m.*** The clear night sky graced Sicily with its constellations, undiluted by city lights. The sound of the gentle breeze only helped to magnify its beauty of infinity. And the only thing breaking the darkness in one area was the light coming from a villa built there. Until just minutes ago, the silence had been exiled by the sounds of battle from within the villa, only now ended. And lying on the ground and watching the stars was the victor, the warrior woman known to the world as King. She had just finished, with some assistance, bringing Andy Bogard and Shiranui Mai low in a bout that was meant as practice for the upcoming KOF '97. King, for one, was becoming more impatient with every week for the tournament to commence. In each of the three prior tournaments, her team had come ever closer to victory before being defeated. King smirked to herself at the memory. It was just as well, I guess, considering Rugal and Goenitz...Even so, it would be nice to get top honors this year, if only for the off chance that we don't have anybody like them waiting at the end. She shook her head in self-deprecation. "Yeah, right." "Is something wrong, Miss King?"
"Hm?...Oh. Nothing to do with you, Dudley." King sat up and turned towards the welterweight boxer. "Just thinking about what this next tournament might be like in comparison to the others." She turned her hand flippantly. "You'd better be ready for somebody...shall we say...not nice running things." Dudley Vaughan nodded and smiled. "I assure you, Miss King, I have prepared myself for precisely that eventuality. In fact, there is one such hooligan I'm hoping to meet." King frowned in confusion. "What kind of guy are you looking for?" Dudley looked down and clenched his hand, inadvertantly summoning a tiny wisp of sonic ki to whirl about his fist. Despite being a businessman, he had become known as one of Britain's premier boxers in recent years. Particularly since his father's company had fallen into dire straits, at which point Dudley took up prizefighting to recoup the losses all the more quickly. Whether it was from determination to help his business, or from his minor sonic ki powers mixed with his boxing, he had risen to his sport's zenith incredibly quickly. And recently, he had been invited to the King of Fighters tournament, which he would be attending with the British government personnel Cammy White and Devon Wiles. During the present time, he had been practicing with Rose and her other guests for the tournament. Most recently, he had helped King manage to wrench victory from Andy and Mai. And now, he was thinking of whom he'd like to prove his abilities to most of all. "It happens to be the man who all but ruined my father's company." King raised an eyebrow. "You think this guy might be involved in the tournament? I hope he isn't like the last two..." "I don't know, Miss King. But I have a friend who works with Gill, and he says that he wants to hold a tournament at some point to gain exposure to other martial arts. Apparently, Gill's exact words were 'the sheep's arts'." King had to stifle a laugh. "'Sheep'? Oh, God, he's another Rugal! I hope history repeats itself with him!" "Actually, Gill's motives in everything--including betraying my father--are, to him at least, benevolent. He's under the impression his tyranny is required if humanity is to survive." Dudley shook his head in amusement. "The only reason my friend stays with him is to try to reform him. Unfortunately, progress is minimal--and he's been with the lout for twelve years so far." King sighed. Why do I get the feeling that this tournament is going to be like the last three, if this "Gill" is involved? "But he is making progress?" "Apparently, yes. With each passing year, he's gotten Gill to tone down on the military parts of his schemes." A wide grin etched itself onto King's face as she lay back down on the ground. "Hey, at least he's doing better than poor Kaphwan-kun..." ***Thien mansion, 1:12 a.m.*** Varrius pored over his documents for what seemed like the twentieth time thus far. The only things decorating the small, spare study where he was doing his work were a small lamp, a samovar, a teacup, and several used teabags. Varrius concentrated on the document in his hand as he took another sip of Earl Grey. It's all pretty clear...the reports I just received suggest the Marids are somewhere in the country...now if I can get permission to have Rose--A ringing from Varrius's jacket pocket interrupted his reverie. He fished out a cel phone and opened it. "Hello, Varrius Cicolini speaking." "Varrius, this is also a video transmission. Make sure I can see your face." "Oh." Varrius smiled as he followed the instructions. "Sorry for the inconvenience, Gill." "No matter. You mentioned that you needed to contact Rose to try to resolve the Marid problem with as little going awry as possible, like assassins targetting the wrong people. Because of the gravity of this situation, and since we're at what would be called peace right now, you have permission to contact Rose and ask of her anything you find necessary." Another great weight seemed to lift from Varrius's chest. "Thank you, my friend." Varrius could scarcely conceal his glee. "We have an appreciable chance of success now." "That's what I need, Varrius. I'd like there to be something left to restore. As much as I'd like to discuss more with you, I have a few other problems of equivalent urgency. Gill out." The cel phone went dead. Brusque tonight. I thought he could take staying awake this long better, although I guess his superiority complex would prevent that sort of demeanor. Varrius returned to his documents, and immediately saw something which caught his eye. He checked it, rechecked it with other notes he'd made, then smiled in contentment. He took out a map of Sweden, and circled a spot in the north near the Norwegian border. "Here," he breathed. "Marstjällik." He stood from his desk, and quickly marched over to a phone. He knew whom he would have to contact--and not just Rose. ***Near the summit of Marstjällik, 1:35 a.m.*** A lone man watched from his hidden post as he let the gentle winds blow past his face. Marstjällik was one of his favorite places for resting--especially since his usual seat there was almost a kilometer above sea level. A smile formed on his face as he reviewed the dark landscape before him yet again. Soon, we will no longer have to wait. In but a few months, all will be back to its true form, true image, true liege...He did not turn as he heard two other people enter the haven. "Daughter of Kingu, Son of Moloch, report." The one addressed as Son of Moloch spoke first. "Well, Son of Kali, I have good news and really good news. The good news is that Gill's men won't be getting at that old base anytime soon. NATO's hired fists have already cleaned it out. The really good news is that a Daughter of Hecate is among them." The Son of Kali spun around with pure delight on his face. "Excellent! The more Marids we can bring back under our Lord Orochi's aegis, the better! You must see to it that she can be brought back in." "No problem. I'll just get a bit of collateral with one of her comrades. I have one in particular in mind--I can sense a bit of love between them, although I'm not yet sure whether it's platonic or romantic." The Daughter of Kingu snorted in derision. "What does it matter? Both are rather pitiful replacements the Free-Willed designed for total obedience to Orochi. Now, Son of Kali, I have found, like the Son of Moloch, two exquisite pieces of news. The first is that the Catalysts are here." "Not bad, although we'd need just the right environs for them--and that's a few months in the coming." "You haven't heard the other piece yet. Urien hired a pair of assassins to get rid of us--don't interrupt yet--and--get this--one of them is the Onyx Samurai." Dead silence reigned for twenty seconds. The Son of Kali finally managed to speak. "The Onyx Samurai...he must have brought his swords..." "Mm-hmm. Just the kind of additional catalyst we need to help our Lord Orochi back over here immediately." Determination raged in the Son of Kali's eyes. "Where is he?" "He and Garlon are, I think, already in Hallstavik. In fact, why don't you go over with an air tenma or sound tenma for an extra eye and lure the two over here? I can get the Catalysts over here, and Moloch's Son can follow his own plan with the Daughter of Hecate." "Perfect. Our goals have been assured. Soon, our Lord Orochi will have His rightful dominion over the world once again. For the glory and power of Orochi, and us His obedient servants, the Marids." "For the glory and power of Orochi, and us His obedient servants, the Marids." The Daughter of Kingu and Son of Moloch spoke the benediction almost as one. The three then departed on their separate missions, together a mission of woe towards humanity. End Chapter One
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