Description: Guile comes to make Akira an offer she can't refuse -- with a fight she can't refuse. A thoughtful discourse on the philosophical nature of refusal ensues.
The Southtown Mexifestival!
Long the most hallowed of celebrations for the Korean populace of Japan, it is held in Little Korea, which in the aftermath of the Southtown War has been relocated to a shantytown within a shattered runway of the Southtown Airport. Still, despite the fact that the government is treating them worse than Hurricane Katrina refugees (Sean Penn even refused to come help fish them out of the rubble, citing that he likes "brown sugar, not brown rice"), these people have a lot to celebrate: namely, that they are alive.
In response to their forcible relocation, Little Korea has formed a number of biker gangs, all of whom are on crystal meth and insanely violent. This allows Akira Kazama to blend in to the festivities and score liquor without an ID, because Seijyun High dorm life is pretty boring.
She rolls slowly on her bike, the sounds of drums and electric piano drowning out the flamenco guitar being played at every street corner in the little shanty village. Akira, helmet obscuring her face, looks left and right, trying to find the sleaziest liquor store.
It's much easier to drive a motorcycle through little Korea than it is to drive a large 1980's American 4-door Sedan, colored glossy black with red leather seats, a Huey Lewis tape playing on tinny speakers loud enough to drown out an entire Ranchero band's horn section. How that car got in front of "MR. KIM'S DISCOUNT LIQUOR AND SOFTCORE PORNOGRAPHY' is anyone's guess, but one fact might lend a clue: William Guile never does things the easy way-- he does them the /right/ way/
The sedan's driver side front door opens, clotheslining a hooligan on a cheap Yamaha, crashing him to the ground. Placing a combat boot atop the candy apple red bike's chassis, like John Cougar Mellancamp might put his foot on a stage monitor during an intense guitar solo, Guile surveys the Mexifestival. Taking a moment to lift up the hooligan's motorcycle helmet visor, the ace pilot and world warrior looks down into the much younger man's eyes. "Sell the bike and buy a gym membership, scumbag."
Pushing the door to Mr. Kim's open, Guile leans against the counter and waits. For Akira.
"Why yes, Mr. Kim, I would like a Coca Cola Classic. Thank you." Opening the bottle with his teeth, Guile taps his foot to the still-audible sounds of 'Sports' from outside.
Akira notices the huge car outside the store, and considers jumping it on her bike for a moment, but without Edge or Gan to film it on their cameraphone, she decides that it's not worth the effort. Instead, she putt-putt-putts to whatever parking space is most convenient (an alleyway that's also host to the first ever Mexifestival Annual 'Guess What's at the Bottom of This Bowl of Popcorn in My Lap' Competition, Ages 5 and Under Division).
Sauntering into the store, Akira pays no mind to the people in there, and makes a bee-line right for the shelves of liquor. She has a cracked, weathered plastic shopping basket from by the doorway, clearly marked 'ALBERTSON-SAN'S', and fills it with Mr. Boston rum and cheap Cisco wine, mostly going for the pink and urine-yellow flavors. She starts making her way over to where the chocolate easter bunnies are kept, intending to bite the ears off of one and drink Kahlua out of it, when she sees the military man standing in her way.
Akira freezes. She doesn't have ID on her, and she's underage anyway. Her best bet, she decides, is just to play it cool, and attempts to walk past him casually.
Guile calmly takes a sip of lukewarm Coca Cola (still much better than Rice-Chan Kawai Kola at any temperature) and frowns at Akira. "Mr. Kim, will you excuse us please? You might take this time to close up shop and file your taxes." Guile sets his half-empty bottle of Coke down on the corner behind him, straightens his dogtags, makes sure his hair is perfect and addresses Akira.
"I know who you are." He steps right up to her and looks down into the motorcycle helmet, his own reflection confirming that his hair could not be better or taller.
"And I've already busted my ass for you, kid. I'm here to make you an offer you literally can't refuse." Casually, Guile reaches for something behind his back...
...three rolled up sheets of paper. "Your citizenship papers. And trust me, kid, Uncle Sam hates a fuckup."
Akira Kazama sets the basket of assorted liquor business down and snatches away the papers. She tilts her helmeted head downward, scanning them quickly. Unfortunately, she can't read English very well, and it mostly just looks like gibberish to her. She thinks about this for a long second. What would Daigo do, if America tried to thrust weird paperwork at her?
SOME TIME AGO
Akira Kazama, age 7, watches as Daigo Kazama, age 21, punches a lookalike of Dwight Eisenhower as a female impersonator right in the breadbasket.
NOW
Deciding that she knows what she must do, Akira holds up the papers, and points at them. She refuses to speak when she's wearing the helmet, for the most part, so this must be done in elaborate, exaggerated pantomime. Then she crumples up the papers and flicks them at Guile's hair -- and stands there, in kind of a brash teenage 'what what' pose.
COMBATSYS: Akira has started a fight here.
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Akira 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Guile has joined the fight here.
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Akira 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Guile
"Here's the deal, Kid," Guile begins, putting his nose two inches away from Akira's motorcycle helmet. "I'm not dumb, I knew I'd find you here. But I'm going to speak your laungauge-- in more ways than one."
Stooping over so his dogtags hand down, staring exactly at eye-level, Guile begins: <<You fight me. If I win, you're off to boot camp. You leave your gangbanging friends behind and make friends with the stars and stripes. If I lose, I'll buy your shopping cart full of fortified wine and South Boston Mick Liquor. How's that?>>*
Guile stands erect, a smug smile on his face. <<Unless you're afraid.>>
*-- Translated from Japanese
Akira Kazama maintains her tough pose, largely because she's not quite sure what else to do. This is the first time a white man with strange hair has come up and made her an offer that ended in 'Unless you're afraid,' unless one counts fourth-grade gym class. She still refuses to speak, but she can only imagine one way this conversation would end anyway.
So Akira just skips to that. Stepping backward into a defensive pose -- the graceful bearings and fluid motion a sure sign of tai chi training -- she says a silent prayer to her brother and his lesser contemporary, God, that what she's doing won't prove a mistake.
And then, spinning forward in a rush that causes packages of pornographically-wrapped pocky to fly off the shelves, she tries to kick Guile in the mouth.
COMBATSYS: Guile blocks Akira's Light Kick.
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Akira 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Guile
Raising a meaty forearm to his face, Guile swats Akira's kick away, which still makes a 'thwack' audible over Side 2 of 'Sports,' still playing in the idling Sedan outside. The Air Force pilot's arm is at his side as soon as the kick has been thwarted, and he takes quick step forward. As he's stepping, Guile throws a quick-and-dirty punch at Akira's ribs, before raising his hands into his unique 'Charlie Nash but not as queer Special Forces fighting style' position.
Mr. Kim dims the liquor store's lights and switches on the 'closed' sign. Blacklights (used to check ID's when the law is around) show horrific glowing splotches all over the store (more in the 'Irish Whiskey' section than the 'Softcore Pornography' section, strangely) make the white stars and stripes on Guile's two perfectly patriotic tattoos shine like Gene Simmons' teeth.
COMBATSYS: Guile successfully hits Akira with Quick Punch.
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Akira 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Guile
The punch meets Akira's ribs with the sound of fist on leather -- luckily, nothing is broken, thanks to all of her motorcycle gear padding her up pretty nice. That said, she's still recovering from having her everything broken by Sagat, so the blow still sends her recoiling, flying backward and landing right in a huge nest of ultraviolet splotches.
Shaking her covered head and realizing what she's probably laying in, Akira jumps to her feet, letting out a startled, muffled cry of disgust. Her head snaps, turning to face Guile, and she points at him menacingly: a clear message of 'you done it now,' clear because this gesture was actually invented by Col. William Guile during Desert Storm.
Akira charges at Guile again, using her tai chi agility to go in low, putting her torso almost parallel to the ground as she runs -- before surging up at the last possible second to try and uppercut Guile right under his amazing American chin.
COMBATSYS: Akira successfully hits Guile with Gate Elbow.
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Akira 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Guile
SOME TIME AGO
Having successfully planted the truth serum in Guile's root beer, Zangeif asks a simple question.
"Da, tell me, comrade Guile, vhat iz your vone veakness?! I must know!"
"Well, Zangeif, I have to say... I don't spend as much time as you do around bears, wrestlers or homosexuals... so I guess I never expect an elbow to the chin."
"Ah! Zat is it!" Zangeif all of a sudden looks down at his red laced boots, shame playing across his bearded features. "My elbow... is too fat to use properly in combat. Truly, comrade Guile, I have found ze Superman... and he is American."
"You smell very musky," Guile replies.
NOW
Akira's elbow to the chin is devastating, hitting Guile right in its intended target. Spitting up blood like a gaudy Las Vegas fountain, Guile crashes into the counter, ringing the service bell and knocking the cash register to the ground. On his feet in less than a second, Guile does a backflip onto the counter and performs /another/ consecutive backflip, this time with his foot extended. A bright energy burst is discharged, shattering every bottle in the '"Canadian" Whiskey' section... a FLASH KICK is directed at Akira.
COMBATSYS: Akira endures Guile's Flash Kick.
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Akira 0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Guile
SOME TIME AGO
Emperor Hirohito holds Harry S Truman down and farts on his head. Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin clink foofy girly martini glasses and share a laugh. Truman decides at that moment to drop an atomic bomb on Japan one day, no matter the cost.
NOW
That flashback is what Akira was thinking of when she decides that she can handle anything this American dog can dish out. As it turns out, she really can't, and the Flash Kick hits her so hard that she's launched right into the Frozen Pornography Section, crashing through the glass door of the freezer cabinet and knocking racks of erotic popsicles to the ground, ice cream cone fleshlights sticking to her suit. She brushes them off as best she can, and then, blood leaking from under her jacket, decides it's time to really go to town.
She dashes forward again, leapfrogging a nearby dwarf who's too stoned to know what to do other than wet himself, and lunges for Guile's leg. Should she connect with the desperate grab, she'll do what she always does when she has someone by the leg: huck them, by the leg, up toward the ceiling.
COMBATSYS: Guile endures Akira's Houbu.
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Akira 0/-------/=======|=======\=------\1 Guile
One of his legs is grabbed at the combat boot, and Guile is flung at the ceiling. Shouting with surprise as he hits the slowly-spinning celing fan and shatters it, Guile lands neatly in the stack of 'refurbished' Leg Show magazines beside Mr. Kim's personal stack of Sudoku books that 'were not stolen from children and housewives.' The crunch is sickening, even more sickening than the dear air at the end of side 2 of 'Sports,' that agonizing 1.6 minutes before the tape flips over and the bliss that is side 1 starts all over again. Back on his feet and bloodied, Guile spits out a mouthful of bad checks.
"I'm going to give it to you straight, kid: Uncle Sam's going to be thrilled to have you on his side." Flexing his arms and cracking his knuckles, Guile jumps back over the counter and throws a /hard/ punch at Akira's helmeted face. She can see the blood, scars and imperfections that already decorate his knuckles like star spangled streamers on a white picket fence. Guile, all the while, is smiling like Tom Cruise in the driver seat of a stock car (or manipulating a mentally handicapped relative).
COMBATSYS: Guile successfully hits Akira with Strong Punch.
- Power hit! -
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Akira 1/-----==/=======|=======\==-----\1 Guile
The punch hits the side of Akira's head so hard that the imprint of American knuckles is left in the side of her helmet and she temporarily goes deaf in one ear, spiderweb cracks appearing around the point of impact. Staggering backward, the teenage girl clutches her head in pain, but refuses to remove the helmet -- doing so would ruin the magic, as it were, and so when she finds it necessary to vomit in pain, she does so without removing her mask. Remains of chicken-flavored ramen and a Toblerone drip menacingly from behind her facemask, and she wipes the chin of her mask with some determination.
Akira knows that fighting the government is a no-win proposition -- Japan's history of doing this with America is pretty terrible, even someone with a C- in history (and this is with Yurika's tutoring) will admit. She frowns, and summons up her willpower. She must be the first Japanese person to defeat an American in one-on-one combat -- something that has never happened before. She simply /must/.
Drawing her chi together into a purple flare of bio-luminescent soul power, she thrashes it forward, a lancing, sharp beam of pure SKULL lashing out at Guile, tearing anything in its path in twain down to the atomic level.
COMBATSYS: Guile slows Skull Slice from Akira with Sonic Boom EX.
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Akira 0/-------/-------|=======\===----\1 Guile
Narrowing his eyes at the feminine onslaught of energy comic his eyes, Guile remembers.
PHYSICS CLASS, 11TH GRADE
Professor Chinstable takes another drink from his beaker full of Cutty Sark, and then writes an equation on the chalkboard. The equation looks something like a nagging wife. The subsequent equation is a mushroom cloud, colored in the the broad side of the chalk to cover up the picture of the nagging woman.
"Remember, William Guile, that all women are demons! If they shoot a nuke at you then you shoot 'em with a neutron bomb and then you take everything you want from 'em and then you nuke the remains! And that's just /physics/!"
Guile dutifully takes notes.
NOW
"SONIC BOOM!" The American Ace shouts, crossing his arms in a swift motion that somehow produces a flat crescent of yellow energy... it cuts into the wave of purple terror, and they meet in a bitter kiss. The room shakes violently, Easter-colored strobes of seisure lights making the entire store look like a cheap Halloween spookhouse, until finally a dagger of purple breaks through. Guile turns to the side and flexes his left arm, the shockwave of atomic pain crashing right into the American Flag on his deltoid. He again crashes into the counter, bringing down the entire rack of on-sale-because-it's-somehow-expired Jaegermeister.
The energy fades as steam and smoke rise from the walls.
"Hahaha, kid-- I haven't seen that many fireworks since my last "recon flyby" of Thailand."
He stands, dusts himself off and takes off his tanktop. His dogtags are still shining and immaculate. His shirt remains clutched in his right hand.
Akira, meanwhile, is slouched over. She grips her kneepads, heaving loud, hoarse breaths as the damage done to her ribcage and brain begins to manifest itself in something not unlike exhaustion. Upon seeing Guile get up and remove his shirt, for a moment she considers playing dead, remembering what Daigo taught her to do if she was ever menaced by a bear.
Unfortunately, this is Guile, not Zangief, and Daigo never taught Akira what to do if she was menaced by the personification of American pluck and grit. She considers claiming to be from North Vietnam, but she knows that'd never work -- her lips aren't full enough to pass. So she has to keep fighting. Rapping her helmet a couple times, like her hero Ken Shamrock might, she does what any sane, rational person would do in this situation.
Akira picks up a 12-pack of M.Bison M.Beer over her head, and hucks it at Guile's face as hard as she can.
COMBATSYS: Guile endures Akira's Random Weapon.
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Akira 0/-------/------=|=======\=====--\1 Guile
Guile steps forward into the attack. Foamy, cheep beer splashes against his chest as aluminum shards imbed themselves in him and everything surrounding him. Blood streaks down, pooling for a moment at his stomach, before gravity pulls it down to leave stains on his pants and belt.
"Masters Lite comes in a much sturdier can," Guile asserts, cracking his kunckles again, "and it's not made in /Mexico/."
As Guile speaks those words, a marching Mariachi band passes
Mr. Kim's store, delightful trumpets and maracas peppering the air with the very essence of hope and cheap store-brand salsa. Taking a step back, Guile pushes off of the counter, taking to the air. As he flies forward, he spins in a corkscrew, arms outstretched like jet wings. This trailer park tornado of fists is, of course, aimed right for Akira: but not for any certain part of her. Like a surgical airstrike, it's anything but precise and steady-- it's devastating, and collateral damage is just a side effect.
COMBATSYS: Guile successfully hits Akira with Spinning Backfist.
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Akira 0/-------/---====|=======\=======\1 Guile
Akira is struck in the best by the spinning blow, and its motion is transferred to her: she lifts off of her feet into the air, spinning. She twirls through the air like someone who just got kicked by Jean Claude Van Damme, landing in a heap -- right on the shelf full of cheap gypsy turpenwine, which is made by pouring Welch's grape juice into turpentine and then pretending that whoever drinks it won't go blind. The stuff splashes Akira's gear as every single bottle of it shatters, staining dull blues and greens into fine leather.
Akira knows that she only has so much left to give -- she can feel her heart beating in her throat, and knows that she may need corrective surgery to restore it to her chest. Whoever this military man is, he's not joking, and neither was his barger. She struggles back to her feet, ready for one last stand. Her hands come up. Purple energy brews, and skulls appear in the midst of her manifested chi.
She's...
She's...
SHOOTIN SKULLS %B
COMBATSYS: Guile blocks Akira's Destructive Barrage.
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Akira 0/-------/---====|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Guile
Skulls engulfed in purple energy...
SOME TIME AGO, THAILAND
"Ken, where have you taken us?" Ryu complains, looking at the seedy dance club. Several go-go dancers are encased in tubes of purple water, holding their breath and going crazy to a remix of Captain Beefheart's 'Old Fart at a Play' while human skulls float around them like pihranas in the filthy liquid.
"It's not so bad," A still green-in-the-gills Guile retorts, ordering a Coors Light.
"You've /been/ here?" Ryu asks, aghast.
"Oh, no... this place is much too tame for Charlie."
NOW
Two forearms form a sXe 'x' in front of Guile's face, absorbing the brunt of the skulls. Skin peels away and blisters form, but the arms are cast down to his sides as he calmly takes three steps forward. "Get ready to sign on the dotted line, kid. I went easy on you."
Almost impossibly, Guile jumps into the air and then somehow jumps again, tucking his legs into his chest just as his still-perfect hair touches the ceiling. He begins to sommersault furiously on the way down, sending wave after wave of Sonic Booms down at Akira, and as soon as he lands-- a barrage of fists and feet. Dogtags orbit his neck twice as he stands from the attack, and land perfectly between his pecs.
COMBATSYS: Guile successfully hits Akira with Somersault Explosion.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Akira 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Guile
Akira is too damaged to dodge the attack -- and pays for it dearly. After the nineteenth Sonic Boom explodes in her eardrums and lungs, she loses count -- and then Guile brings it home with a good old fashioned American beatdown, so explosive in its force that Akira is launched through the sheet-metal wall of the shanty-town building, and through three more structures besides. She skids along the ground, shearing up sparks in the fire-lit night of Mexifestival, and slams into the support struts of a stage where a Korean Dave Matthews cover band, Los Dave Matthews Bandar, is performing a Spanish-language version of Matthews' hit song "Crash." (Here, "Crashar.") Akira does crash into them, breaking the stage's ability to remain upright.
The entire enterprise topples, causing dozens to remember this as maybe the worst Mexifestival ever, and at least three as the best. The thing is, it topples /on top of/ Akira. Stage, band, amps, hoochie hippie groupies -- they all land on her with the force of a thousand atoms, such that when the dust settles, there is only the drone of broken amplifiers -- and Akira's arm, hanging limply out of a pile of rubble and dead Korean Dave Matthews impersonators.
COMBATSYS: Akira takes no action.
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Guile 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Akira can no longer fight.
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Guile 0/-------/----===|
Taking his usaPhone from a cargo pants pocket, Guile puts on his tank top (clutched in his right hand the entire time) and dials a number. "Looks like the Two-Eight-Six Cavalry's got a new recruit-- if she can pull it together enough to get through basic. Yeah, call the meatwagon, but go easy on these folks-- it's been a long, hard Mexifestival for them."
Guile turns back to the cracked, dented and singed service counter. Mr. Kim trembles from behind it. "One Coca Cola Classic please." Guile removes his wallet and pulls out a fifty dollar bill, "That should probably fix this place up just fine. But if I /ever/ catch you selling that Mexican M.Bison M.Beer trash here again, /even/ during the Mexifestival, Mr. Kim..."
"But Mistol Guire! That only fifty dorror! M.Bison M.Beel numba one serrar!"
"Ice cream fleshlights, really? You got what you deserve, Mr. Kim. If you'll excuse me."
Despite the various holes in the wall, Guile leaves through the door, and climbs into his black sedan. He turns up the tape deck.
'They say the heart of rock 'n roll is still beatin/and from what I can see I believe 'em'
An American ambulance winds its way to the collapsed stage, two G-Men stepping out from the back. In each of their hands, photocopies of Akira's forged American citizenship papers. "Thank god for Kinkos," one says.
COMBATSYS: Guile has ended the fight here.
Log created on 21:51:58 06/21/2009 by Akira, and last modified on 00:58:05 06/22/2009.