03-29-2010, 10:47 AM
He never came home, never showed up. Sometimes he’d be very late, but he always, always came back for her. The young girl began to pace, her smooth, brown-black hair still uncombed, her onyx eyes red-rimmed from tears. Daddy, where are you? She thought, looking out her bedroom window. She was very young, only twelve, and barely spoke English; her first language was Mandarin Chinese. Her father, a top agent for Interpol, had gone on yet another mission. He always left his daughter with the nanny, and Chun-Li had faith that her dad would return for her.
In her mind, her father was a hero, an unstoppable force of good that always triumphed. So when he didn’t come home, when he was not a few days but almost two weeks late, she was devastated. So she lay in her room, refusing to come out, staring out her bedroom window all the while. But, wait, what was that? A black SUV with darkly tinted windows pulling into the driveway? Daddy! Chun-Li dashed down the stairs and threw open the front door before the man within the car could even open his car door.
But it wasn’t her father. It was a stranger, and she just knew. The girl fell to her knees and began to sob uncontrollably; he was gone. He wasn’t ever coming home again. She’d never again hear him tell her to go to bed early; she’d never again get to learn the martial arts from him. With the death of her father came the death of everything she knew, and everything she was.
There was only one purpose to her life: vengeance. Chun-Li, a top Interpol agent, was going to participate in the upcoming tournament to get to Bison, leader of the Shadowlaw. But she didn’t take this job to help keep the peace, or even for the pay. Rather, she’d taken this assignment to fulfill her own personal vendetta.
Chun-Li wasn’t stupid; she well knew that she couldn’t let her feelings cloud her judgment, and had long honed her control over her emotions through meditation. She strode down a busy street, ignoring the stared from people who’d never seen an outfit quite like hers; a short, cyan-and-golf qipao, brown tights, white combat boots, and ox horns.
Chun-Li jumped when her phone rang, and then answered it. “Chun-Li here… mhmm… yes…. Wait, what? Are you sure? Of course, you have my word. Chun-Li out.” She clicked the phone shut, then cursed in Chinese; she’d just been informed that an agent from Delta Red was also working on this same case, and she wasn’t pleased; the last thing she needed was someone to get in her way and drag her down during her mission.
What had gone wrong?, the man asked himself as he retreated. The fluorescent lighting made his hair look mousy and lifeless, thought it was actually a vibrant orange. His brown leather boots made light tapping sounds as he ran, and he felt like a coward. How can you leave him behind like that, Guile? Huh? He thought as he fled down the corridors. They’d been so close to completing their mission, but Bison had intervened. So now Lieutenant Guile fled while his partner, Lieutenant Charlie, stayed behind to distract him.
What was that? Light, freedom. Guile sped up, and was soon out of the base. But he didn’t stop, he kept going, and turned around only when he was fifty to sixty feet away from the base. He doubled over and gasped for air, but his lungs couldn’t seem to get enough and continued to burn.
Suddenly, in a flash of light, heat, and sound, Guile looked up to see the building from which he’d just escaped in flames, and collapsing in on itself. “Charlie! CHAAAAARLIIIIEEE!!!” He screamed. His friend had never come out those doors.
Somewhere downtown, Major Guile sat on a city bench outside a park, lighting himself a smoke; smoking was a bad habit, he knew, but right now he needed it. He’d just entered the fighting contest, the one hosted by Bison, to get close to him; Bison would pay for killing Charlie.
But, for now, all Guile could do was wait, much to his frustration. He was a man of action, and he hated waiting like this. Unfortunately, he could do nothing else much until the tournament arrived, and so he sat around, feeling useless, and having far too much time to think, to remember. He always went back to that day, always went over how they went about it wrong, and came out with many, many ‘if’s. But thinking about going back and all those if’s didn’t bring Charlie back, and never would.
Bison was going to pay for the loss of Guile’s best friend.
Last edited by spirit_queen : 03-29-2010 at 08:52 PM.