Just ignore. The purpose of this topic is, obviously, to test any of the elements from my upcoming posts that are needed to be previewed further. Might contain a tad bit of spoiler, though.

POW!

THUD!

CLAP!

“Alright! Who else is next?”

Another fight, another victory for the famed Hungry Wolf of South Town. They didn’t call him legendary for nothing, after all. Ever since his arrival to Chinatown, Terry had won multiple fights that took place at the heart of the East Asian corner of the city of the wolves. He could hear loud and clear that the locals were rooting for him, eager to see him overcome each and every obstacle in his path until there was no one to dispute him for the one and only VIP spot at Pai’s restaurant. The series of bouts itself was a huge attraction that afternoon—mainly because of Terry—and due to this, some of the locals began guarding the access to the center of the battle with a row of pickups and minibuses. Though, it didn’t stop any of the outsiders from ‘getting into the ring,’ including what was about to come after Terry next.

With the registration now completed, the Seekers of Fight had made their way back to Pao Pao Café 7.

“You broken piece of shit! Look what you’ve done! You tore my glasses with that stupid energy dome! I want this man to be banned! Banned from the ‘Divekick’ program, banned from every single tournament in the town! I demand each and every single one of his moves be nerfed as a penalty!”

Again, the geeky man protested with a raised voice, ever-so-critical about Terry’s performance as usual. He thought it was well-deserved, seeing how he never came to appreciate what the brawny blonde had in store for both his opponents and the audiences alike, but at the same time, he felt sorry. Sorry for the damages caused upon the once cozy interior. Sorry for the injuries that he might’ve inflicted upon the clueless audiences. Channeling his grief into something much more explosive had never been his intention. He was completely overwhelmed by that time, unable to think nor stifle what remained of his internal force. Even now, he still had a hard time trying to come to terms with the memories that’d come coursing back into his rather miniscule brain.

Urgh… Good grief, I think I messed it up! It ain’t supposed to end this way. Guess it’s only a matter of time till those goddamn noises gimme another headache, huh?

Even the lalafell’s reprimand didn’t affect the ever-mocking crowd, as the chants continued to be sounded, their voices louder and heavier. Their demand was clear: the competing fighters had to proceed to the second round or else, they were ‘rigged.’ He was normally composed, indifferent about what anyone had to say about his performances, but with his current state of mind and the crowd this obnoxious? Would he be able to remain level-headed much longer? Especially not when part of the crowd started scoffing at him personally…


“What is this bullshit? Why do they stop beating each other up?? I want my money back!”

“Yeah, for real! No second round, no buy!”

“Like we’re supposed to sell what any of these wimps are tryin’ to sell us, anyway.”

“I knew it! I knew that blondie was no good. He’s just one of those Ken wannabes trying to act all tough and rough.”

“Well, duh! What can you expect? He’s just Ken with a hat. And now his hat ain’t even there no more.”

“Who cares? Kyo and Iori are better fighters, anyway! And they draw seats, unlike this overrated, generic piece of shit gaijin y’all pushed to be KOF’s ‘true mascot.’”

“I know right? Think about it, the last time this guy main evented KOF, ain’t nobody gave a damn about him passing the torch to his doofus foster son. Like, literally, what’s the hype? Who asked for that? Who was it even for? I just want my Kyo and Iori bromance for the sixteenth time.”

“Is this what you called a top level performance from a top-tier fighter? Heh. Top level, my ass! That gaijin can’t even pull out a watchable combo to save his life. Send him back to one of those kuso ass dojos ’round here!”

“Hey, hey, y’all calm down! Lower your expectations a little. You can’t expect much from a non-fighter who fights like a comic book character. Can’t even tell a right hook from a fish hook, I bet. No wonder he’s washed!”

Even outside of the KOF dojo, the same noises were partly present. Same mockery, same harsh criticisms, and the same kind of derogatory nicknames being used to belittle him. It was as though a sizable fraction of Esaka had come to an agreement that Terry was barely in his prime anymore, and that his place among the ranks of the flashier, slightly younger KOF competitors was far from deserving. He just stood clumsily, trying to absorb each and every harsh word directed towards himself and the other Seekers as his keen eyes shifted from one visitor to another. It was clear that a number of people did feel bad for him and the crew, yet their voices were greatly muffled by the louder, more spiteful part of the gathering bunch. Even worse now that the proprietress had entered the scene, yelling and trying to cast every visitor out of the teahouse, instead of calming the rioting crowd. Terry and the other competing fighters were no exceptions. Gritting and frowning, the former KOF champion had begun to lose his cool.

“Jesus Christ! Just…”

POW!

BOOM!

Shocking the entire teahouse, he knocked the already damaged floor with an energy-laced fist, a spark of geyser-like projectile flickering. Nobody received the impact this time around. What came later was merely a trembling ground, a broader fracture, then the furious urge of one Hungry Wolf.

“SHUT UP!!”

And just like that, the gesture and the exclamation effectively silenced the rioting crowd. At least, for now. They’d become too stunned to speak, not anticipating somebody as carefree and cheerful as Terry to be this furious. It seemed scary in a way. He drew his fist out of the pummeled ground, but the moment he tried to steady himself…

“Agh–!!”

He was brought back to his knee, one hand grasping the lowered head. Clearly, the former KOF champion hadn’t fully recovered, even after Amaterasu had tended to his injuries. Just remembering the long lost memories he’d recently discovered—coupled with the suffocating scents of Madam Bo’s and the mother bear’s cigars—nearly prompted him to throw up. Thankfully, he’d only suffered from the barest hints of nausea, and when he attempted to stand out of his kneeling position, the school girl hurriedly approached, combing and pushing through the rowdy crowd gathering downstairs. Her worried visage and arms were slightly bruised from the impact of the Power Stream, the ‘Fatal Fury’ cap he gave her loosely circling her brown head.

“Terry-san! Oh, God… Are you okay?” she asked, then hunched her shoulders, settling a comforting hand over his shoulder. “I’ve been worrying about you. What was going on?”

Terry slowly nodded, his hand slowly leaving his head. “Y– Yeah, I’m okay, buddy. Don’t worry,” he reassured, then firmly gripped her hunched shoulder for support, gradually managing to stand on his feet. “I just need some time alone, it’s all…”

The brawny blonde strolled past the concerned fangirl, then picked up the duffle bag he left sprawling across the floor by its rough strap, letting its heavy frame burden his shoulder. He revealed another red-and-white baseball cap out of the back pocket of his jeans, sporting it back around his head. He started striding out of the teahouse.

“Yeah, that’s it, we’re leaving,” he said before halting his boots to glance at both the crew and the new fellow past his shoulder, his fingers tipping the brim of his cap. “What? There’s no use stayin’ here much longer. If y’all wanna find me, just meet me up at the tier above. There’s an elevator nearby that’ll help you reach out to the higher tiers, capiche? And…” He stifled his mouth, blue eyes darting between the remaining crew, Yayama, and the school girl before saying: “...thank you.”

Terry didn’t bother elaborating why he thanked the particular individuals mentioned. His mind had been loaded with a lot of unresolved things, and he just wanted to part ways with the place as quickly as he could, believing he’d find comfort or anything outside. Perhaps, he wanted to thank them for their genuine concern, for the friend heart that’d set him free, but who knows? He wished he could’ve expressed his gratitude better. The crowd continued to eye on Terry, as his striding form became more and more distant in view.




Esaka’s Middle Tier. For most residents, the city’s Low Tier was where they began their journey, but for Terry, the Middle Tier was his true starting point. His time in the Low Tier was relatively brief, to say the least, as it served more as a stepping stone for him to be vouched to one of the prestigious dojos around the neighborhood: ‘Fatal Fury,’ formerly known as the ‘Hakkyokuseiken School of Ancient Martial Arts.’ Unfortunately, as was the case for the Kyokugen Dojo, the Fatal Fury dojo was discontinued after it, too, was bought and merged with the former by the Kagura Enterprises to establish what was known today as the KOF dojo.

It was true that the Middle Tier resembled a regular Japanese city, particularly modeled to look like one from the 80s or 90s. The shrines and the modern day structures coexisted harmoniously, creating a sense of balance between tradition and modernity—of past and present. Unlike the jumbled mess that was the Low Tier side of the city, the buildings here were organized in definitive rows, divided into sections. For instance, it was easier to differentiate between a housing complex and a martial arts dojo in the Middle Tier than it was in the Low Tier. The Middle Tier was slightly more tranquil and composed, making it a perfect spot for those who wished to cool down after an intense day. Frankly, it was the exact sensation that Terry was chasing after aside from the soothing sense of nostalgia it might offer.

While aimlessly wandering from one street to another, Terry managed to come across several places he hadn’t visited in a while. His favorite amusement arcade was still present, flawlessly maintained after tens of years since its grand opening. The neon light displaying the words ‘Neo Geo Land’ remained hanging above the entrance, colored in striking red and yellow, while the vibrant building’s upright form cheerfully stood close to a sea of dojos sprawling ahead of him. Popular names like ‘Darkstalkers,’ ‘Rival Schools,’ ‘Power Stone,’ ‘Soul Calibur,’ ‘Dead or Alive,’ ‘Eternal Champions,’ ‘Melty Blood,’ ‘Bloody Roar,’ ‘Brawlhalla,’ ‘Rivals of Aether,’ and ‘Samurai Shodown’ were the first to greet his weary gaze. Sandwiched between them were some of the smaller, lesser known dojos, such as ‘Martial Masters,’ ‘Thrill Kill,’ ‘World Heroes,’ ‘Fighter’s History,’ ‘Primal Rage,’ ‘Kizuna Encounter,’ ‘Rage of the Dragons,’ ‘Blade Strangers,’ ‘Pocket Bravery,’ and ‘Diesel Legacy’ just to name a bunch. Just peering over the sight, he was unsure whether or not this was merely a tactic used by them to draw awareness to their existences, but regardless, he always figured those obscure names would’ve stood out just fine, even without the aid of the other, more popular dojos.

Above the row of neatly kept buildings was the same billboard Pit just came upon early on, showcasing lists of zeroed score entries ready to be filled after the next series of tournaments had concluded. It’d been so long since Terry had ever inserted his name on one of those entries, and he was barely certain if he’d ever be a high scorer anymore. At least, not after years of staying on the sidelines. Nevertheless, he still hadn’t lost hope. Not after seeing firsthand just how well his new teammates held their own in a fisticuffs.

Moments later, the lists of empty entries shifted away, replaced by a series of consecutive advertisements. Showing numbers and shortened names wasn’t the billboard’s sole function, after all. Numerous big events were promoted, some totally unrelated to tournaments and fighting. The most notable examples included the dates of the future concerts involving the famed yet beloved Athena Asamiya, as well as those of the controversial bunch that was the CYS trio. It was an amusing sight, to say the least, as much as it was the advertisement for Takuma’s Grill and the daily ‘Winners Don’t Use Drugs’ reminder that came later. Then, there was a missing person campaign that appeared significantly darker and grittier than the prior advertisements. His amusement was cut short when the campaign began revealing the faces of the ones he knew and cared for.


Have you seen… us?

The crimson headline made it seem as though the fighters being pictured were asking Terry if his investigation had fruited any significant progress. The truth was, not even the barest hints of progress had been made. For years, he’d tried everything in his power to track down his missing fellows, yet despite having traveled all across the nation and beyond, he was yet to find a single clue in regards to their whereabouts. Even with the help of seasoned investigators like Chun-Li and Kevin Rian, still not a single lead was found. It was as though they were vanishing without a trace, refusing to be searched nor discovered. But then, there was a worse possibility. What if a grander entity was involved? Something or somebody as influential as the Four Kings? No, that couldn’t be the case. It might make a lick of sense, sure, but what was it exactly that they did to infuriate them, anyway? Did it really have anything to do with what he’d been opining in regards to Rugal?

Right… Somebody or some folks know exactly what’s up in Esaka. They must’ve known something about my missing friends and family that I dunno yet. But what could it be? Hmm…

Terry’s hand held his mandible high, narrowing eyes scanning and contemplating on each and every word selection arranged for the campaign. The question, the matter-of-fact statement, the underline, did it try to tell something? Something much grander yet darker behind the curtain? It was as if Kevin or whoever was working on the displayed campaign knew a secret, but was afraid to reveal it. Clearly, a powerful figure had orchestrated some sort of a massive abduction, hadn’t they? It couldn’t be a coincidence when each and everyone of his buddies continued to vanish all of a sudden every time he questioned, not just the KOF dojo, but Esaka as a whole.

Or I dunno… Maybe I was just thinking too deep into this. What if it isn’t as serious as I thought?

Then, the hat-wearing bruiser shrugged. Once again, he attempted to maintain a positive outlook, even though his quizzical face showed otherwise. No matter how hard he tried to put on a positive front, the unresolved situation was hard to dismiss. He really missed Andy, Joe, Mary, Rock, and several others not included in the campaign so damn much. And just when breaking out of the mind control was believed to unravel the thread, it only tousled the thread further, as he now had to digest the tragedy and the trauma he had to deal with just moments before the merging of the worlds. The burden had only become heavier and heavier each time, and he knew he couldn’t endure it alone—not when he was still a bit puzzled. He needed explanations—of Galeem, of the World of Light, and of the misfortune that he and his loved ones had to go through.

Yeah, I could use some help. No, no, no, I have to be helped. Just walking around aimlessly ain’t gonna solve a thing. Maybe I gotta tell the detectives. They’re right there, ain’t they?

The enormous form of Big Band was hard to miss out, even from a far. Apparently, he nearly involved himself in… a scuffle with the notorious Balrog and his twin from the Killer Instinct dojo? No, it didn’t seem like that the way it unfolded, though. He seemed to be pulling out something out of his pocket—a badge or some sort—trying to resolve the fray that never came to be. What police department did he work for, anyway? The brawny blonde had traveled anywhere and found nothing, but who knows? Perhaps, Band could’ve been proven more competent than any of the investigators he’d reached out to, given that all of the Seekers seemed to know the mysteries of the world.

Right. Gotta say ‘hi’ to them, but… wait!

Just a couple of strides past the Kyokugen BBQ, and something peculiar instantly caught his attention. He halted right across the humongous sight, his upright form turning in its direction.


Fatal… Fury??

Terry’s eyes went truly wide, his head throwing back. He read the sign right, didn’t he? First Pao Pao Café, and now this? The sign was devoid of any visuals the last time he stumbled upon the once defunct dojo, and now that crimson scratch logo reappeared, alongside the accompanying picture depicting two boxers throwing down with each other. Perhaps, he’d been traveling frequently and was too caught up with the loss of his loved ones to properly keep up with the city’s latest updates.

The colliding noises of flails and kicks echoed from within the spacious dojo, yet they were barely as loud nor boisterous as the ones they’d regularly created from within the KOF dojo. He could vaguely point out that one or more fighters had to be sparring or training from behind the bricked wall. Was this an indication that the Fatal Fury dojo had somewhat made its triumphant comeback to the business? He couldn’t be dreaming, could he?

No way… Who would’ve thought! Maybe this is where the answer lies, after all.

Out of curiosity, Terry pivoted. Instead of approaching Azuma and the investigating bunch, he strode into the place that made him and his Team Fatal Fury, hoping to find the slightest hints of lead that might bring him closer to his closest acquaintances.

FIN.

“I beg to differ.”

Terry shifted his attention away from Tung, facing the source of the voice, only to discover that it was…


“Geese…!?”

“Surprised, surprised… Miss me?”

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.

Nothing to see here.

“Hey there, everybody. It’s Ryu, from Streets,” Ryu introduced calmly. “Did you know? My favorite things are... jumping into the lake fierce, stale bread, water without any ice, the newest season of The Simpsons, aaaand Dirt. See you in Street Fighter Five Seven, everybody.”

FIN.

Spoiler for Ryu.

Spoiler for Ryu (2).

---

After finishing his lunch and paying his debt to the prior Quick Rise waitress, Terry decided to take an elevator to the Pools alongside his team before they were late for their second match. If the billboard that Terry found nearby Pao Pao Café was to go by, the subsequent bout was scheduled to take place at K-32. Fortunately, upon arriving and following the direction provided to them by the nearby map, it didn’t take a while until the Seekers located the exact stage they were looking for.

Spoiler for Ryu (3).